The Full Velocity Series Box Set

by Tracie Delaney

  And I was most definitely a girl.

  Spoiled, though? I’d hotly debate that particular adjective, but not today.

  “Sit, Paisley, before you fall down. I’ll make you some dry toast, and providing you don’t bring it back up, I’ll take you home.”

  I mumbled something about carbs which Jared studiously ignored. He guided me back to the couch, and once I’d sank onto the cushioned seat, he crossed over to the kitchen. The bread wrapper rustled, and then he popped two slices into the toaster, thankfully wholemeal bread not white. If it had been white, he’d have to force-feed me, although I wouldn’t put that past him.

  He brought over the toast and another glass of water. Placing them on the coffee table, he sat beside me.

  “Eat.”

  I almost growled, which made my next comment kind of play into his hands. “Sit. Eat. I’m not a dog.”

  He chuckled. I liked the sound. It did funny things to my insides that had nothing to do with my killer hangover.

  “That’s something we can definitely agree on,” he said.

  I picked up a slice of toast and nibbled the crust. It tasted awful without any butter or jam, but I really didn’t think I could stomach grease or sugar right now. I sipped at my water and managed to cram a whole slice down, but I couldn’t face the second one. The food did make me feel marginally better, though.

  “Happy?” I asked, my tone bordering on sarcasm. “No sign of puke, so can I go now?”

  Instead of responding to my childishness, Jared stood and grabbed his keys off the coffee table. He crossed over to a cupboard, opened it, and slipped into a dark, knee-length overcoat. “I’ll take you.”

  “I can get myself home. I wouldn’t want to put you out.” More sarcasm.

  This time, he arched an eyebrow.

  “That’s debatable, otherwise I wouldn’t have had to bring you back here last night. And in terms of putting me out, it’s a bit late for that.”

  I clenched my jaw, but that made my head ache, so instead, I slung my purse over my shoulder and stomped past him, standing by his front door, hands on hips. I spotted a glimmer of a smile on his perfect lips, but all too fast, before I could savor the sheer beauty of the man, it vanished.

  A cold, biting wind hit me the second I stepped outside. I hadn’t told Jared, but I’d begun to feel sick again, and the fresh air helped to keep the nausea at bay. I breathed deeply through my nose then blew it out slowly.

  “If you’re going to hurl, try and give me some warning so I can put some distance between us,” Jared drawled. “I happen to like this coat.”

  Damn the man! Was there anything he didn’t notice? And did he have to keep reminding me I’d ruined an item of his clothing?

  “I’m not.”

  “Good.”

  Jared flagged down a black cab, and I sank gratefully into the seat. I gave the cabbie my address. Jared didn’t speak to me once on the way over to my place. Thank goodness he didn’t, because the motion of the car made my nausea a hundred times worse. I had to concentrate really hard on breathing and pray I reached home without further incident.

  By the time we stopped outside my building, I was so close to throwing up that I didn’t even say goodbye to Jared or offer to pay the fare. I stumbled out onto the pavement and ran inside where I barely made it to the toilets tucked away in the corner of the lobby.

  Jared

  I watched as Paisley launched herself through the entrance to her building. Although playing nurse was definitely not a skill I could profess to having any experience in, I couldn’t, in all conscience, leave her in that condition. Anything could happen, and I didn’t relish the thought of having to break the news to Jack that I’d been the last person to see his daughter alive before she choked to death on her own puke.

  Now that would have a detrimental impact on my career.

  With a resigned sigh, I handed over the fare and followed her inside. I caught a glimpse of her heading into the public restrooms. I sighed again. She couldn’t even make it to her apartment to be ill in private, that was how wasted she’d been. I took a seat beside an oversized glass vase filled with multicolored pebbles and waited.

  It didn’t surprise me that Paisley had a Kensington address. I doubted, however, that she paid for this on her mechanic’s salary, regardless of the generous remuneration packages found in motor racing. Jack had to be subsidizing his little princess. Although, why wouldn’t he? I couldn’t see Jack Nash allowing his only child to live in a studio apartment in a less than salubrious part of London.

