“OK,” I call over my shoulder to Enzo, “Start me up!”
“Oh, I intend to,” he winks.
“I mean the ignition, jackass,” I tell him.
“Right, right,” he grins, manning the external starter. Most F1 cars have to be started by a pit crew member, who inserts a long rod into the car’s starter hole to get things going.
And yes, I know exactly how dirty that sounds.
“Have a good run, beautiful!” he calls, as the engine begins to whirr.
He called me beautiful, I think rapturously, as the purr builds to a roar. But all thoughts of Enzo quickly fade away as the powerful machine kicks into gear beneath me.
I take off down the long, flat expanse, hands tight on the steering wheel. By all rights, I should be pissing myself in fear right now. I’m whipping down the track in an insanely powerful vehicle that I have zero experience with. But against all logic and reason, I don’t feel scared at all. Whenever I’m behind the wheel, a cool, calm focus always comes over my mind and body. And it’s no different this time around. I don’t dare push Enzo’s car to its utmost capabilities. Instead, I get to know the feel of it, testing my prowess against its potential for speed. It’s a dance between me and the car, an improvisation. I lose myself in the thrill of this new experience, a wide grin spreading across my face.
In no time at all, I’ve swooped all the way around the track, back to where Enzo stands waiting for me. I speed past him, the blood rushing wildly through my veins. Letting the car drift to a halt once more, I remember that I came to this track with a mission: to prove to Enzo that I’m worthy of my place on Team Ferrelli. I wait with bated breath as my mentor lopes over to the car, stop watch clutched in his hand. His gorgeous face appears beside the car, those dark eyes boring into me from above.
“So?” I prompt him, lifting the helmet off of my head, “How’d I do, professor?”
“Are you seriously telling me that was your first time behind the wheel of an F1 car?” he asks, his voice unreadable.
“First time,” I assure him, “Scout’s honor.”
“Well then,” he says, leaning his elbows on the side of the car, “I’m not only amazed by your time, kid, but I’m also pretty pleased to have been your first time.”
“You’re totally an ass, aren’t you?” I smile, blinking into the bright sunlight.
“Totally, completely, absolutely,” he says, his eyes gleaming.
And before I can say another word, his mouth is on mine. I gasp as he kisses me, hard and fast, over the side of the F1 racer. Without thinking, I bury my hands in his hair, pulling him closer to me. Between the adrenaline of the ride and the aching need for him I’ve kept tamped down inside me, this sudden contact has me reeling. His hands fly to release me from the confines of the car’s safety harnesses, and soon enough I’m free. With no effort at all, he lifts me out of the car, his mouth moving against mine all the while.
My boots hit the pavement as he backs me up against the warm metal surface, his tongue gliding against mine, probing deeper and deeper into my eager mouth. His big, capable hands explore my every curve, caressing my breasts through the thick material of the jumpsuit. I clasp my hands behind his thick neck, crushing my body to his. In a moment of daring, I close my teeth around his bottom lip, and smile as he sucks in a quick breath.
He pulls back to stare at me, leaning back against his car, my face flushed from the rush of the drive—not to mention the kiss. The wind is nearly knocked out of me by the sheer intensity of that stare. I have to work to draw deep breaths into my heaving chest as he looks me over, inch by inch.
“I have to tell you, Ace,” he murmurs, using my nickname at last, “I don’t think you could possibly be any sexier than you are right now.”
“You just saw me in an evening gown and heels,” I remind him.
“I know,” he growls, running his strong hands down my sides. “And my point still stands. If I’d known last night that you weren’t only sexy as hell, but that you could drive too? I don’t think I could have let you leave that balcony.”
“And now?” I breathe, resting my trembling hands on his chest.
“Now...” Enzo says, his voice low and ragged, “We can either do the smart, professional thing and keep our hands to ourselves, or we could do the honest thing. Are you an honest person, Ace?”
“I like to think so,” I whisper.
“Then come on,” he says, brushing my hair behind my ear, “And you can prove that to me, too.”
