Chapter 32 On the Edge
On the Edge
Dominic was halfway to the stairs when he saw her.
Rain pooled in his leather shoes, soaking through his socks.
The last of the dinner party guests were ducking into the safety of the cathedral, shrieking with laughter as the rain doubled in force.
Dominic had been about to do the same when something caught his eye: a dark-haired woman hurrying down the slick limestone steps, her wet skirt fisted in one hand.
Juliette.
What the hell was she doing?
Perhaps she’d forgotten something. Her phone, or a scarf, or an embroidered tea towel that she’d bought in the gift shop. At the end of the day, it was none of his business. And yet…
He glanced up at the sky. Rain sliced down like knives, pooling in the neck of his dinner jacket, and he swore under his breath. Honestly. Did this woman have no sense of self-preservation? He skidded across the limestone steps, scanning the balcony.
Ah.
There.
A dark-haired figure leaned against the railing; her pale face was tipped up toward the sky. Dominic stumbled toward her, cursing violently under his breath. Bloody stairs. Stupid, bloody limestone.
“Marchmont,” he called. “What the hell are you doing?”
She didn’t turn. “Go away, Hastings.”
Juliette stared out at the city lights. Rainwater ran in rivulets down her face, clinging to her dark eyelashes.
She was shivering. He pulled off his dinner jacket, and although she didn’t reject it, her knuckles were white on the fabric.
She didn’t seem surprised that he’d followed her, which was either encouraging or embarrassing. He couldn’t decide which.
Dominic hesitated. “Is…Did something happen?”
Juliette turned. “Why don’t I hate you?”
He blinked. “Pardon?”
Had she already slipped and hit her head? But Juliette just kept looking at him with that same haunted expression, rain streaking her face like tears.
“I should hate you, for what you said in Paris. Or have you forgotten?”
Dominic closed his eyes. He wanted to laugh, although the question wasn’t funny. How could he possibly forget? How could he ever forget the look on Juliette’s face that day, the way her expression had crumpled like a ball of paper in his fist?
No.
He hadn’t forgotten.
Dominic swallowed. The city lights turned Juliette’s dress semitransparent. Her hair clips were coming undone, the butterfly wings wilting in the rain.
“I don’t know,” Dominic said.
Juliette’s laugh was hollow. “Really? That’s your response?”
“It’s the truth. You should hate me.”
She rubbed at her face. “Just go. Please.”
Thunder clapped overhead, shaking the building with vicious hands. Juliette’s teeth were chattering, and she burrowed deeper into his dinner jacket; the black material swallowed her slight frame. Dominic shifted his weight.
“I’m not leaving you alone in the middle of a storm. It’s dangerous.”
She wasn’t looking at him. “I’ll be fine.”
“Those steps are a bloody nightmare. One wrong move and you’ll break your neck.”
Juliette made a sound that wasn’t quite a laugh. Lightning cleaved the sky in two; rain bled from the wound, pooling at his feet in icy drops. His toes were going numb. Just another reason that he should practice common sense and leave.
“What do you want from me, Hastings?”
Dominic licked cold water from his lips. “I don’t know. I…” I want to kiss you. I want to tell you everything that happened two years ago, but I can’t. “We’re teammates. I want to help you.”
Juliette’s smile was wry. “That’s right. Teammates.” She dropped her hand. “What if I told you that I wanted to sleep with someone?”
A strange ringing began in his ears. “I—What?”
“Sinclair,” Juliette said, with the ease of listing off groceries. “Or Liêm. Or anyone who isn’t you. Wouldn’t that make things easier?” She took a step forward. “Would that make you happy?”
Dominic stiffened. He knew that she was goading him, but he couldn’t stop his heart from racing, couldn’t stop his hands from clenching into fists. Something primitive curled in his chest. Mine, it growled, because it was an idiot. He had no right to her.
“No,” Dominic said, his teeth clenched.
Juliette crossed her arms. “No?”
“No,” Dominic said tightly. “It wouldn’t make me happy. Even the thought of that…” Sinclair’s hands under her shirt. His mouth on her throat. Blood roared in his ears. “I fucking hate that idea. Is that what you want to hear?”
Her gaze was a challenge. “Tell me what you want.”
Dominic drew a breath. “I’m just…” I’m just jealous. I’m just furious. I’m just desperately in love with you, and it seems impossible to me that anyone who knows you wouldn’t be in love with you too.
“Just what?”
“I can’t stop myself,” Dominic said raggedly, “from wanting you. And I’ve tried.” His laugh was humorless. “Trust me, I’ve tried.”
She tipped her head back. “And everything else?”
Thunder roared overhead. The dinner jacket had slipped from Juliette’s shoulder, exposing soaked skin. He could count every water droplet clinging to her eyelashes. The city lights turned the ends of her hair to copper. And heaven help him, he couldn’t hold back any longer.
“Fuck everything else,” Dominic growled. “I only want you.”
He burrowed his hand in her damp hair. She was looking up at him with blazing blue eyes, her mouth set in that deliciously stubborn way. His eyes flicked to her mouth in a silent question—a silent plea, if he was honest with himself—and she gave a breathless nod. Yes, her eyes said. Yes, yes, yes.
He kissed her hungrily. Thoroughly. She tasted of rainwater and wine, mint and strawberry lip balm. So damned addictive. Juliette made a little noise, something needy and distinctly her, and arousal spiked through him.
Juliette fisted her hands into his hair. He was pushing her into the railing, Dom realized dizzily, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. All he could focus on was how good she felt. How good she tasted. He felt half-drugged, too hopped up on adrenaline to feel the rain lashing at his neck.
And he wanted more. Fuck, did he ever. He’d never been this hard in his life.
