Accelerated Passion

by Lily Harlem

  “Why didn’t you come out with us?”

  She shrugged and dislodged his hold on her. “I had other things to do.”

  He frowned. “Like what?”

  “Things. Girl things.”

  He kind of smiled. “Girl things?”

  “I wanted to swim in peace, watch a movie in peace. Have a break from you lot.”

  “Including me?”

  “Including everyone.”

  “Enrique?”

  “Pardon?”

  What on earth does he mean by that?

  He stepped to one side as if to let her pass. “Nothing.”

  She tightened the belt on her robe. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

  “So what’s your phone number?”

  “My number?”

  “Yes, what is it?” He nodded at her phone.

  “Why do you want that?”

  “You’re one of my senior mechanics. I should have it for a variety of reasons.” He paused. “Did Nail Baum have it when you were on his team?”

  “Well, yes…but…”

  “No buts.” He stepped back up the top step, into his room, then flicked on a light. “This way.”

  She stared at the doorway. How was he so casual about inviting her into his room at night? Was this how a moth felt when attracted to a candle? How a rabbit must feel when tempted into a fox’s lair?

  Her gut feeling was to head to her own room. Swap numbers with Dean tomorrow if that’s what he wanted.

  But she didn’t.

  Instead, she glanced over her shoulder to make sure no one was about, then stepped inside.

  It was messier than last time. The bed unmade and a few items of clothing scattered around. It also smelled strongly of his aftershave.

  She wondered what it would be like to roll around on his bed and let that delicious, aphrodisiac smell soak into her skin. Bliss…

  “Here we go.” He was peering at his phone, finger hovering over the screen. “Let me have it.”

  She reeled off her number.

  “Thanks.” He replaced it on the bedside locker.

  “Okay.” She turned. “Night then.”

  “Frankie.”

  She pulled in a deep breath. “What?”

  “I didn’t say thank you properly.”

  “What for?”

  “You know what for.”

  He was behind her…close behind her. She could hear him breathing.

  The dark hallway stretched before her then the safety of her room.

  “I’m really very grateful. More than grateful. I can see why Eric took you on now.”

  “I’m glad I’ve proved my worth to you.”

  “As a mechanic maybe. But you didn’t need to as a person.”

  She turned to face him. “What do you mean?”

  “I already knew I liked you as a person.”

  “But you hardly know me.”

  “I know enough.” He stepped past her and closed the door.

  Fuck, now she was in Dean’s room, with the door shut, wearing next to nothing.

  And all she could think about was how bloody gorgeous he was. How sex-starved she’d been for so long.

  But, damn it, she didn’t want to be another one of his conquests.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Stay with me for a while. Let’s talk. Then I can get to know you better.”

  She knotted her fingers together. The right thing to do would be to go back to bed, right now, alone. “So what do you want to talk about?”

  He kind of smiled. “I’ve told you about my son. You tell me about your family.”

  “Not much to tell. My parents live in Adelaide, both retired, and my sister is in Melbourne. She’s expecting her first baby in a few months.”

  “Exciting times.”

  “I’m looking forward to being an aunt. Not likely to ever be a mother.”

  “Why not?” He appeared surprised by that statement.

  “I’m not exactly the maternal sort.”

  He stepped past her and sat on the end of the bed. Frowned and rested his elbows on his knees. “How do you figure that out?”

  “I’m a tomboy. Always have been. Mum used to despair with me. Natalie, that’s my sister, she was always playing with dolls and makeup, wore nothing but dresses, but me. Nah, I was in trousers. I had cars, Lego. I made stuff. I liked how things worked, taking them to bits and putting them back together again.”

  “So how do you figure that stops you being maternal?”

  She walked to the window and pulled the curtains to block out the darkness. “I didn’t play with dolls. Isn’t that practice for being a mother?”

  He laughed. “I never played with dolls, but I’m loving being a father. When I get the chance, that is.”

  “It’s different.”

  “How is it?” He seemed genuinely perplexed.

  Frankie had only discussed her non-maternal feelings with Natalie in the past. Natalie hadn’t disputed it. She’d simply presumed Frankie wasn’t the sort to have babies.

  But Dean, he was questioning her. This was new.

  “The way I see it,” he said, “is if you’re a kind and caring person, if you like to see things, people or machines, achieve to the best to their abilities, then you have the qualities to be a parent.” He paused. “For the record, I think you’d be a wonderful mother.”

  It was her turn to laugh. “Yeah, well, you’re all grown up and don’t need a mother.” She looked at the door. “I should get going.”

  As she stepped past him, he reached out and grabbed her wrist.

  She caught her breath and looked at his tight grasp. His big fingers pressed into her skin. “Dean.”

  “I don’t need a mother…” he said, “but I do need a lover.”

  Chapter Eight

  Lover!

  Frankie shook her head. “No. I…”

  “You feel it, too. I know you do. Between us.” Dean tugged her a little closer. Their knees touched. “There’s a connection of minds.”

  Fuck minds. What about his eyes? If ever she’d seen come-to-bed eyes, Dean Cudditch had them. It would be so easy to strip and get sweaty and dirty with him. Take some much-needed satisfaction from his sexy, hard, and toned body.

