FASTER HOTTER
Take Me... #4
by Colleen Masters
A Hearts Collective Production
Copyright © 2014 Hearts Collective
All rights reserved. This document may not be reproduced in any way without the expressed written consent of the author. The ideas, characters, and situations presented in this story are strictly fictional, and any unintentional likeness to real people or real situations is completely coincidental.
DEDICATION
Thank you to all the fans who support me and have given such incredibly kind words over the past few months—you know who you are :) Thank you all for reading, Faster Hotter is the fourth and final book in the Take Me... series—enjoy!!
Faster Harder (Take Me... #1)
Faster Deeper (Take Me... #2)
Faster Longer (Take Me... #3)
Faster Hotter (Take Me...#4)
Other Books by Hearts Collective:
Damaged But Not Broken (New Adult Rockers) by W.H. Vega
Wounded But Not Scarred (New Adult Rockers 2) by W.H. Vega
Falling Harder (New Adult Romance) by W.H. Vega
Broken Strings by Brynn O'Connor
Fuel To The Fire by Brynn O'Connor
Special Thanks to LJ Anderson at www.mayhemcovercreations.com for the beautiful cover art and design.
CONTENTS
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Epilogue
PROLOGUE
Just after the Dallas Grand Prix...
A tipsy little gasp of surprise slips past my lips as Harrison lifts me up into his arms. The hotel hallway carpet falls away beneath me as he scoops me up like a bride on her wedding night. I look into his clear blue eyes, willing my gaze to steady itself. This hasn’t been the soberest of evenings, after all—what with our championship titles to celebrate.
“Babe, we’ve made it back to the room,” I tell him, “I think I can manage to walk the rest of the way.”
“Come on,” he grins, cradling me against his firm chest, “Let me escort the champion over the threshold.”
I laugh as he nudges the door of our hotel room open with his sculpted shoulder and carries me inside.
“I think you’ve got the wrong Lazio, lover boy,” I giggle, “Last I checked, it was Enzo who won the championship, not me.”
“I most certainly do not have the wrong Lazio,” Harrison says, bearing me across as the room as if I weighed nothing at all. “You were the real champion today, Siena. You were our champion. You know that, don’t you?”
“I guess that was some fancy footwork with Marques, huh?” I smile.
“That was some super sleuth shit, is what that was,” Harrison says, attempting to set me down gently on the bed. But I’m not the only one who’s been raising a few celebratory glasses tonight. Harrison loses his balance and falls onto the bed beside me, drawing raucous laughter from us both. We role towards each other, our hands unable to be kept to ourselves.
“Uh-oh,” I chide playfully, “Did Mr. Lead Driver have a few too many at the bar?”
“On the contrary. I don’t think I had nearly enough,” Harrison says, pulling me toward him. “Lead Driver: Harrison Davies,” he says, tasting the words as if they were a fine smoky scotch. “Goddamn, I like that sound of that.”
“That makes two of us,” I tell him, planting my hands on his solid chest, “Do you know how proud I am, after what you did today?”
“It was a bloody good race,” Harrison says, smoothing down my unruly curls.
“It was, but that’s not what I mean,” I tell him, “You could have easily taken first place today; you were right there at the finish fine. But instead, you let Enzo have it. I want you to know how much that means to me.”
“I didn’t let him do anything,” Harrison insists, “I just needed to make damn well sure that Marques didn’t make it across that finish line. And, well...maybe I cut him off with the knowledge that Enzo would take first. And that maybe I’d make it onto his good side, finally...”
“Aww,” I tease, “Trying to get in good with my big brother, huh? Maybe now he’ll let you take me to the prom.”
“You are incorrigible, Siena Lazio,” he growls, pulling me on top of him. I swing a leg over his trim hips, straddling him on the bed.
“I am...surprisingly drunk,” I tell him, “I don’t get it. I only had a couple of drinks at the bar. The rest of you were pounding them like there was no tomorrow.”
“Well, champagne goes to your head right quick,” Harrison says, laying his hands on my hips, “You’re more of a red wine girl, most days.”
“Damn straight,” I smile, moving my hips ever so gently against him, “What can I say? I’m a lady with pretty good taste.”
“You’re here with me, aren’t you?” Harrison winks.
“Now, now,” I say, clicking my tongue, “Don’t let that team championship title go to your head, Mr. Davies. You’ve got a long career ahead of you, now. Can’t be getting cocky this early in the game. I might just have to put you in your place...”
“I’ve always been cocky,” Harrison reminds me.
“You can say that again,” I say, pressing tantalizingly against his crotch.
“As fun as wordplay can be,” Harrison says, sliding his hands over the rise of my ass, “There’s something else I’d much rather be doing with my tongue than twisting it.”
Harrison’s arms circle my waist and pull me down. I fall forward onto my hands; my body drawn tightly against him. I stretch out across his tall, cut form—savoring the feel of his hard, muscular body beneath me. My fingers find their way into his dirty blonde hair as our mouths come together. Harrison’s tongue arcs into my mouth, and a sigh of bliss escapes my throat. As our tongues entangle, I can feel my pulse begin to quicken in my veins. So much for leaving the tongue twisters behind.