  When ten minutes had passed with no sign of Paisley, I rose from the chair and walked across the lobby. She left me no choice. For the second time in less than twenty-four hours, I found myself entering the ladies’ room. Luckily for me, only one stall was occupied.

  “Paisley,” I called out. “You okay?”

  I heard a groan followed by the flushing of a toilet. She appeared, her skin tinged gray, and sweat beading her brow. I knew that feeling, although I rarely allowed myself to get so wasted these days. My career, and my body, were far too important. Even in the off-season, I competed in triathlons to keep up my fitness levels. I might only be twenty-seven, but in motor racing terms, that was positively middle aged. This year, an eighteen-year-old would be racing for one of the teams.

  Suddenly I felt old.

  “Go away, Jared,” she mumbled, crossing to the row of sinks. She swilled her face with cold water.

  Ignoring her, I glanced around. No paper towels, only a hand dryer. I stepped into a stall and unraveled a bunch of toilet paper which I passed to her.

  She dried her face and then, resting her hands on the edge of the countertop, stared at herself in the mirror. She turned to me, horrified.

  “Oh my God. You let me walk around London looking like this?”

  I hazarded a guess she meant the black mascara streaks getting friendly with her cheeks, and the smudged eyeshadow, remnants of her heavy night.

  I narrowed my eyes. “I hardly took you shopping to Harrods,” I said. “And I’m sure the cab driver has seen worse.”

  She shot me a foul look. With the same paper she’d used to dry her face, she rubbed at the offending black marks. “Urgh. I need proper makeup remover.”

  She stomped past me and out into the lobby. I followed her, right over to the bank of elevators.

  She turned to me with a scowl. “I can see myself up.”

  “I know,” I replied, walking into the elevator. “What floor?”

  She opened her mouth as though she intended to argue, then her shoulders sagged. “I have to put in a code. It’s the penthouse.”

  I repressed a snort. Of course she lived in the penthouse. The doors closed. Paisley punched a four-digit number into the pad, and the elevator smoothly set off. Acutely aware of the confined space, I edged backward, as far from Paisley as I could get. It didn’t matter, though. The remnants of her perfume tickled my nostrils, but now that it had faded—she’d worn far too much last night—I could smell Paisley, and I had to say, I preferred the scent of her over some manmade crap any day of the week.

  Her head dipped, chin tucked into her chest, and she fixed her attention on the floor. I raked my gaze over her. Even hungover with makeup smeared all over her face and a creased dress, she did things to me. I wouldn’t break, though. Not even Jack Nash’s daughter would find a way through the rules I’d put in place.

  Especially not Jack Nash’s daughter.

  I liked my balls right where they were, thank you very much—attached to my hard-as-a-bat dick. And I wouldn’t risk my coveted seat at Nash Racing for anyone. Even for a woman who suddenly took up far too much space in my head.

  The elevator pinged, opening out into a large foyer. Paisley weaved. I gripped her elbow to steady her. She didn’t even struggle. Jesus. She must be feeling like crap. Maybe I should have taken her to the hospital to get checked out. She could have alcoholic poisoning for all I knew. But what if I did and the press sna
pped a picture… No, she’d be fine. Some fluids, sleep, and she’d be back to her normal self.

  Annoying. Dauntless. Beautiful.

  Mine.

  The fuck? Get a grip.

  Paisley pressed her forefinger to a keypad outside her door, then stared into what I presumed was a retina scan. The lock clicked, and the door automatically opened. I followed her inside. Her place was exactly what I expected of the penthouse apartment in such a prestigious building; large, open-plan sitting room with high ceilings, picture windows with a magnificent view over one of London’s many parks, a top of the range kitchen with sleek white-gloss cabinets and black granite countertops, and a dining table that seated twelve. It didn’t suit her. It was too clinical, too grown-up. I imagined Paisley’s style to be more boho, with lots of plants, bright colors, textured rugs, and enormous cushions scattered over the three U-shaped sofas.

  “Have a seat,” she said. “Be back in a sec.”

