Page 41 of Full Throttle

He poured the eggs into the hot skillet, a sizzling sound echoing throughout the loft. After he set the bowl down, he twisted his neck, his eyes landing on me instantly. Slowly, as I seemed to stop breathing, his eyes dropped down and down until they reached my legs.

“You heard me,” he said, his voice softer than before as he looked at my face again.

My stomach fluttered as more memories banged on the door I’d shoved them behind in my mind. All I could manage to say was the first thing that came to mind. “Please don’t burn my eggs,” I blurted.

Chapter Nine

Cain

I was drowning.

The numbers, drawings, and calculations on the page beckoned me to dive in, but I was being swallowed up by something else entirely.

Staring down at the design for my next engine, my hands in my hair, I heard the sound of Dominique shifting on the couch. My jaw tightened as I struggled to focus.

I was in my own version of hell.

It was my second day trapped in this loft with her, and I was beginning to think Sullie wanted this to happen. It was getting harder and harder to think straight around her. I assumed it would be easy, like settling back into an old routine, one we’d established a long time ago.

I looked up from my place at the small breakfast table, my papers and notes spread out everywhere, to see her hunched over slightly on the couch, her good leg propped up against the coffee table, her other ankle resting on a pillow I’d shoved underneath it beside her bent leg. A notebook was resting against her legging-clad thigh, and I could hear her pen scribbling. Her hair fell over her shoulder in a thick curtain of the richest chocolate, and my hand curled into a fist the longer I stared.

We’d barely spoken a word to each other after yesterday’s breakfast, but a part of me expected it to be this way.

Who we were before was from a different life.

She and I were completely different people now, and according to Jer, she was staying at Oasis. I wanted to be here and so did she. That meant I had to learn to live with it, along with everything else in my life. The pain between us would eventually fade and scar. People functioned with scars all the time, and I could function with her.

But not right now.

Not after what I did the night before last.

Shame covered me as a sour taste formed on my tongue. Memories of her breathy cries and her moaning my name filled my head, ringing in my ears like a fucking broken record, over and over. I was certain I’d lose my shit soon enough. Looking back down at my design, I dropped my hands from my hair and picked up the pen again.

From in the living area, I heard her shift again, clearing her throat as she turned the page of her notebook. Unable to help it, I looked up once more, my eyes landing on that curtain of hair. The sour taste on my tongue began to fade the longer I stared, wishing I could see her face from this angle. Were her brows pinched in concentration? Was the corner of her bottom lip sucked in between her teeth as her eyes read over her writing? Or was her tongue pressed into her cheek as she reviewed?

The mere thought of her tongue had my cock twitching inside my jeans.

Fucking damn.

I looked back down to my design, trying to focus on the customer’s requests.

No, I couldn’t function with her.

Not while we were trapped in a 600 square foot loft apartment with no power. I always managed to carry around battery packs, so both of our phones were currently charging on the kitchen island, Sullie’s gas stove was on low, heating the place for now, and the faucets were dripping constantly. We were doing okay.

This was doable.

This was doable.

This was—

The silence from her was driving me insane. When we were kids, all she did was talk my damn ears off.

An annoying ache formed in my chest as I realized how much I missed her crazy yammering. Silent Dominique was a unique, agonizing form of torture.

Get over it, Cain. You’re here to make sure she is alright and nothing more.

Tightening my jaw, I did my best to block her out and focus on work. I reached for my ruler and drew out the measurements, making notes as needed. I’d been doing this for years, and it was the only time I could get my brain to be quiet for a few hours. With Dominique near, the quiet seemed to bother me in a way I couldn’t explain.

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