by Lauren Asher
“No one should be this excited to see the Houses of Parliament.” I nudge Elena’s ribs with my elbow.
She shoots me a dazzling smile as she snaps a photo. “It’s Big Ben.”
“I can show you what else is big.”
She covers her mouth to muffle her laugh. “Ay Dios. Ayúdame y dame paciencia.”
“Weird. You confused me with God last night too.”
Elena bends over, laughter bubbling out of her uncontrollably. “Stop.” She smacks my hands away as I pinch her sides. “I can’t handle this version of you.”
“The nice kind? You want me to go back to being naughty?”
She stands straight and smiles at me. “Happiness looks good on you.”
“You know what else looks good?”
Her eyes roll effortlessly.
“You. You look good.” I kiss the top of her head.
Elena runs a hand down her light pink dress. A natural blush creeps into her cheeks, contrasting against her golden skin.
I place a kiss on each of her cheeks, eliciting a sigh from her.
“I thought you being mean was going to be the death of me, but I’ve changed my mind. You being caring and sweet is absolutely frightening.”
“Oh, love. If only people’s nightmares looked this good.” I twirl on the heels of my boots.
Her laugh shoots straight through my heart, hitting me with the best feeling. One I know I’ll grow addicted to, despite fearing if it’s only temporary.
We spend the better part of the late afternoon visiting every touristy part of London. Elena invites me to a teatime, and I let her pay because gratitude seems important to her.
I realize I enjoy time away from the F1 circuit. The anxiety that usually eats away at me isn’t making a presence over the summer break. I find the experience rather refreshing. For the first time, I’m hesitant about returning back to race. This unusual uncertainty makes me wonder if I’m enjoying myself enough with racing to sacrifice the good years my mum has left.
Elena thrusts her phone in my hand, prompting me to table my inner dilemma for another time.
She walks away, leaving me behind as she enters a telephone booth. “Could you take a picture of me? I want to send it to Elías.”
Elena poses like an influencer. I snap a few pictures of her like that before I crack a joke. The photo I take of her laughing is my favorite, and like a wanker, I send it to myself before she has a chance to take her phone back.
“Any other wishes before we go back to my parents’ house?”
“Can we go in that?” She points to the London Eye: the ultimate tourist attraction and an eyesore.
I think up a plan quicker than the blood in my brain can relocate itself to my dick. See, I may be acting like more of a gentleman, but I’m not that much of a gentleman.
“Sure. Let’s wait for nighttime. It’ll be better—I swear.” I steer us toward a local pub. We sit in the corner, away from prying eyes, with my back facing the bar.
These moments make me hate being a celebrity. Today alone, twenty people have asked for my autograph. The attention stifles me at times, especially when I want to blend in like a normal arsehole taking his girl out in the city.
Shit. My girl? Damn.
Our waitress’s eyes rake over me before they flare with recognition. She pretends otherwise as she asks for our drink orders. Thank fuck.
Elena’s nose scrunches as her eyes scan the menu. “What do I get?”
The simple trust she offers me fills me with a sense of pride I’m unaccustomed to.
“Two pints of Guinness, please.” I smile at the waitress. She takes off before returning with the drinks.
Elena gives me free rein to order our food too, so I ask for two orders of fish and chips. Her reaction to the first sip of her drink has me nearly spitting out my own.
“This is disgusting.” She coughs before chugging from her water glass.
“You said the same thing about swallowing my cum the first time. Look how far you’ve come.”
The look she sends my way has me dropping my head back and laughing.
“Can you go back to being less likeable?”
“You like me? You really, really like me?” I bat my lashes.
She throws a wadded-up napkin at me. “Nope. Not at all.”
“Bet you liked me last night when I was between—”
“Two orders of fish and chips!” Our waitress blushes as she drops off the food.
“That’s totally going to end up on Twitter. Thanks a lot.” Elena pops a chip into her mouth.
“Would that bother you?”
“What?”
“If we somehow ended up on a social media website?”
She eats a few more chips, no doubt buying herself time to think. “I don’t know, to be honest. The thought scares me because I’m a pretty private person.”
“And I’m not.” I say it with more venom than intended. It’s not directed at her, but rather my situation. Fame is nothing it’s cracked up to be. Unlike Liam and Noah, I wouldn’t mind disappearing from it all.
“It’s not entirely your fault, but you can’t help the fame attached to your name and job. I prefer to be behind the scenes.”
“I don’t like it either. The fame and constant disappointment following me if I cock up.”
Elena frowns. “I’m sure you don’t. And also, I’m afraid of what others in PR would think of me. They could assume I’m sleeping around to get ahead and land more clients.”
“Fuck them. Who cares what random people have to say about us?”
She raises a brow. “Is there an us?”