He takes my hand in his, and we all but sprint back toward the abandoned garage. My rational mind is screaming at me to stop and think about what I’m doing, but my body is having none of it. Decorum can go to hell, for all I care. I squeeze Enzo’s hand as we book it back to the entrance of the shadowy garage, feeling like I’m going to burst if I don’t get to feel those hands all over me in the next three seconds—
“Hey you two!”
I stumble into Enzo’s solid form as we stop dead in our lusty tracks. Looking wildly around the supposedly abandoned test track, I spot two figures up in the stands, waving at us amiably. Squinting into the blinding morning light, I make out a flash of blonde hair. It’s Bex and Charlie Spano standing there, looking down at us with curious smiles spreading across their lips. I take a hasty step away from Enzo, smoothing down my tousled hair. Shit. How much of that did they see? With the twinkle in Bex’s green eye, it’s tough to say.
“Chuck,” Enzo grumbles, shoving his hands deep into his jeans pockets. “What brings you down here on a Saturday, my friend?”
“Siena mentioned that you and Ace were going to start her training this morning,” Charlie replies. “Thought I’d swing by and make sure you were all set to go.”
“We’re doing just fine,” Enzo tells him, laying a platonic hand on my shoulder. “In fact, Ace just took her first spin in an F1 car. She’s as good as Siena’s been saying all along.”
“You...already took out the car?” Charlie asks, the color draining from his face. “Without a pit crew here, or a medical team on call, or any supervision whatsoever?”
“Yep,” Enzo grins, “Just the two of us.”
“Lorenzo,” Charlie says, gripping the railing in exasperation, “I know that you’ve always done whatever the hell you wanted around here when our dads we in charge. But now that I’m the team’s manager, I really do insist that you run this kind of thing by me first.”
“What’s the problem? We’re both in one piece,” Enzo shrugs.
“That’s not the point,” Charlie shoots back heatedly. “You don’t have the run of this place anymore, Enzo. It’s a new era. I know that you grew up hearing the same stories that I did, from our dads’ generation. About the loose cannon drivers, swilling booze and smoking like chimneys, sleeping around and not giving a fuck. But that’s not how our generation does things, Enzo. No more playboy antics this season, you hear me?”
I look nervously at Enzo, expecting him to explode in a rage at Charlie’s harsh words. My brooding mentor stares up into the stands for a good, long moment. The air crackles with tension as the two men glare across the space at each other, ready for a fight. But when Enzo finally opens his mouth, a hearty, bellowing laugh comes ringing out. I look at him in amazement as he doubles over with uproarious laughter, his shoulders heaving with the hilarity of it all. Bex lays a steadying hand on Charlie’s shoulder. The manager looks downright furious.
“Oh man. I’m sorry Chuck,” Enzo finally manages to say. “For a second there, I thought you were actually telling me how to do my job as the lead driver for this team. The job that I scraped and toiled and slaved away for my entire life. I thought that you, a rookie manager, were trying to put me in my place on my own damn track. But that couldn’t possibly be the case, could it, Chuck? You don’t have the balls to—”
“Why don’t we all just take a breather here, yeah?” Bex jumps in, grabbing hold on Charlie’s arm as he seemingly prepares to hurl himself at Enzo. “Lots o
f things are changing this season. I think we all just need a little time to...adjust.”
“I’m adjusting just fine,” Enzo says, slipping his arm around my shoulder. The warm weight of his embrace makes me lightheaded at once. “See? Look how good me and Ace are getting along already.”
“That’s one way to put it,” I mutter to him.
“Well that’s...very nice to hear,” Bex says, raising an eyebrow at us. “I’m sure that Siena and the owners will be really relieved to know that you two are playing nice.”
“Are we ever,” I smile with as much gusto as I can muster.
“Swell,” Bex chirps in reply. “Were you two done driving for the day?”
“Sure were,” I reply, aching when I let myself consider what we were about to do instead.
“Why is the car still out in the open then?” Charlie says suspiciously, looking back and forth between Enzo and I.