“This time next year,” Harrison growls, rolling me onto my back, “I’ll be a world champion. I promise you that, Siena.”
“You don’t have to promise me anything,” I tell him, running my hands over his rock hard biceps, “Only that we’ll be together.”
“That part’s easy,” he smiles, bringing his lips to my neck. His hands travel along the length of me, leaving searing trails of sensation wherever they go.
“Easy?” I laugh, “We haven’t even known each other a year, Harrison. We’ve already been at the heart of a major scandal, a crime spree, and a few rather nasty fights, if I’m remembering things correctly. We’ve traveled the world, beaten up spies, witnessed countless wrecks and acts of mayhem...”
“Like I said,” Harrison shrugs, “Easy as pie.”
“I think you may have developed some memory problems after your last crash,” I tell him, cocking an eyebrow, “Our relationship so far has been anything but a walk in the park. Not that I’m complaining or anything...”
“Well sure,” Harrison says, training his eyes on mine, “But everything we’ve worked through together, it hasn’t felt like work. Not to me. We belong together, Siena. No question. So anything we have to overcome, we will. There’s no other option; there’s no ‘maybe not’.”
I feel my heart begin to race with an irresistible cocktail of love and lust. How can one man be such a bad boy sex god and a passionate romantic all at the same time? And what the hell am I doing wasting time with questions when he’s laying on top of me?
“There’s no doubt in my
mind either.” I tell him, wrapping my long legs around the small of his back. He leans into me, his stiffening member pressing right where I want to feel it most. I grind against that firm length, reveling in the feel of it against me. It’s an incredible thought, but there’s literally not one thing about Harrison that I would change. Sure, he has his flaws. He’s quick to anger, and quicker to put himself in insanely dangerous situations. But all of those things just make me love him more, in the end. He may be a cavalier bad boy, but he’s my cavalier bad boy. And only I know that there’s a heart of pure gold beneath those hard, smooth pecs. I love being the only person who truly knows Harrison—and the truth is; he’s the only one who knows me, too.
Looking up at him in our darkened Dallas hotel room, a novel, crazy idea strays into my mind. What if Harrison and I made our love for each other more...official? I’ve never thought of myself as the marrying type, and picturing Harrison Davies settling down might have seemed mad before I knew him. But now I can’t help but wonder. When we’re together, it’s like we’re in a world of our own. We understand everything about each other so well, share the same ambitious drive and diehard tenacity. We’re already poised to be F1’s new power couple. So what if...
“What are you smiling about?” Harrison asks, running his fingers along my legs. I shiver as the skirt of my black dress pools around my hips, leaving nothing but a thin layer of cotton covering my aching sex. Without thinking, I arch my back, bucking my hips toward him.
“I’m just really...glad I let you buy me a drink in Barcelona,” I whisper, as Harrison runs his fingertips along the flimsy cotton panel of my panties, teasing me.
“That must have been one hell of a margarita,” he says, slipping two fingers beneath the thin fabric. “I’m just glad I managed to guess your drink. Imagine what might have happened if I sent you a gimlet.”
I groan as I feel him slide up inside me, ever so slowly. The firm, deft pressure of his fingers sets my vision to swimming. My legs fall from his waist as my knees part. I can’t help but open myself to his expert touch. We’ve gone so wild together where sex is concerned, testing each other’s boundaries and limits. But sometimes, a simple touch like this can get me to the edge just as quickly as the wildest, kinkiest act. Harrison doesn’t need to do anything else but touch me to turn me all the way on, but that won’t stop him from going the extra mile.
My hands clench against the comforter as his thumb finds that throbbing nub, the center of all my pleasure. He traces long, slow circles there, sending rivulets of ecstasy dancing all along my body. I writhe beneath him, my eyes screwed up tight. The rolling waves of pleasure intensify with each round, and my breath is coming hard and fast. The entire world is narrowed to our two bodies, my entire mind is made up of Harrison.
“You’re going to be the end of me Davies.” I moan.
“Maybe,” he breathes, “But this is still just the beginning.”
He lowers his mouth swiftly to my sex, his tongue flicking irresistibly against my clit. The attention of his hands and mouth are too wonderful for me to take quietly. I can’t be bothered to swallow my ecstatic cries as Harrison sends me toppling over the edge of bliss again and again. If this is how he likes to celebrate his world championship victories, well that’s just fine with me.
CHAPTER ONE
The next morning...
I steady myself against the edge of the hotel bathtub and pull myself up off the cool tile floor. Quickly flushing the evidence of my alarming sickness down the porcelain throne, I tiptoe past the sleeping Harrison, out into the hallway. My best friend Bex is waiting there for me, concern knotting her brow. She arrived just a few moments ago, waking me from a slightly drunken, very satisfied sleep to see if I had any extra tampons lying around that she could use.
Not until that moment did I realize that I’ve completely lost track of when Aunt Flo last stopped by for her usual visit.
“What was that?” Bex asks, as I close the door behind me.
“Too much champagne maybe?” I offer, chuckling nervously.
