by Lucy Ellis
She had put herself in this precarious position. She didn’t chase after men. They chased her. Growing up watching Raymond work the female sex like a one-armed bandit had taught her that powerful lesson. To be the object of desire, not the one caught by desire. Therein lay hurt, abandonment and shame.
She knew she should go and get in her car and drive home. This had been a bad idea… Her idea of waving her chequebook at him and forcing him to accept payment for the Sunbeam seemed impossibly naive.
‘Fancy a ride?’
His deep voice wrapped around her, every bit as delicious as the first time she’d heard it.
She turned around and found him a few feet away, dressed in jeans and a black T-shirt—so similar to the first time she’d seen him. All that thick dark hair was rumpled and a faint five o’clock shadow etched his strong jaw. His intense blue eyes gleamed in the fading light, watchful as a stealthy animal of prey. He was holding the straps of two helmets in one hand.
‘Careful, Nash, what if someone sees us together?’
‘Sweetheart, about fifty cell-phone cameras went off at once around us this afternoon. I think caution at this point is overrated.’
That wasn’t the answer she wanted. She wanted him to say he didn’t care and put her in his car anyhow.
‘Come on,’ he said abruptly.
He had opened a door. She stepped back. ‘This one?’ She looked doubtfully at the low-slung car.
‘Blue 16. It won’t bite.’ His eyes were on hers, and why the expression in them reminded her of the wolf’s paw reaching for Red Riding Hood she couldn’t have said.
‘Much,’ she added dryly, reaching out a hand for the helmet.
He grinned.
Oui, the wolf.
He laid his helmet on the top of the car and moved in with hers.
Lorelei reached up to free her hair from the scarf but he was tangling his hand in it, tugging it away. Memory of the other time he’d touched her like this made her unbearably conscious of his big hard body only a hand-span from her own.
He must have felt it, too. ‘Your hair,’ he said, leaning in to inhale.
She felt his lips momentarily against the warm top of her head.
‘Silky, soft… It smells like you.’
Breathless, Lorelei barely had time to react before the helmet was coming down, obscuring her pink cheeks, her questioning eyes.
He buckled the strap under her chin and Lorelei realised she’d been waiting for this ever since she saw him helping the little girl.
She’d wanted him to help her with the same attention to detail, deliberateness, care…
She felt like an alien in the helmet. It made her smile.
Nash held the door. ‘Get in.’
*
Possession was nine tenths of the law, Nash figured. Once he had her in Blue 16 she was pretty much his. A court of law might argue the toss, but he wasn’t much interested in anyone else’s opinion other than the girl sliding into the high-performance car.
He hadn’t planned any of this, but when he’d seen her standing over here by the cars, just waiting for him, everything male and predatory in him had fired up. If he was going to do this, he might as well do it right.
He couldn’t help tracking her legs in those leave-nothing-to-the-imagination jeans, the curve of her peachy derrière as she slid into place, her small breasts pushing up against the disco-dolly top. Everything about her was lithe, delicate, incredibly sexy. Feminine. Everything about that, about her, got him going.
This was hardly the first time he’d used a touring car and high speed to get a woman in the mood, but it was over ten years since he’d felt it necessary and right now it felt new. It felt like the first time.
It felt incredibly right.
He swung in beside her.
He adjusted his own helmet and ran a soundcheck.
‘How do you feel about a bit of speed?’ he asked through the mike.
‘Exactly how fast are we going to be travelling?’
‘Fast enough.’
She made an I’m-in-your-hands gesture.
How right she was.
He accelerated off down the track, keeping it simple, hugging the edges. Then he ramped it up. He loved this—those first moments when the car leapt from routine into supersonic and then there was just the rush.
The velocity shoved Lorelei back against the seat. She was grabbing the leather under her knees. He was going to scare the bejesus out of the little princess and then take full advantage of the results.
As the car flew down the track he could hear her panting breaths through the amplified mike. He could sense her tiny movements, her shakes and shudders. This was what he wanted. Her response, her subjection to his desires.
‘Are you okay?’ He spoke into the mike above the roar.
‘Mon Dieu!’ she panted.
And he knew, without taking his eyes off the track, that she was loving it. Every minute. And in that moment he wanted to give her the ride of her life.
She gave a shout as he rode the corner hard and tore down the strait. She squealed again, shoulders thrown back by the velocity, and he knew exactly what she was feeling because he’d felt it, too. The first time. Every time after.
This was why he raced.
It didn’t explain why, with her, it felt new.
As he pulled back the speed and gradually rolled the car to a stop he could hear her breathing, her little murmurs of, ‘Oh, my…oh, my…oh, my.’ He knew he had her. What he didn’t understand was why this felt so important.
They got out in silence.
He had his helmet off, but she was still unbuckling hers.
She threw her head forwards and back to release her flattened curls. They fell about her head in a messy tangle she didn’t even try to smooth down as she lifted sparkling eyes to meet his. She was absolutely how he wanted her: messy, confident, excited.
Her lips parted and she was breathing hard and laughing. He knew exactly how she was feeling. The blood was surging through his body but it had nothing to do with speed or the adrenalin rush. She stepped towards him and he found himself making the same move.