Juliette reached for his trousers, and Dominic staggered back, his breath coming in harsh pants. “Wait. I can’t—” His head spun. “My self-control only goes so far.”
“Good,” Juliette said firmly.
She unhooked a button on his trousers. Dominic gritted his teeth.
“Marchmont.”
Her hands felt so good, so unbelievably perfect. It was taking every ounce of self-control not to push her against the nearest pillar and fuck her senseless. Dominic gripped the railing until his palms stung.
“This is a terrible idea,” he managed to say.
“I don’t care,” Juliette said. “I want you.”
Dominic cast his eyes skyward. “Not here. You deserve better than this.” How many times had he imagined this moment?
Hundreds, probably. But it had always taken place in a dimly lit bedroom with firelight warming a red wine glass.
Not on the roof of an Italian cathedral in what was looking increasingly like a gale-force storm.
“Hastings,” Juliette said. “Look at me.” There was only steely resolve in her gaze. Resolve, and a hot desire that nearly had him on his knees. “I don’t want to wait any longer.”
His self-control was on a knife’s edge. “Juliette…”
“Dominic,” Juliette whispered. “Please.”
Her hand closed around his cock, and he inhaled sharply. He maneuvered her backward, pushing her until she was flush with the stone, and Juliette’s eyes darkened.
“Touch me,” she breathed.
Dominic’s hand slipped under her dress, and he almost groaned at the liquid heat he found there.
Fuck. She really was trying to kill him, wasn’t she?
His hand moved of its own accord, and Juliette moaned, her back arching.
Every whimper was like kindling to a fire.
Dominic kissed her roughly, fiercely, his hand moving faster—
“Wait,” Juliette said breathlessly.
She caught his hand, but Dominic had stopped. He was so hard that it was almost painful. But if she asked him to stop…if she’d changed her mind…
He’d do it.
It would kill him, but he’d do it.
Perhaps it was contraception, Dominic thought, struggling to think through the haze of pure want.
Although Juliette had been on an IUD a few years ago, hadn’t she?
So maybe it was protection she was worried about?
He was tested regularly, and he knew that she was too.
It wasn’t hard to add it to their regular blood panels.
But if she felt more comfortable with a condom, that was fine by him.
Which was why he was totally unprepared when Juliette looked up at him and said, “I want you inside of me. Right now.”
Her hand palmed his cock, and Dominic’s eyes fluttered shut. One movement, he thought, and he would implode at embarrassing speed.
“Marchmont?” His voice was ragged.
“Yes?”
He unbuckled his trousers. “You’re going to ruin me.”
Dominic plunged into her with a savage thrust. Juliette cried out, her fingers digging into his shoulders.
Her pink cowboy boots gripped his waist, hard and demanding, and yes, this was what he’d been imagining for months.
Every single night before he fell asleep.
She was lush and warm, a perfect fucking fit, her fingers tightening with every thrust.
Dominic’s thrusts grew wilder. Savage. He was a car ripped apart, all the messy wiring and spark plugs exposed. Will you still like me when you see this? Will you still want to show me off to your friends? To your family? Will you still want me when you realize what a mess I am?
Juliette’s breathing grew harder. Her cheeks were flushed, strands of dark hair plastered to her face.
Dominic shuddered. She was undoing something critical inside of him, a knot that he’d wound tight around his heart.
She was picking it apart with expert fingers. He’d never be able to go back. Never.
Her legs shook. “Dominic…I…”
“It’s okay,” Dominic murmured. “I’ve got you.”
She shook her head. “Come with me.” Her hand fisted in his shirt. “Come with me. Please.”
Her name was a groan. “Juliette…”
She cried out. White-hot heat ripped through him, and then he had no choice but to follow, hurtling toward release.
Stars burst in front of his eyes. For a terrifying moment, Dominic was spinning, a car careening toward the barriers; then it was over, leaving him ragged and panting, a thin film of sweat coating his forehead.
He pressed a kiss to Juliette’s forehead.
She was flushed and perfect, her skin burning beneath her sodden dress.
She was the girl at the racing academy, her hand bleeding in the shower; the vision in his kitchen; the fearless woman hurtling down a racetrack, hands gripping the wheel.
His teammate, his rival, the only person who could truly get under his skin.
Shit, Dominic thought. I’m so utterly screwed.
“Marchmont,” Dominic began. “I—”
“Don’t.” She closed her eyes. “Please don’t.”
“You don’t know what I’m going to say.”
“Yes, I do.” Juliette’s smile was sad. “You’re going to say something wonderful and charming, and I’m going to fall in love with you all over again.”
Dominic stared. His pulse raced in time with the storm, a thundering, spluttering thing. She’d loved him. The realization pulled at the stitches around his heart. All this time, she’d loved him too. Cautious hope bloomed in his chest, tender as a spring flower.
“Would that be so bad?” Dominic asked carefully.
Juliette looked down. Rain clung to her eyelashes like frozen tears.
“I can’t forgive you. Not even now.”
Dominic looked away. Of course he knew that; it was exactly why he’d chosen those words two years ago. He disentangled himself, and the rush of cold air felt like a slap to the face. He zipped up his trousers.
“I’ll walk you out,” he said shortly.
Juliette nodded. She didn’t look surprised. Perhaps she’d resigned herself to this, Dominic realized; perhaps she’d known that it would just be this one time, that nothing would ever change. At least not for her.
Everything had changed for him.
“Let’s go,” Juliette said.
She kicked off her pink boots, descending the wet stairs in bare feet. Dominic watched her with a lump in his throat. If only he could explain what had happened two years ago. If only she hadn’t said those things to him.
If only.