“Sorry Dad. I’ll try and make sure I put my toys away next time,” Enzo spits at Charlie.
“Anyway!” Bex breaks in immediately. “I thought I’d snag a picture of you two for the Team Ferrelli Facebook page. A press release went out this morning with a video of Siena’s announcement at the party. I’m sure the Ferrelli fans would love to see another pic of you guys at the track.”
“Sounds like a great idea,” Enzo grins, tugging me closer to his body. “Smile, Ace. The whole world is gonna know your face now.”
I offer up the toothiest grin in my arsenal as Bex snaps a picture of Enzo and me with her phone. His arm slips down around my waist as the shot is taken, and I have to swallow a little gasp of longing.
“Excellent,” Bex says. “Thanks, you guys.”
“No problem at all,” Enzo replies. “We make quite the pair, wouldn’t you say so?”
I look over at him, wide-eyed. Is he trying to blow our cover? Who knows. I get the feeling that discretion isn’t exactly one of Enzo’s strong suits these days.
“I guess we’ll let you two get back to...training,” Bex says, tucking her phone away. I can tell that she’s onto us. Those eyes of hers seem like quite the bullshit detectors to me.
“I’ve actually got to run,” Enzo says, letting his arm fall away once more. “I’ve got a flight to catch.”
“Oh. Are we...done here?” I ask pointedly, searching Enzo’s face.
“Done for the today,” he confirms casually. “You mind grabbing a lift back to the villa from Bex and Charlie?”
“No,” I say flatly, crossing my arms, “No, that’s fine. But where are you off to? I thought we were going to start some more serious...training.”
“There’ll be plenty of time for that,” Enzo says. “Besides, Charlie can start you out until I get back. Isn’t that right Chuck?”
“That’s right, Enzo old pal,” Charlie says, grinning wryly. “By all means, you should get going. Wouldn’t want you to get a late start on your next vacation.”
“Always the gentleman, this one,” Enzo says, giving Charlie a jaunty salute. “See you cats in about a week.”
And just like that, he’s off. I stare after his retreating form, dumbstruck in his wake. Bex and Charlie stare down at me from the stands, head cocked identically to the side. I can see the questions brimming in their eyes, but they don’t seem ready to voice them just yet.
“Why don’t we head on back to the villa, then?” Bex suggests. “I think Camilla’s whipping up a light lunch for everyone. Wouldn’t want to miss out.”
“Sure,” I say, unzipping the front of my jumpsuit. “Just let me get out of this stuff and I’ll be right there.”
I hurry back into the garage, shucking off the jumpsuit as I go. My hands are trembling, my head is spinning, I’ve lost track of which way is up. What the hell just happened back there? Was I seriously about to come in here and have my way with Enzo, just like that?
Taking deep, steadying breaths, I slip into my own clothes again. Maybe it’s a good thing that Enzo is jetting off for the week. I could use a minute to get my bearings around here without the constant distraction of Enzo Lazio and his gorgeous, irresistible charms. But as much as I try and shake him out of my head, I can’t forget the way he looked at me in that car. For all his joking and teasing, there was something real in his gaze at that moment. Something deep, and raw, and full of passion.
Or maybe that was just the adrenaline talking?
Clothed once more, I dash out to Bex and Charlie’s car. Sinking against the back seat as we swing around toward the villa, I feel my cell phone vibrate in the pocket of my jacket. I pull out the device and glance at the text waiting for me. Probably it’s just Alec, checking in on me for the millionth time. My brow furrows as I see that the message is actually from an unknown number. I open the text and read:
Sorry we were interrupted back there. Make no mistake, I was about to ride you hard and dirty, kid.
I feel the blood rush to my cheeks as I stare down at the scintillating text. With shaking fingers, I manage to shoot back:
Me: Would this, by any chance, happen to be my naughty professor’s number?
Him: Who else? How many other men do you have sending you illicit texts, Ace?