  She glanced at the door again.

  “Don’t go,” he said in such a husky tone, her belly clenched and a pulse of arousal shot to her clit.

  “Stay…with me.” He ran his hand up to her elbow. “Please.”

  “But…” She was running out of arguments even in her own head.

  He pushed his other hand through her hair and clasped the back of her neck, drew her nearer so their noses were just a whisper apart.

  His touch, the feel of him against her skin. Like earlier, at the pits, when he’d kissed her. It made rational thought fly out of the window. Everything, everyone, the universe, it all faded into the distance—somewhere so distant she didn’t even know if it existed any more.

  “Frankie,” he murmured. “Stay.”

  He pressed his lips to hers. Unlike at the track, it was a soft, gentle kiss even though his hold on her was once again firm and determined.

  She fluttered her eyes shut. Loving the feel of his mouth covering hers, the texture of his lips, the slight scrape of his stubble on her chin.

  He slanted his head, deepened the kiss, and touched his tongue to hers.

  She tried to hold in a small moan of desire but it eased from her throat and into her mouth.

  The sound seemed to spur Dean on, and he released her wrist and wrapped his arm around her waist.

  Next thing she knew, she was on the soft bed, still being kissed. The weight of him, half over her, pressing on her, made her nipples tighten and her body arch toward him.

  Was this really happening? Damn it, the reality was better than any dream.

  She slid her hand over his shoulders, absorbing the heat of him, learning the contours of his back and smoothing down the gutter of his
spine.

  “You taste so sweet,” he murmured then resumed kissing her in a way that told her he had no intention of stopping anytime soon.

  She sighed into it and ran her hand over his hair. It was sharp on the upstroke, smooth when she stroked downward to his neck.

  He was busy with his hands, too. He undid the belt on her robe and pushed the material aside, exposing her vest top and a tiny pair of white knickers.

  He broke the kiss and glanced down. “Fuck, you’re something else.”

  She followed his line of sight. Her nipples were poking at the material of her top and her flat stomach slightly exposed. The color of her underwear made her skin look more tanned than it was.

  “I’ve been thinking about doing this,” he whispered then kissed over her cheek and down the column of her neck.

  “Mmm…” She bent her right leg and pressed it against his thigh. The feel of his jeans on her bare flesh turned her on all the more. “Dean.”

  “Frankie,” he murmured, slipping his hand beneath her top. He slid upward and cupped her breast.

  She wasn’t a big-chested girl but very sensitive. She pushed into his touch, wanting more.

  He trapped her nipple between his fingers then ducked. Through the cotton, he sucked the hard peak.

  “Oh, yeah…” She gasped and squirmed.

  He switched attention to the other breast and suckled that one.

  The heat of his mouth, the pinch of his fingers was like a hotwire to her pussy. She was getting damp, arousal generating a pulsing sensation in her clit.

  Dean slithered down the bed, kissing her as he went. He dipped his tongue into her navel.

  She pressed her head into the pillow, clasped him over the ears. Drew her legs up and around his wide body.

  “Relax,” he murmured, his breath hot on her skin. “And enjoy.” As he’d spoken, he’d gripped the waistband of her panties. He tugged them down and off.

  She was aware of cool air on her hot pussy. He was between her legs, spreading her thighs wide.

  Again, she looked at him.

  He was half on, half off the bed. His focus on her most intimate folds. He was still dressed, yet she was practically naked, bared open, wet, panting for it.

  What the hell was she doing?

  A bolt of panic shot through her. Her heart did a weird flip, and her ears rung.

  She couldn’t do this.

  He’d placed his hands on her inner thighs, was leaning in, clearly planning on tasting her, working on her with his mouth and tongue.

  No.

  She scooted upward and clamped her legs together, giving him a whack on the shoulder with her foot as she did so.

  “Frankie?” he said, surprise flashing over his face. “What—?”

  “I can’t. I can’t, okay?” She dragged her robe closed, covering her nakedness and the damp patches on her breasts.

  “But… I thought you wanted to.” He stroked his palm over her shin

  “I do. I did, but you’re the driver, and I’m a mechanic. It’s not right.”

  He huffed and one side of his mouth tipped into a smile. “There’s no rules about drivers and mechanics.” He moved closer.

  She edged away, to the side of the bed. “Maybe not, but what kind of message does it send to the team?”

  “I couldn’t give a flying fuck.” He’d followed her and was close again, his face looming next to hers and his body heat surrounding her. He pushed a lock of hair over her shoulder and kissed the shell of her ear. “All I care about right now is you. Being with you. Pleasing you.”

  And pleasing yourself.

  She bit her bottom lip. The less she said at this stage the better. She just had to get out of there.

  Oh, but the way he was nibbling her ear lobe and stroking her hair. It was enough to make a girl lose her mind.

  “Stay. I’ll make it good for you. You’ll come over and over and over.” He paused to kiss across her cheek then spoke into her ear. “I’m as skilled at pleasing women as I am at driving fast.”

