Take Me Series (COMPLETE BOX SET)

by Masters, Colleen

  “I don’t blame you,” I tell him, “It’s just...I’m starting to wonder whether you know just how hard this is for me. Do you have anything on the line by being with me? Anything at all?”

  “How can you ask me that?” he says, his blue eyes blazing.

  “It just seems like you’re in the clear, all of a sudden, and I’m going to get screwed however this turns out,” I tell him.

  “In the clear...? Siena, you do realize what your family means to this sport, don’t you?”

  “Sure,” I shrug, annoyed by his tone, “We’re F1 royalty and all that. Blah, blah—”

  “You’re beloved,” he says, his jaw clenching, “Your dad and brother are the golden boys of F1. They’re everything that drivers should be. They’re good looking, smart, well bred, ferocious, and loyal. And as for me? I’m the degenerate bad boy whose father drank himself to death before he could see me race even once. I’m the underdog, Siena. Do you have any idea how powerful Ferrelli can really be? They could never go after me for winning a race fair and square, but if they decide that my being with you is unacceptable, I’m gone.”

  “How can that be true?” I ask quietly.

  “Simple,” he says, leaning his elbows onto the table, “This sport is as ruthlessly capitalistic as any. Ferrelli’s investors have got more cash in the game than anyone else. All your team would have to do is threaten to withdraw some of its advertising cash flow, and they can get whatever they want. Including my resignation.”

  “That would never happen,” I insist.

  “Like it or not, you’re a princess in the fans’ eyes,” Harrison says, “And no one really wants to see their princess carried off into the sunset by some tattooed ruffian from a bad family. I’ve got just as much to lose as you do, Siena, but I’m trying to find some way for us to come through this together. Because as terrible as getting knocked out of the sport would be, losing you before we even got a chance to try and be something would be much worse.”

  “You mean that?” I ask.

  “Absolutely,” he says, reaching across the table and taking my hands in his.

  “Well. We could disappear into the Hungarian countryside and never be heard from again,” I point out.

  “It’s a thought,” Harrison says.

  We smile across the table as plates of delicious food are set down in front of us. The tension has been diffused for the moment, but I know that this is far from the last time the two of us will have to have it out. I’ve always know that relationships take work, but damn have we got our work cut out for us.

  “I liked waking up next to you the other morning,” Harrison tells me, “I wish we could make a habit out of it.”

  “I do too,” I tell him, “It made this whole thing feel...”

  “Real?” he suggests.

  “Well, yeah,” I say, “For a while, I thought you were going to lose interest once we’d slept together. Move on to the next F1 groupie.”

  “Before you, that’s probably exactly what would have happened,” he says, “To be perfectly honest, I never could have imagined something like this before meeting you. I mean...look at us!” he gestures around the terrace, “We’re having a goddamn date night, of all things!”

  “Is that so out of character for you?” I tease.

  “You're damned right it is!” he exclaims.

  “Then why did you insist on coming here?” I ask.

  “I...I don’t know,” he says, “I guess I’m still trying to impress you.”

  “That’s adorable,” I smile.

  “Don’t play with my delicate heart,” he smirks.

  “I have an idea,” I tell him, “Why don’t you pay up, take me out of here, and show me what a night with Harrison Davies is really made of?”

  “You wicked woman,” he breathes, “I’m not the only one who’s full of surprises around here, am I?”

  We hightail it out of the restaurant, our arms thrown around each other. After all, I didn’t sneak out of my hotel for some expensive appetizers alone. There’s only one thing that will sate the hunger that gnaws at me day in and day out since meeting Harrison. Luckily, he’s more than happy to dish out as much as I can take.

  Harrison helps me into his car and takes off through Budapest. The city is almost surreal in its ancient beauty. We find ourselves a noisy, crowded bar full of young people. I’m way too overdressed, but it feels so nice, slipping into a sea of people my own age for once. Harrison and I spent our every waking hour with team members and reporters twice our age. But tonight, we’re just two twenty-somethings in what could possibly be love, one day. And I’m going to enjoy every minute of it.