Neither of them spoke.
All Nash could think was that he wanted her so badly he would have thrown her across the bonnet of Blue 16 if half a dozen other guys hadn’t been within gawking distance.
Lorelei was looking up at him as if she shared every one of his thoughts.
‘Wow,’ she said softly. ‘Thank you.’
‘You’re welcome,’ he said just as softly.
Lorelei felt herself drift towards him and suddenly Nash was there, in her space, and the atmosphere between them was on fire.
‘Come on,’ was all he said, and she allowed him to take her hand. She knew what he meant.
*
He put her in his civilian car, drove the highway just on the limit.
Lorelei didn’t ask him where he was taking her. She was too busy asking herself what she thought she was doing.
He’d barely touched her but her body was literally humming, and the tension in the car was doing her head in.
What was he thinking? Where was this going? Did it really matter?
He’d made it pretty clear he was in charge.
She watched the capable pull and push of his big hand on the gears, his long, strong arm, the cut of musculature running under the high sleeve of his T-shirt, the faint press of his chest as he breathed in and out, the way his jaw settled with precision as he concentrated on his driving. He was driving fast, but he was driving safely. He had made her feel safe since the moment she met him.
They were coming up to the turn-off.
‘Your place or mine?’
It was the first time he’d spoken.
It was a question she couldn’t hide behind, pretending this wasn’t about sex. I came to the track to find you, to let you know I was available to you…
This never happened to her. Never. She was always cautious. She didn’t me
et a man and climb into his car and go home with him… Her breath hitched because she realised they’d come to a stop at the turn-off and she still hadn’t answered him.
Nash cupped her chin, lowered his mouth to hers. Kissed her so sweetly she wanted to cling to this moment.
He did let her go. To decide for her.
‘My place. It’s closer.’
CHAPTER NINE
IT WAS the longest drive known to man, although practically Nash knew it was barely twenty-five minutes.
Lorelei’s soft, sexy eyes on him driving were about as close to actually being skin to skin without taking their clothes off.
Her quiet bothered him, though.
Was she thinking about Massena? Did he need to go there, ask those questions?
He didn’t share.
He was very, very possessive.
Okay, up until now that hadn’t been the case with other women, but it appeared to be the case with this woman.
He’d been up all night thinking about her, visualising her with another man’s hand on her waist, another man seeing her home. It was unreasonable. He’d blown her off. He’d been the one to call a halt. Everything he knew about her meant this was playing with fire.
The traffic in town was heavy. The light was leaving the sky and the boulevards were twinkling.
Nash shot the Veyron in and out of snags until they were mercifully prowling into the garage under his apartment complex.
Lorelei’s chest was visibly rising and falling as they sank into the spotlit gloom, the darkness making the space between them more intimate and strangely tense. The excitement and adrenalin rush of the track had been infiltrated by reality. Nash remembered the things he’d said to her, virtually accusing her of being a media-whore, and yet here she was, despite all of that.
‘About my car—’ she said suddenly, her voice low and husky.
‘All taken care of.’
‘I know, but—’
‘Why bother your head about those things?’ He cut her off. ‘It’s nothing—a trifle.’
He could sense in her the need to say more, but all of a sudden she just subsided, looking down at her hands in her lap.
‘The flowers were lovely,’ she said instead.
Nash suspected she was trying to tell him something, but he didn’t want to hear it. This wasn’t about him fixing things for her in her no doubt chaotic life. Nor her eminently female desire to turn their liaison into something prettified with flowers and romantic gestures. He was here for one purpose and one purpose only: to work through this unholy desire to have this woman any way he could get her. All. Night. Long. They’d deal with the morning and where they went from there tomorrow.
For a guy who liked to plan, he was certainly enjoying making it up as he went along.
Which somehow was making this hotter.
‘This is where you live?’ Lorelei said a little breathlessly as they pulled up.
‘Penthouse.’
She looked around. ‘Must be nice being in the centre of everything.’
‘It has its compensations.’ Like now.
‘At least you can park somewhere. So we’re safe from the public ordinance.’
He liked her turn of phrase. He also liked that she was betraying a little feminine nervousness. No, sweetheart, you’re definitely not safe.
‘Nash?’ She put her hand on his knee and for a moment he had the thought she was going to climb over and straddle him in the goddamn sports car. But then he realised that was his fantasy and she was just looking at him with a question in her eyes.
He didn’t want to answer those questions. Except he was remembering something she’d said to him. Here was I, thinking you were a gentleman, but you’re just a man…like all the rest.
He winged the door. ‘Stay there. I’m coming to get you.’
‘No, Nash—’
‘Yes, Nash.’ He gave her a slashing smile and in a fluid movement was out and around to her side of the car.
She looked up as he winged her door and hesitated a moment. He liked that hesitation. It made him want to reach in and scoop her out, to take instead of ask, but Lorelei seemed only to need a moment to make up her mind. She swung her lithe legs out, never taking her eyes from his, reminding him in every movement of her class and her poise and why he needed to be a gentleman… She literally stepped out of the car and into his arms.