  She disappeared, and seconds later the sound of an electric toothbrush reached me. At least I surmised it was an electric toothbrush. With Paisley’s level of crazy, assuming anything wasn’t the smartest move.

  She returned a couple of minutes later. She’d changed into a pair of sweatpants and a shocking-pink T-shirt. “That’s better. Desperate to brush my teeth.”

  She wandered over to the large fridge and lifted out a jug of juice. She poured herself a glass and chugged the entire thing before I could mention that acidic drinks weren’t a great combination to pair with a belly full of alcohol, and she’d be better off sticking to water.

  She waved the jug at me. “Want one?”

  I nodded. “Sure.”

  I sauntered over to the window and peered down onto the street below. People dashed about, looking like ants from this high up. Paisley joined me, handing over the glass of OJ.

  “Thanks.” I sipped. “Great view.”

  She shrugged. “It’s okay.

  “People would kill for this view.”

  She peered up at me. “You could easily afford a place like this.”

  “True.”

  “Why don’t you?”

  My turn to shrug. I wasn’t about to share my real reasons for living so frugally; that one of my greatest fears was losing it all and being forced back into living on beans and rice and struggling to pay the rent. I might happily take risks on the track, but financially? Not a chance in hell.

  “What do I need all this space for?” I gestured around.

  She worried her lip. “Good point.” She sighed. “I hate living here.”

  I should be surprised at both her honesty and my accurate guess, but I wasn’t in the slightest. My initial instinct that this place wasn’t right for her had been dead-on. “Then move.”

  “Dad likes the security it offers me.”

  “Do you always do as Daddy says?”

  “No.” She grinned and nudged my shoulder. “Are you teasing me?”

  I didn’t answer. I wasn’t sure whether I was or not. But I knew one thing. The warmth flooding my body and thickening my cock had turned into a problem I needed to solve.

  “Thanks for taking care of me last night,” she said. “And this morning.”

  I arched an eyebrow at her unexpected gratitude, and she chuckled.

  “I’m a terrible grouch when I’m hungover, but I really do appreciate it.” She squinted up at me. “I know you think I’m a spoiled little bitch, but if you give me a chance, Jared, you might find I’m not the person you believe I am.” She set down her glass on a nearby table and flopped onto the couch.

  I had no response to that. Time to go. “I’ll leave you to it then, Paisley. See you in Australia.”

  “No wait,” she said, gripping my wrist. “Will you stay until I fall asleep?”

  A tinge of misery to her tone had me nodding. I sat on the edge of her couch. She pulled a pure-white blanket off the back and snuggled beneath it. She let out a contented sigh, and within a minute, her breathing changed.

  I watched her sleep for a few seconds. She looked so small and vulnerable lying there, her hands tucked beneath her head, her rosy lips parted. A groan escaped my throat. Fuck, I was in so much trouble. I wanted her, more than I’d wanted a woman in a very long time.

  Forget it, Jared. I did not need a complication like her in my life. I needed to fuck some faceless, nameless woman who had the same aims as me: a night of orgasms and no strings.

  I finished my juice, picked up her glass, and placed it, along with mine, in the sink. I headed for the door and then I hesitated. What if she puked again, but in her sleep this time? I’d barely slept a wink last night, my hearing on full alert in case she choked. I couldn’t leave her now. No, I’d wait until she woke up, then once I was certain she’d fully recovered from last night’s exploits, and the worst of her hangover was behind her, I’d go home.

  I removed my cell from the inside pocket of my coat and retook my seat. I dropped Noah a quick note, let him know what was going on, receiving his reply in seconds. He’d amuse himself this morning, and then we’d meet up this afternoon.

  Paisley started to quietly snore beside me. I found it endearing, which pissed me off. I might be hellishly attracted to her, but I didn’t want to like her. Liking someone indicated deeper feelings than simply wanting to fuck them, but I couldn’t help it. Paisley’s eyes held a deep sadness. For a woman who had everything, she seemed to have nothing of substance. A bit like me. Maybe we were kindred spirits.