  We grab ourselves a couple of vodka martinis from the bar and make our way to a secluded corner of the bar. I settle down onto Harrison’s lap, feeling my inhibitions melt in this anonymous place.

  “This is more like it,” I tell him, letting my lips brush lightly against his neck.

  “Keep that up, and we’re going to have to relocate again,” he warns, “I’m thinking somewhere with a bed and soundproof walls.”

  “Maybe later,” I laugh, “But right now, I just want you to dance with me.”

  Harrison takes a long swig of his drink and follows me out onto the dance floor. I feel like we’ve stepped back into time to the first night we spent together in Barcelona. God, it feels like so long ago already. I turn to Harrison and place my hands on his hips, closing the space between us. Skipping dinner like we did, my drinks are going straight to my head. The room goes in and out of focus around me as I swing my hips to the pumping house music. Harrison spins me around, wrapping his powerful arms around me from behind. My eyes close blissfully—I’ve never felt so safe is anyone’s arms as I do in his.

  Time rushes past us as we dance to song after song. I can almost forget, in this dim, enticingly gritty place, that tomorrow will be all about press conferences and coiffed hair. Part of me wishes that I could cast off all my responsibilities there on the spot—quit my job, get a punk hair cut, and backpack around Europe until I go totally broke. Isn’t that what plenty of twenty-somethings get up to before they settle down? Damn professional ambition...ruining all my fun, as ever. But who am I kidding—I’ve always loved working hard.

  “We’d better get you back to the hotel before long,” Harrison tells me, tugging me off the dance floor.

  “I don’t wanna,” I moan, “Can’t we just keep dancing?”

  “I’ve got a race to win in the morning, sweetheart,” he smiles, “When you’re singlehandedly running the entire F1 universe and I’m your spoiled, kept man, we can dance each and every night away. But for the moment, we’ve both got work to do once the sun comes up.”

  I begrudgingly let myself be towed off the dance floor and out into the fresh air. Though Harrison and I are staying in the same hotel once again, it’s not as though he can give me a lift home without arousing suspicion. He hails me a cab and opens the back door. I throw my arms around him and kiss him deeply, passionately.

  “I’m not going off to war in the morning,” he asks, “Go home and get some sleep, you.”

  “Goodnight then,” I smile, slipping into the cab, “I love you.”

  The car pulls away from the curb before I can register what I’ve just said. I whip around to stare out the back windshield. Harrison is frozen on the curb, staring after me with his mouth hanging open. Shit! Did I really just drop the “L” word on him? Smooth as ever, Siena. Smooth as ever. I sink back against the seat and cover my face with my hands. Just when our situation couldn’t possibly get more complicated...

  I pour myself back in bed, thankful that no one was awake to intercept me upon my return. As I drift off, my mind is full of Harrison: the man I’ve come to love. Whatever’s going on between us is tricky, and terrifying, and temperamental as hell. But hey, I’ve always loved a good challenge.

  Chapter Seventeen

  A Raw Victory

  The Budapest Grand Prix roars into life the next morning.
I sit in the stands with Bex and Charlie, clasping my hands tightly together to keep them from shaking. I’m unaccountably nervous, so much so that I barely even notice the flirtatious looks Bex and Charlie keep throwing one another behind my back.

  I can’t even begin to process whatever the hell is going on there, not when Harrison could very well be kicking my brother’s ass on the race track. That is, if his big talk is to be believed. But I tend to believe most of what Harrison says, and for good reason.

  The green flag swooshes down, sending the drivers flying into action. The lineup falls into place the same way it has throughout the entire tour. Enzo, Landers, Rostov, Marques, and Harrison roar into the top five spots as if it were nothing. Even from afar, I can tell that something is different about this race. Enzo’s out ahead, but Marques is right on his tail from the start. Landers and Rostov trade off third and fourth place, fighting for incremental leads for the first half of the race. Harrison hangs back in fifth, but I can tell that it’s strategic. He isn’t harassing the other drivers out of their spots, he’s simply biding his time. Is he really going to pull off his first win, like he promised?