Yeah, Jax, way to fucking go. Good luck navigating this one. “I know there shouldn’t be.”
Her eyes drop to her lap. “Right.”
The way my chest aches at the sight of her pain is fucking unsettling.
I grip her hand, holding it hostage. “But I want more with you. To spend more time together and for us to get to know each other on a deeper level.”
“We’ve spent months together already. Honestly, I could’ve lived without knowing you drink orange juice after brushing your teeth. That’s basically the eighth deadly sin.”
I smile while shaking my head. “I want to know everything about you.”
“You really don’t.”
“I’ll never be satisfied until I know every dark secret that goes on inside of your pretty little mind.”
“I thought I was vacant like my dolls?”
“Please, love. The only vacant thing about our entire exchange was my words. And I regret them.”
She rolls her eyes.
I squeeze her hand tighter. “But…I’m sorry. Seriously, I’m sorry for every shitty thing I said. I’ll make it up to you in time. With my words, with my actions, and most definitely with my tong—”
“Stop! Okay, you’re forgiven.” A blush creeps up from her neck to her cheeks.
I pop a chip into my mouth and smile.
After dinner and a couple of drinks, Elena and I make our way toward the lit-up London Eye. I skip past the line with Elena in tow. She raises a brow at me as the security guard lets us through without an issue, not even asking for any identification.
The attendant at the loading area looks at me with wide eyes. “Shit! Jax Kingston!”
Another worker smiles at me and asks for my autograph.
“Sure. Hand over whatever you want signed. I assume you have a Sharpie or something?”
The two guys nod and pass me their work hats. They ask me about this season, and they tell me how they’re rooting for me to win the British Grand Prix in a couple of weeks.
The reminder fills me with dread. I don’t want my break with Elena to be cut short. Things between us are starting to feel right. Banishing those thoughts, I whisper something to the worker, grab Elena’s hand, and walk into the next capsule. A conveniently empty capsule as per my last-minute request to the fan.
She giggles to herself as she walks
to the safety bars.
“What?” I walk up to her, pressing her body into metal.
“The guy tripped over his own feet to secure you a private ride.”
“All the more fun for us.”
She raises a brow at me before she leans on the glass. I press my front against her back as I run a hand up her thigh. Her wearing a dress is an added bonus, giving me access to what I’ve been craving all day.
“What are you doing?” she whispers even though no one else is in the capsule with us.
“What do you think?” I push her hair to the other side of her neck, allowing room for my kisses. I trace yesterday’s hickey with my tongue before sucking on the sensitive skin again.
Elena moans, pushing her ass into my cock. “Stop. People can see.”
“Who?”
Elena looks around at the other capsules in our eyeline. The guys who asked for my autograph set us up with an empty capsule behind us. The people who loaded before us are all watching the London skyline with little interest in what we’re up to.
“There are people right there.” Elena points to the occupied capsule.
I lift the hem of her dress so her bare ass presses against my jeans. “Who gives a shit? Sucks for them because I got the better view.”
One of my hands snakes around her to hold her in place. I make quick work of removing her knickers and pocketing them in my jeans. “Turn around.”
“But what about the camera?” She points to the corner of the pod.
“Remember my new favorite fan down there? I emphasized the need for privacy, cameras included.”
“Do you always get what you want?”
I chuckle. “Basically. Now turn around.”
She hesitantly turns toward me.
“Sit on the rail.”
Her head snaps toward the people in the other pod. “Oh my God. I can’t believe you.”
“I won’t ask you again. Sit on the rail like the good girl we both know you like to be.”
She blushes as she sits on the cool metal. Her back faces our neighbors, and the long hem of her dress blocks them from seeing me sink to my knees in front of her.
Elena follows my silent command and places her legs over my shoulders, giving me full access to her. Her eyes shut when I part her folds and sink my tongue into her.
Fuck. I love the way she tastes as much as the way she reacts to my touch. The moan she releases makes my cock throb in my jeans. I fuck her with my tongue, teasing her to the brink of pleasure.
Her needy fingers grip my hair and tug me closer. I suck on her clit, pulling a soft sigh from her I wouldn’t mind hearing every day.
Every day.
Damn.
Anxiety creeps up my spine before I have a chance to shut it down. I don’t want to worry and feel guilty about the future. But it’s hard to ignore how Elena makes me think about the what-ifs, and that alone is risky.
I take my confusion out on her body, fucking her relentlessly with my tongue before her orgasm rips through her. Her legs tremble against my shoulders as she attempts to gather herself.
But like me, I don’t want her to pull herself together. I want her desperate for more. For her to silently understand my need to dominate her—to have some semblance of control over the spiral our lives are becoming together.