  His words were like a dagger to her heart. They stabbed right through her ear and settled sharply in her brain. That was exactly it. He wanted a lover. It could be anyone. She just happened to be there. And not only that, he’d now mentioned other women and how his lothario ways had given him bedroom proficiency.

  Well, she, Frankie Wright, would not be another notch on his bedpost.

  Mind made up, she shoved at him then stood. She hunted out her knickers from the base of the bed and screwed them into her pocket.

  “Frankie.” He wore a pained expression.

  He was no doubt hard and seriously upset he wouldn’t be getting any. But Frankie didn’t care. He’d have to sort himself out. The way she did.

  But, damn, she could be tempted.

  He stood.

  She glanced at the impressive bulge going on behind his zipper. Her body was telling her head to shut the hell up and take what she needed.

  But she had to let her brain rule her actions, not her rampant libido.

  She spun around, raced to the door, pulled it open then darted across the hallway.

  She slammed her own door shut. Her eyes prickled with tears of confusion. Her veins were pumped full of lust.

  She wished she’d never woken up—that the team had been quiet when they’d come home or stayed out all night.

  How the hell was she going to face Dean tomorrow?

  She pressed her hands over her face. Her cheeks were hot. She could still taste him on her lips.

  The way he’d kissed her and touched her breasts flashed through her mind. An image of him settling between her legs, preparing to give her oral, came into her brain—his dark stubble, strong nose, desire-drugged eyes as he stared at her pussy.

  She groaned.

  What had she done?

  She could be working toward one hell of a screaming orgasm right now. Coming on Dean’s tongue, pressing herself onto his fingers. Preparing to take his big cock into her body and climax all over again. God, what would he feel like filling her? How would he sound when he came?

  How many times would she reach the dizzying heights of ecstasy?

  There was no doubt in her mind that he was, indeed, an expert when it came to the female form.

  Striding across the room, she spun and stomped back to the closed door. She paced the route again from door to the wall then to the bed.

  Could she undo what she’d done?

  No, stay strong.

  He’d still be hard. His erection still in need of attention.

  Fuck. She was still in need of attention. Serious attention.

  She’d been so stupid. Why had she run away like a scared little girl?

  Now what the hell would he think of her?

  No. It wasn’t like that. She didn’t want to be another lay, another nameless woman who let him fuck her for one night.

  Oh, but she wanted him too. Frankie was only human, and she needed sex and some seriously good sex at that.

  But he’d forget it tomorrow. Forget her.

  So what? Tomorrow was another day.

  She tugged her robe and let it fall to the floor.

  Next, she dragged her vest top over her head and tossed it into the corner.

  She’d go back. Naked. Say she was sorry with her body.

  Are you crazy, woman?

  “Crazy and horny.”

  Shoving her arms into the robe once again, she took a deep breath. She would go back to Dean’s room, but for no other reason than she wanted a shag. She’d been celibate for so long, she was wondering if she’d forgotten how to do it. This wasn’t for him. It was for her. Her libido deserved some attention every now and then.

  She opened her door a crack and peered at the shadow-filled landing. Voices filtered up from the kitchen. Dean’s door was closed again.

  Quietly, she stepped out, pulled her door shut then rested her palm on the handle of his.

  Should she knock?

  No, g
o right in.

  She opened the door, a tumble of nerves rolling around her belly. What if he told her to get out? What if he were furious with her?

  He was sitting on the side of the bed. Still dressed, arms locked behind himself. He was breathing deep, his stomach shifting beneath his T-shirt. He looked up at her.

  “I’m sorry.”

  He shifted his ass slightly, as though uncomfortable. “No need to apologize.”

  “There is.” She nodded at his groin. “I’m not usually such a tease.”

  “You’re not a tease. I read it wrong.” He sat forward and winced. “My fault entirely.”

  Frankie shut the door.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “I want something.” She stepped closer until she stood right before him, shoulders back, chin tilted.

  “What do you want?”

  “You.” She released the belt of her robe, slid it down her back and arms then let it pool on the floor at her feet. Her breaths were shallow, her breasts shifting as she stood utterly naked before him.

  “Fuck,” he muttered. “Are you staying this time?”

  “If you want me to.”

  “Do you even need to ask?” He looked up at her, his eyes flashing. “Come here.” He wrapped his arms around her, cupping her ass cheeks with his hands.

  “Dean,” she said, holding his head as he nuzzled against her stomach.

  “Only if you’re sure,” he said.

  “Yes. I’m sure.” She cupped his chin and urged him to look up at her. “I want to find out just how good you can make it for me.”

  He grinned then—a triumphant smile that showed all of his teeth. “Prepare to need peeling from the ceiling.”

  He tossed her onto the bed.

  She bounced and let out a squeal as her head landed on the pillow.

  He dragged his T-shirt off, threw it aside, and started on his jeans, undoing the buttons one by one.

  She licked her lips. A tremble attacked her belly. How could she have walked away from this?

  He removed his denims but left on a pair of black boxers.

  The material strained forward, and she could easily make out the shape of his shaft, the flare of his glans, and his weighty balls.

  “Now, where were we?” he asked, lying next to her and pushing her hair from her face.

  “I think you should remind me.” She cupped his cheek and kissed him.