  By the time two thirds of the race have been run, I’m on my feet, pacing back and forth in my tiny little square of legroom.

  “Chill out Siena,” Charlie tells me, “What the hell are you so worked up about?”

  “Shhh!” I hiss, “I need to concentrate.”

  “Beaming out good luck to your brother?” Charlie ribs.

  “Something like that...” I say, my eyes glued to Harrison’s red car.

  As the drivers move into the final laps, something shifts. Landers and Rostov have gotten so wrapped up in their charades that they’ve dropped way behind the others in the top five. Marques has wrested the lead away from Enzo, and now my brother is fighting like hell to get it back. Harrison creeps up toward them inch by inch as they vie for first, but neither of them seems to notice. This is it. He’s going to make his move. I shove my hands through my hair, my heart pounding in my chest.

  They rocket into the final lap, and Enzo takes his chances. He jolts ahead, nearly smashing into Marques. The Spanish driver swerves to get out of his way, ceding the lead once more. But he’s not about to go down without a fight. I gasp as he nudges Enzo out of the way, just as they’re bearing down on the finish line. But the brief collision takes Marques by surprise, and he veers out of the way, straight toward Enzo. My bother swings out of Marques’ way, trying to avoid a side-swiping collision. The two lead drivers gravitate toward the outer edge of the course, leaving the inside track wide open for the smallest of moments.

  It’s the opening Harrison’s been waiting for.

  On a sudden, incredible surge of speed, he flies ahead of Enzo and Marques on the inside of the track, ripping over the finish line in first place. Before I even know it, I’m leaping up and down, cheering and screaming over the din. Charlie grabs onto my arm and looks into my face, accusingly. My cheeks burn with alarm and embarrassment, but no one else has spotted me. I tear off through the wild crowd, grinning as the entire stadium cheers for Harrison’s first victory.

  I’m carried through the packed crowd by a wave of momentum. It’s like the entire city is bearing down on Harrison, and I’m no exception. I grab onto the barrier railing and hoist myself up as he glides to a stop and jumps out of his car. A bottle of champagne pops open as he rips off his helmet, and the member of Team McClain surge around him. He scans the crowd until he catches my eye, and shoots me the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen in my life. I lean heavily against the railing, happiness flooding every cell of my body.

  A persistent buzzing at my hip distracts me. It’s probably my dad, asking me to come run damage control. I whip my phone out of my pocket and peer down to see who’s bothering me. I have a score of picture messages from a number listed simply as “Unknown”. My brow furrows as I open the first file and wait for it to load.

  As the picture clarifies, I nearly drop my phone onto to hard pavement. There on my screen is a crystal clear shot and me and Harrison Davies outside of the bar last night. My arms are thrown around his neck, my tiny dress just barely covering my ass. An entire set of pictures staring the two of us, dating all the way back to Barcelona. Someone’s been trailing us. All this time, we’ve thought we were in the clear. A simple message accompanies the damning photos:

  “Stay away, or the world finds out.”

  The world spins around me as I look out onto the track towards the smiling Harrison. As they proclaim him the winner, I can only think of one heartbreaking truth. Everything we’ve built, everything we’ve dreamed, might already be lost.

  FASTER DEEPER

  BOOK TWO

  Prologue

  The night before the Budapest Grand Prix...

  I arch my back against the silken bed sheets as Harrison Davies runs his powerful hands down my body. His touch sends tendrils of electric sensation racing along my every nerve. There’s so much force locked up in that body of his—in those tight, sculpted muscles. And yet, for all that raw power, his every caress is measured, precise, perfect. I guess his skills on the race track do carry over to bedroom, after all.

  “Look at you...” he groans, letting his eyes rake along the length of me.