I smile down at the phone and reply:
Me: Wouldn’t you like to know? I wish you hadn’t had to run off like that. I wanted to talk about what went down back there.
Him: Trust me. If I’d had my way, we would have had a lot more to talk about. I won’t be able to get you out of my mind all week. You were incredible on the track for your first time.
Me: You’re just saying that to try and get in my pants. I know how you boys work.
Him: I’m trying to get you out of them. But my points stands that you’re a damned good driver. I can’t wait to get to work with you.
Me: Are you talking about training now, or something else?
Him: What do you think?
I still my fingers for a moment, trying to proceed with caution. As wild as Enzo makes me feel, this is still a business relationship. These things are notoriously delicate. Not to mention the fact that I met him all of twenty-four hours ago. I can’t rush ahead. There’s too much at stake.
Him: I want to see you the second I get back.
Me: Where, the locker room?
Him: I’ll book us a hotel room on Friday night. The rest of the team thinks I’m getting back on Saturday. Lie and say you’re visiting an old friend in Rome. I think we deserve a little quality time, don’t you?
Me: Enzo, I really don’t know if this is a good idea. We have to think about the team. Our careers.
Him: Ace, let me tell you a little secret about being an F1 driver.
Me: Oh, by all means, Professor.
Him: The best part of this job is getting to do whatever the hell you like, whenever the hell you please. For fuck’s sake, we put our lives on the line every time we get into those cars. Every race could be our last. There’s no time to waste in this life. So you’re gonna meet me in Rome at the hotel of my choosing and let us have what we both desperately want. Sound good?
We’re pulling into the Villa’s circular driveway as I try and formulate a sufficient response. The rest of the Lazio and Davies families are waving from the terrace, lunch arrayed on the patio table. I can’t be sexting Enzo when I’m about to sit down to a picnic with his entire family, that’s for sure. Sliding out of the car, I hastily shoot back:
Me: I’ll think about it.
Hell, I doubt I’ll be able think of much else for the rest of the week that he’s gone.
Chapter Ten
My mentor may be off gallivanting who-knows-where, but my Team Ferrelli training kicks into high gear all the same. For the next several days, I work nonstop with Siena, Bex, and Charlie on everything from talking points to driving to dealing with aggressive paparazzi. And while the workload is totally overwhelming, my new colleagues make sure I have everything I need to be successful on and off the track. In addition to my guest quarters at the Lazio family villa, I’m also
given a generous per diem, a private car, and all the comforts I could ever dream of. It’s not exactly a conventional employment setup, but the Ferrelli gang is determined to make this arrangement work.
To be honest, I think that Siena feels a little bit guilty about the way Enzo reacted when this whole thing was announced. If only she knew how my relationship with her brother has developed since then. By all rights, I should be the one with the guilty conscience. In the days following our little test track tryst, Enzo’s been texting me nonstop from wherever the hell he is. He’s relentless about spending some “quality time” together in Rome. I still haven’t given him a definitive answer, and it’s already Thursday night. I’ve just arrived home from the test track to share a meal with the Davies’, and the Spano’s, and Camilla. They’ve been nothing short of extraordinarily hospitable to me, which only makes this romantic conundrum trickier.
On the one hand, I’m insanely attracted to Enzo Lazio and always have been. He’s gorgeous, talented, charming, and immensely intriguing. He also does things to my body and my heart that no man has ever done before. Spending a sexy, illicit night with him in the beautiful city of Rome seems like a wet dream come true.
But on the other hand, he’s my mentor. My teammate. My colleague. That means that any relationship we have is the entire team’s business, including his family’s. I certainly haven’t asked Siena outright if she’s cool with me boning her brother, my fellow driver. No one’s said that a “workplace” romance would be forbidden, but I doubt Siena would be thrilled about her two favorite Ferrelli drivers having their heads and hearts (not to mentioned their more intimate parts) wrapped up in each other instead of in the game.
Should I play it safe, or ask for forgiveness later instead of permission now?
Faster Dirtier (Take Me...#5) (A Team Ferrelli Novel) Page 9
