Page 154 of Full Throttle

“A lot.” Her voice was breathless. “Although I can’t speak the language. A man gave me a potato instead of an apple tart yesterday.”

Dominic’s mouth fell to her neck. “I’ll teach you.”

Juliette inhaled as his mouth dropped lower. “You’re very distracting as a teacher.”

“I’d offer rewards for good behavior.”

Her breath hitched. “That could work.”

“Let’s start our lessons now,” Dominic murmured, his hands spanning her waist. “Emménages avec moi.”

Juliette’s eyebrows drew together. “You also want a…potato?”

“Move in with me.”

“Oh.” Juliette’s frown deepened. “Well, that was a long shot. We’d be better off starting with animals or fruits.”

Amusement curled in his chest. “Marchmont. I’m being serious.”

Juliette spun so fast that only years of reflex training saved Dominic from stumbling. Her blue eyes were wreathed in shadow, a dusky indigo that made him think of early morning October walks, where frosted leaves crunched underfoot.

“You want to move in together?” Juliette repeated.

Dominic shrugged. “Why not?”

She looked baffled. “In Paris?”

“Or London,” Dominic said. “Or Monaco. Or anywhere you want, really, depending on where our teams are based. But yes, I’d like to move in with you.” His heart pounded, and it took a great effort to keep his voice casual. “This is usually the part where you say something.”

Juliette’s lips parted, but she didn’t speak.

Dominic’s heart sped up. Shit. He’d known it was too soon. But how was he meant to contain himself? How was he meant to wait when he’d wasted more than two years because of his own stupidity? And he loved her. God, he loved her. He would know her soul in the dark; not what she looked like, or her hopes and dreams, but her, the very essence of her, the colors that made up the pieces of her heart. Just as she knew him.

“You should know,” Juliette said finally, “that I have a hideous amount of clothes.”

Cautious hope filled him. “That’s okay.”

“I own stupid things,” she warned. “Like a yogurt maker.”

Dominic’s mouth twitched. “I love yogurt.”

“And I put knives the wrong way up in the dishwasher. You could trip and die at any moment. That’s a real possibility.”

“Is that a yes?”

Juliette smiled. “That’s a yes.”

Dizzying relief filled him, although his voice was solemn. “Thank god, because I’ve already hired an estate agent.”

Juliette was laughing as he claimed her mouth, although the kiss turned hungry. Greedy. She stretched onto her toes, her mouth hot and impatient. He backed her against the clock, pressing her hands against the cool glass. How long had this clock stood here? How many lovers had it seen, strolling hand in hand through scuffed cobblestone streets?

His mouth fell to her neck, and Juliette made a whimpering noise that sent a pulse of blood straight through him.

“Hastings…”

He kissed her neck. “Yes?”

“We can’t.” Her fingers tightened on his jacket. “Not here. There are cameras—”

“I’ll buy the tapes.”

She let out a breathless laugh. “I doubt the museum will sell them to you.”

“Fuck it,” Dominic growled. “I’ll buy the museum.”

Still. She had a point. Reluctantly, he drew back. Juliette was looking up at him, her blue eyes amused; her mouth was pink and swollen from kissing, and a pretty flush crept up her neck. Dominic’s breath hitched in his chest. So goddamn beautiful. He wanted to show her off to the world.

More than that, he wanted to show the world to Juliette. Skating across a frozen river in Paris. The sugar-dusted orange cake he’d eaten as a child in Morocco. His mother’s photographs. The flowers in Borough Market. Everything senselessly beautiful in this world, he wanted to give to her.

There was a bang.

Dominic looked up. Red sparks shattered in the night air; there was a cheer, then a second firework exploded, dissolving into the Seine. Juliette’s dazed face was bathed in white and then pink and then green.

“Fireworks,” Juliette murmured, and her blazing smile could have melted the snow settling over the city. “They’re setting off fireworks for the new year.”

Dominic drew her backward, resting his chin on her head. He could feel Juliette’s heartbeat in his chest like the hum of a car. Another firework burst, raining fat blueberry drops onto the city of dreamers below. The clock chimed midnight. And somewhere outside, a solitary violin began, heralding in the new year…