I stand. Elena moves to get off the railing, but I shake my head. “Stay.” I unfasten my jeans and push them down enough to release my cock. I pump it a few times, loving how her eyes focus on me. All of me.
Elena turns her head to check on our neighbors. The group of tourists is enamored by Big Ben and all the London goodies.
“They give zero shits about what’s happening here.” I grab a condom from my wallet and sheath myself. Elena sighs when I rub the head of my cock against her opening.
“This is what you do to me.” I nudge her legs apart, having her spread more for me. “You make me desperate for more.”
We both groan when I enter her with one thrust. I rock back to slam into her again, slapping my palm against the glass next to her head.
“Oh, wow.” Elena sighs as she grips my shoulders for leverage.
My tempo increases as our capsule continues its ascent to the top. By the time we are at the highest point, a trickle of sweat drips down my back. The connection I have with Elena continues to grow as I pump into her like a man who is a moment from losing control.
Elena holds my head between her hands and kisses me. I still inside of her, feeling the energy shifting around us. It’s charging, growing into something unfathomable. Her kisses say everything words can’t. She demands my attention as her teeth sink into my bottom lip.
I kiss her while I fuck her, moving faster and sloppier. Elena banishes my negative thoughts with her erotic kisses, shrouded in trust and salvation.
A craving builds within me to be everything Elena needs despite my growing anxiety.
To be everything she didn’t know she wanted but couldn’t live without.
And with that thought, we explode together in more ways than one.
32
Elena
The sounds of Jax and his dad’s grunts fill the at-home boxing gym. Vera and I took up a spot on a bench that seems custom-made to offer her the best comfort.
“You know, something is different about you.” Vera taps my sneaker with her cane.
“I’m testing out a new hairdo.” I brush a hand across my braided halo crown.
She shakes her head. “I call bullshit. Mothers know best. You’ve got a glow to your skin I’m not used to seeing, and my son has been smiling a lot more than usual. That was the dead giveaway.”
My cheeks flush. “Maybe it’s something Jackie feeds us. I had a feeling there was something off about her brownies.”
Vera lets out a cackle. “Whatever you’re doing for Jax, thank you.” Her words surprise me more than her arms wrapping around my body. “I’ve wanted nothing more than for him to find someone who makes him happy. To make him want more in life besides trophies and contracts. These last few weeks with you have been amazing for him.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
She pulls away. “Don’t worry about that. There’s nothing a mother wants more in life than to see her children happy. You’re that for him.”
“We’ve only been getting along for a month—two months tops.”
“The heart doesn’t care about time. It cares about feelings.” She taps her chest.
“What if it’s wrong?”
“The question you should be asking yourself is what if it’s right.” She turns her body back toward the ring.
“Do you plan on staring at me all day or are you finally going to get in the ring?” Jax yells at me from across the room.
“I think that’s my cue to go.” I rise from the bench.
“Show him how it’s done.”
I throw a smile over my shoulder as I stride toward the sparring ring. Zack nods at me before he exits and strolls toward Vera.
“I want to test a theory.” Jax parts the ropes for me to enter.
“Oh, do tell.”
“How many seconds until you surrender?”
“Fifteen.” I plaster on a fake nervous smile.
He offers me a cocky grin. “Five.”
I shrug. “Game on.”
“When you’re slamming your hand against the floor begging for this to be over, remember not to deny me again.”
“You make it sound like I denied your offer for sex rather than self-defense classes.” Last week when he asked, I politely declined, telling him I didn’t need them. I guess Jax still holds a grudge about it.
Zack yells from across the gym, counting down from three. The moment he shouts go, Jax makes a clever move I didn’t see coming.
He swings his foot out, knocking me on my back. Zack laughs while Vera yells at me to get up and show him how girls run the world. My legs remain planted on either side of his thick frame, giving me a good vantage point.
A rush of laughter escapes me. “You’re sick.”
“But you like me anyway.” He plants a soft kiss on my cheek before sitting and applying a little more pressure to my neck.
He hesitates when I shoot him a smirk similar to his. I use his stance against him, with my legs wrapping around his waist as I press my right arm on the inside of his left elbow and my left arm on his right shoulder blade. I push my foot into his hip bone before turning my body. Both my legs move out from under his before pressing his head into the mat.
My legs grip his trapped arms between them before I grab his wrist and make the sound of a bone breaking. “You were saying?”
Vera hoots while Zack claps.
Jax mouth parts as he stares up at me. “That was hot as fuck.”
I push his wrist a little more, not wanting to hurt him. He slaps his hand against the mat.
I stand before offering him my hand. “I denied your request because I already took self-defense classes. If you’d quit your moping after I said no, I would’ve told you.”
He grabs onto my palm and lifts himself up, barely hiding his smile. “I like you more and more by the day. You might be my dream girl, