Page 44 of Full Throttle

I heard her mumble something, and then movement. A second later, I saw her shadow from underneath the door as I opened my eyes again. “Yes?” she called through the door.

“Dinner is on the stove,” I told her, keeping my voice level now.

“Oh—um—thank you.”

I ignored her forced gratitude, getting to the point of why I came into the hall. “I’m heading down to the bar. Sullie wants me to check the gas levels.”

A second later, the door was yanked open, and my head snapped up. Our eyes collided as her phone fell away from her face, which was wet from her tears. My brows furrowed as my heart thundered inside my chest, an unfamiliar fury sparking inside of me. This was the second time I’d caught her crying.

“Why are you crying?” I demanded.

Quickly, she shook her head, scoffing at my question like it was ridiculous. “It’s nothing.” She pushed out a fake laugh again. It was like nails on a damn chalkboard. Hideous. “Just hormonal stuff. Nothing important.”

My eyes narrowed as I stepped over the threshold, forcing her chin to tilt up a bit. “Nothing important,” I repeated, slower than she had, needing to taste the lie on my own tongue.

Dominique looked away from me then, clearing her throat. “So why are you going down to the bar?”

I cocked my head to the side, leaning down to get into her space. Her green eyes widened, only providing me with more evidence of her emotional state. “Why were you crying?” I asked again, trying to find the patience to not pin her to the wall.

“I told you. Nothing—”

“You told me a lie, Dominique.”

Something flashed within her sage eyes. “I didn’t lie.”

My eyes scanned her face, lingering on her pink lips for longer than I should have. “That mouth was good at many things, but lying wasn’t one of them.”

“Stop talking to me like that,” she whispered.

“No.”

Blinking, she sucked in a breath as I met her eyes again, bringing my other foot inside the room. She moved, stepping back—on the wrong foot. She winced in pain. With a low growl, my arm shot out, banding around her waist. Her body slammed into mine as her hands landed on my chest.

“Cain,” she whispered.

Fuck, if that didn’t make me want to drop to my knees.

“You can’t put weight on that foot yet,” I reminded her, keeping my voice neutral.

Her breasts brushed against me with every short breath she took. Her mouth opened and closed a few times as she continued to gawk at me. “P-please let me go,” she finally managed.

Slowly, I brought my hand up to her face, cupping it as my thumb swiped the remains of a tear from under her eye. The touch seared through me like a hot poker, going straight for the piece of shit inside my chest. This was a bad idea.

When has that ever stopped you?

My voice softened, lowing a bit as I repeated myself one more time. “Why were you crying, clover?”

She flinched.

I mentally kicked myself.

The promise I made myself had been broken twice since she arrived: once when I was pulling her from the burning car, and now, when I was wiped her tears away—while she was in my arms, against my body. I could feel her heart pounding against me as her breath caught.

“Don’t,” she snapped, her eyes hardening.

She jerked her head from my hand, twisting her neck to look out the window.

“Answer me,” I commanded, murmuring still.

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