“You didn’t even finish a second glass of the stuff last night,” Bex reminds me, “I know, because I polished off glass number two when Harrison and Enzo started their karaoke rendition of ‘We Are The Champions’. Your man is a stunner, but his voice is another matter entirely...”
“Well, it was a really stressful day, wasn’t it?” I go on, “I mean, we did manage to salvage the championship for our team and take down a crazed maniac. I’m still a little out of sorts is all.”
“Siena Lazio, are you trying to shake me off?” Bex asks, planting her hands on her hips.
“No!” I say, unconvincingly.
“I saw your face when I asked for a tampon, Missy. I know that face.”
“Can we not talk about this right here?” I whisper, looking around nervously.
“Fine,” Bex says.
She takes me by the wrist and tows me down the hall to the room she’s sharing with Charlie, son of Team Ferrelli’s manager and her brand new fiancé. He dropped onto one knee just after Enzo took first in the Dallas Grand Prix. Leave it to Charlie Spano to propose on a race track—F1 is as much a part of his life as mine. We were basically raised side-by-side, and he’s always been my closest guy friend. I’m over the moon for the two of them, really I am. But right now, panic is eclipsing my supportive-best-friend capability entirely.
“Charlie’s already at breakfast with some of the guys,” Bex tells me, pushing me inside her room and locking the door. “So spill, please. What the hell is going on?”
“Bex, don’t jump to any conclusions here,” I say, pacing around her hotel room, “I know this all sounds bad, and OK, the puking thing didn’t help—”
“Whoa, whoa,” Bex says, taking my hands in hers, “Take a breath, Siena. Let’s talk about this, OK?”
I nod, taking in my friend for the first time this morning. She looks impeccable as ever in short pink briefs and an off-the-shoulder tee. Her blonde curls are loose and easy this morning. My brunette waves hang down around my shoulders above the cotton romper I threw on to sleep. God knows how I remembered to put on PJs after the night Harrison and I had, but right now I’m glad that I did. I settle onto Bex’s bed and suck in a few quick breaths.
“Great,” Bex says, “Now, think hard. When was the last time you had your period?”
I cast my mind back through the months, counting through the Grands Prix of this season. Surely I was riding the crimson wave at some point through all of that? But between my budding romance with Harrison, the news of my father’s illness, the media shit storm, and Rafael Marques’ dastardly interference, I seem to have lost track.
“Um...honestly, Bex, I’m not sure,” I admit, “I think the last one was, like, two months ago? Really, I think it’s just this one month I’ve missed.”
“Right,” Bex replies, her face miraculously calm, “You’ve been incredibly stressed, like you said, what with all this tournament stuff. Do you usually stop getting your period when things get crazy?”
“I...no,” I admit, “No, my cycle’s like clockwork. I’m on the pill, so—”
“The pill. Good,” Bex chimes in, “And you’ve been on top of taking it, right? Same time of day every day and all?”
“Oh god...” I moan, letting my head fall into my hands, “I’ve been shit about it, Bex. All these time zone changes we’ve been dealing with, and the running around...God, what’s the matter with me? I should know by now that I get careless with that stuff during tournaments. I’ve never been one for flings, so I guess it’s just never been an issue...”
“Well...There’s a chance it might be an issue now,” Bex says carefully, laying a hand on my back. “Do you really think that drinking had anything to do with why you threw up earlier?”
“No, you were right. I only had a little champagne,” I say, feeling the color drain from my face, “That was not a hangover puke. That was...was that...?”
“Like you said, let’s
not jump to conclusions,” Bex says firmly, jumping up from the bed, “It’s only been this month, so it could seriously be anything. Let’s just make sure, OK? You stay here, I’ll run down to the hotel pharmacy and get us a couple of pregnancy tests.”
“What if Charlie comes back?” I say nervously.
“Please,” Bex says, “He’ll be on a replay loop about yesterday’s race for hours. We won’t see hair or hide of him until he and Gus have relived every glorious moment of the tournament. We’re fine. Start chugging water, you. I’ll be right back.”
Bex disappears, leaving me alone with my spinning thoughts. I stand slowly, my every nerve on high alert. In a daze, I make my way toward the hotel bathroom and close myself in. With trembling fingers, I reach for the plastic drinking cup and start filling it up again and again. I gulp down water until I’m totally full, my belly ready to burst. My eyes stray down along my reflection in the mirror, lingering on my flat midsection. Tenderly, I rest my hands against my stomach. Could this really be happening?
Children have always been something I’ve wanted, just like marriage, but I always assumed it would happen to me much later in life. Enzo’s always given me shit about the fact that it’ll probably take me until I’m sixty until I get around to marrying. Personally, I never thought that was such a bad thing. I’ve always been career-minded, and that doesn’t always go hand-in-hand with wanting a baby. I mean Jesus, I’m only twenty-five years old! All of my peers are still out getting shit-faced on Saturday nights or living in their parents’ basements. I’m already ahead of the game just by having a job and forward momentum. Is this really the time to jump ahead to having a baby?
I jump as I hear Bex bound back into the hotel room. She knocks tentatively on the bathroom door.
“You OK babe? Need some ginger ale or something?” she asks.
“Just some answers about what the hell is going on would suffice,” I tell her, swinging open the door.
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