Page 89 of Full Throttle

“A year?”

He smiled. “Then I can do that.”

One evening, Dominic lay on his side, tracing an invisible racetrack over her bare shoulder blades. A summer breeze filtered through the castle window, smelling heavily of Scottish wildflowers. They’d biked through the woods that day, a picnic basket strapped to Dominic’s back, and he smelled of coconut sunscreen and something like sparkling wine. She propped her chin on the pillow, raising her eyes.

“Why did you come to the academy?”

Dominic’s finger paused. “You’ve never asked me that before.”

“I’m asking now.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You’re part of that betting pool, aren’t you? The one that all the older students are in.” She couldn’t deny it, and he tapped his mouth. A sign, she’d learned, that he was trying not to smile. “You’re abusing your privileges, Marchmont. Some would call this insider trading.”

Juliette looked up through her lashes. “Please?”

Dominic groaned. “That’s playing dirty.” He went back to tracing lines on her back, and she shivered. “You really want to know?”

“I do.”

He lifted a shoulder. “I was caught robbing a food truck. Team wants to rehab my image.”

She was surprised into laughing. “Burgers?”

Lord only knew Dominic ate enough of them. Not the fast-food version, but elaborate homemade creations, like Wagyu beef with crispy onions. She regularly took the piss out of him for it.

“Poutine, actually,” he said. “I can never resist those little cheese curd things.”

“Come on.” She rolled onto her back. “Be serious. I have twenty pounds riding on this.”

He sighed. “What are the bets so far?”

She ticked them off on her fingers. “Jasper thinks they’re paying you. Teddy thinks you’re bored. And there’s a bloke in my engineering class who swears you’re about to launch a protein shake brand and that you need the publicity.”

“And you?” Dominic poked her stomach. “What do you think?”

“Oh, I have the most controversial theory of all.”

“And what’s that?”

She smiled. “That you have a good heart.”

Something flickered across Dominic’s face. But it was gone in a second, replaced by the lazy amusement that she’d grown so accustomed to.

“Well,” he said lightly. “I’m sorry to disappoint, but I’m afraid you’re going to have to let those twenty pounds go.”

Juliette closed her eyes. “It’s the protein shake brand, isn’t it?”

“That’s the one.” Dominic smiled, but it was softer somehow. “But I’ll help you recoup your losses. I’ll buy you dinner. In Paris.” A jolt went through her and she made to sit up, but Dominic held up a hand. “Hear me out. We can spend a few days together in the city, and I’ll show you all my favorite places. Then we can fly out to Zandvoort. You can watch my race from the team garage.”

Her shoulders tensed. “You want to go public?”

“Don’t you?”

Dominic’s gaze was searching. The evening light pooled on his shoulder, melting like rich French butter, and something caught in her throat. God, he really was handsome. And thoughtful. And surprisingly kind for someone so grouchy. If she were anyone else, she would have been jumping up and down to tell the world that she was dating him.

But.

But.