  “See what you do to me?” I gasp, letting my knees fall open. We’ve stripped each other bare in this secluded love nest. For this moment in time, nothing stands between us.

  Harrison trails his fingertips along my tender thigh, setting my legs to trembling. “I know you’re ready for me,” he says, “But I want to take my time.”

  “You’re going to do me in, Davies,” I moan, pushing my hands through my chocolate brown curls.

  “Maybe,” he grins, a lock of dirty blonde hair falling across his forehead, “But I promise you’ll love every minute of it.”

  He lowers himself onto me, catching my lips with his. His strong jaw pushes my mouth open, and I’m drunk on the taste of him. I dig my fingers into his broad shoulders, feeling him hard against me. Just when I think I can’t possibly be any more fired up, Harrison lets his hand brush against the throbbing wetness between my legs. I fall back against the bed, and he closes in on that hard, aching, tender flesh. I close my eyes in wordless ecstasy as he rolls his fingers across my clit, sending me racing toward bliss at breakneck speed.

  A tremor of breathtaking sensation spills through my body, and I hold onto Harrison for dear life. If I had my way, I’d never let him go. I want to suspend time right at this second, right as he holds me at the peak of unimaginable pleasure. If only we could stay here, lock ourselves up, and learn every inch of each other’s bodies...But the waves of bliss pass through me, and time marches onward, whether I like it or not. At least I can content myself in knowing that, with Harrison, these moments are hardly few and far between.

  “Lay back,” he grins, “We’re just getting started.”

  “Damn right we are,” I breathe, sprawling out across the rust-red sheets, “But while I catch my breath...”

  Harrison sucks in a quick breath of air as I wrap my hands around the staggering length of him. His eyes blaze with want of me as I work my fingers along his rock hard desire. I smile up at him, my body still buzzing in the wake of his expert touch.

  “Don’t you love a little give and take?” I ask him, tightening my grip ever-so-lightly.

  “With you I do,” he tells me.

  “Good,” I say, “Because we’re in this together, Harrison.”

  “Damn right we are,” he growls, knocking my hands away. I gasp as I feel the tip of him press against my slick slit. “There’s no one else I’d rather partner with.”

  I cry out as he sinks into me, making us whole together once more.

  Chapter One

  A Rough Start

  My feet are racing as fast as my spinning thoughts. In a panicked daze, I careen through the tightly packed crowd that floods the streets of Budapest, Hungary. All around me, the cacophonous din of the
just-completed Grand Prix surges and peaks. I can’t will my mind to form a single coherent thought—I’m too overcome.

  I can’t bring myself to glance back down at my iPhone. A barrage of photos has just been sent to me, each and every one starring me and Harrison Davies in various illicit situations. I have no idea who’s behind the unknown number that sent these damning images along—I can’t even wager a guess just now. But whoever it is was very clear about what I’m expected to do with this new information: stay the hell away from Harrison. But if I could do that, we wouldn’t be in this predicament in the first place.

  My entire body is jerked to a stop as a vice-like grip tightens around my arm. I whip around to see who’s apprehended me and come face-to-face with my father.

  “There you are,” he says, a strained and terrifying smile plastered across his face, “Where are you off to in such a hurry?”

  “I...Um...” I splutter, “I was looking—”

  “We need you with Enzo right now,” Dad interrupts, towing me back through the crowd, “He’s going to have a thousand cameras in his face any second, and he’s in no condition to be in front of the media on his own.”

  “I’m actually feeling a little...faint,” I say, trying to extract myself from Dad’s grasp.

  “Siena,” he says, his voice tinged with desperation, “I know that you’ve been under a lot of pressure, but I need you to be a professional right now and step up. Your brother needs you. Ferrelli needs you. You’re great at this bella, so be great at it now more than ever.”

  A little burst of pride washes over me in the wake of my father’s praise. Pushing every thought of Harrison, the photos, the world of hurt we’ve stumbled into out of my mind, I high tail it back to the Ferrelli camp to do some hardcore damage control.