He felt the delicacy of her bones, the softness of her bare arms as they wound themselves around his neck, the scent of blossoms and honey bees from her hair or her skin or simply the way she was. She brought her lips to his, confident and sure, before his mouth slanted over hers and his plans for tonight disintegrated.
He had intended to thrust deep, to make sure they both got the message that this was about dealing with a problem—sexual attraction—and overturn any idea this was a romantic scenario. They were both grown-ups. They’d both been here before. It wasn’t going to go beyond that. Yeah, he was going to make her understand…
Until now, with her in his arms, one hand curled against his cheek, her lips soft and responsive beneath his, when the kiss turned tender and romantic and deeply fulfilling on some atavistic level he didn’t want to explore. Not now.
Not when he had this.
He heard her sigh his name.
Obeying primal instinct, he tucked his hands under her bottom, shaping the incredible contours, and lifted her until she was sitting on the bonnet of the Veyron. Thinking he needed to get her sky-high and they were currently below ground, he wondered what in the hell he thought he was doing. But he needed to kiss her more.
One more taste, he promised himself, pulling her in tight, feeling the warm skin of her waist as his hands delved under the silky fabric of her top. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingers tangling in his hair, making soft, satisfied little noises in the back of her throat that warned him this was quickly going to move out of control if he didn’t get her off the car and somewhere private.
But it was Lorelei who broke the kiss, pulling back, eyes wide, breath coming fast, her whole body quivering. She looked around, not yet past caring.
Nash found himself bringing a hand to her cheek. ‘There’s just us. You and me.’
Her eyes softened. She touched his hand with her fingertips. It was a small gesture but he couldn’t help entangling his fingers with hers, taking that small rough palm in his own.
‘Inside?’ she said a touch anxiously.
‘Inside,’ he agreed.
*
Nash lifted her from the bonnet and, taking her hand, strode to the elevator. He swiped the pass key and the doors closed. Even as Lorelei turned into his arms, pressing her face to the hard solidity of his chest, she felt the ground give way beneath her as they were hurled skywards.
She was breathing him in—heady, musky, spicy, hot male and, faintly, soap. The kind of plain soap she liked, not fancy. He was all kinds of good things, and even as her mind was running ahead, fantasising wild and wonderful, she wanted to cling to this moment, when it was just her, burrowing into the strength and solidity of him, and him tightening his hold on her.
She was vaguely conscious of a slight ping, the doors sliding open.
He lifted her as if she weighed nothing and carried her into his apartment.
As he kicked shut the door she took in the downlit expanse of modern masculine interior design. Smooth parquet floors, oyster walls and carpeting, and floor-to-ceiling windows that gave onto a multimillion-euro view of the velvety star-scaped vista of Monaco’s famous marina. Lorelei had been in some fancy homes in this town for parties and receptions, but she’d never made love in one. Faintly she thought there was something to be said for a sky-high room with a view when it came to romancing a woman.
There was also something to be said for being literally swept off her feet.
‘Nash?’ She brought her palm hesitantly to his cheek.
He caught her hand, kissed her palm fiercely and kept going. He kicked op
en a door and Lorelei could see two dressers, a huge eastern rug, a vast bed. A man’s bed—so different from her own ice-blue silk Art Deco double. She registered chocolate-brown linens and a neatness and uniformity to everything that made her smile a little. But that smile faded as he released her, and she slowly slid down his body until she was standing on her own two feet before him.
She instantly felt a little dwarfed. His shoulders were impossibly wide, and the power of his sheer masculine dominance over her physically and, she suspected, sexually in this encounter gave her a moment of pause.
To even things up it would probably be best for her to step into his arms, initiate what she wanted, make her own demands… And yet as she waited to find her own rhythm in this dance all she felt was longing. For him to kiss her again, to be tender with her, for this to be somehow different from what she’d ever known before. She didn’t know why this man, why…
‘Let me see you,’ was all he said, in a voice so soft it was velvet over her sensitised skin.
Obediently she toed off her canvas lace-ups, but Nash was already enclosing her in his arms, as if he couldn’t help himself, his hands at the back of her neck, tugging at the ribbon that held her top in place.
‘Let me,’ was all he said.
So she let him. He was having trouble with it, and so close against him she could feel his tension. She could offer to help…
But when she lifted her hands he shook his head, bent his head, and his hot breath whispered against her ear. ‘Let me.’
The ribbon gave and with infinite care Nash was peeling off her top, bending down as it fell away to press his mouth to the gentle swells of her breasts above the delicate floral pattern of lace just screening her nipples. He unfastened her fragile gold bra and it drifted to the floor, a cobweb of silk and lace. Lorelei registered the spike in heat between them as Nash viewed her bared breasts in the soft light, felt the splay of his large hands beneath the slight under curves, closed her eyes as his thumbs dragged across her nipples.
‘You are so beautiful,’ he told her.
She opened her eyes to find his expression first intent upon her own and then dropping down. She followed his gaze, drinking in the intensely intimate sight of his big tanned hands cupping the curves of her breasts.