  I closed my eyes and must have dozed off. The next thing I remembered, a noise awoke me. I cracked a lid. Paisley had maneuvered herself, her head resting in my lap. I reached out and stroked her hair. It felt like silk, the strands easily slipping through my fingers. The noise came again. Only then did I realize someone was knocking at the door. I didn’t want to wake Paisley by shifting her off my lap, so I ignored it. They knocked for a third time, the loudest yet. Paisley stirred. Her eyes fluttered open, and she blinked up at me.

  “Jared?”

  She covered her face with her hands and scrubbed hard, then stretched. The movement thrust her chest upward. My eyes fell on her tits. Paisley Nash had the best tits I’d ever seen. Perky and slightly more than a handful. My cock came to life, right beneath her head. I prayed she didn’t notice.

  “Is it still morning?” she asked sleepily.

  I checked my watch. “No. It’s just after one.”

  She giggled. “So what’s with the morning wood?”

  Goddammit. Just my luck.

  “Someone’s at your door,” I muttered, hoping to distract her.

  “Saved by the bell?” she said, looking up at me, eyes twinkling.

  I hastened to stand, dislodging her. Not playing that game, sweetheart, no matter how inviting those aqua irises were. “Want me to get it?”

  She turned on her side and propped her head up with her hand. “No, ignore it.”

  The knocking ceased, and then Paisley’s phone rang. She glanced at it but didn’t answer that either.

  “Sit with me again,” she said, patting the couch beside her.

  I shook my head. “It’s time I went home.”

  She got to her feet, her toe poking at a loose thread on the rug. “Stay,” she said, her gaze slowly lifting to mine. “I could make us lunch.”

  Hell to the No. Fucking. Way. I was already teetering on the edge of caving, my cock uncomfortably hard.

  “Can’t. I’ve got plans.”

  A strange expression crossed her face, one I couldn’t place.

  “A date? With a girl?”

  My lips automatically curved into a smirk. Here was my chance to set Princess Paisley straight and remove temptation from my path.

  “A girl?” I quirked an eyebrow. “No, sweetheart. I don’t date girls. I fuck women. Maybe when you grow into one, you’ll understand the difference.”

  She flushed beet red, and her hands curled into fists, but before she could respond, I sauntered to the door and opened it. Whoev
er had been knocking earlier had given up and left.

  “See you in Australia, Paisley.”

  Paisley

  I stared at the door, my hands curled into fists, anger running riot through my veins. The cheeky, arrogant, cocky, smug bastard. How dare he?

  Except… Except he had a point. Women didn’t go around getting blind drunk, throwing up in public, collapsing in bathrooms, and having to be rescued by one of their dad’s employees.

  Stupid little girls did that.

  And here I was, desperately trying to build a career in a man’s world, determined to earn respect…

  I covered my face with my hands and groaned.

  I owe him an apology. A groveling, meaningful apology, not a flippant Paisley special.

  I darted for the door and spilled into the hallway outside my apartment, missing the lift by a split second.

  “Goddammit.”

  I ran into the stairwell. All the dashing around stirred up the queasiness again, but too bad. I couldn’t let Jared just leave. Not without telling him how sorry I was, and how much I appreciated the care he’d taken of me when I’d been incapable of looking after myself. Not to mention my sincere gratitude that he hadn’t ratted me out to Dad.

  By the time I reached the lobby, my stomach swirled with nausea. I skidded to a halt in front of the bank of lifts. Dammit. The one Jared had been in was already on its way back up. I made a dash for the exit.

  “Jared!” I called out as I spotted him about to get in the back of a cab. “Wait, please.”

  He paused, one hand on top of the door, and glanced back at me. His chest expanded in a heavy sigh. “What do you want, Paisley?”

  You! I almost screamed. Instead, I jogged over and said, “I owe you an apology.”

  His forehead wrinkled, his expression registering surprise.

  “I really am sorry. For ruining your shirt, for passing out on you, for being so grouchy, especially as all you’ve done is act with kindness and understanding. I’m trying so hard to prove myself to Dad, to you, to everyone that I can cut it in this game, that I’m a grown woman.” I gave a sharp, bitter laugh. “I think we can safely say I’ve got work to do.”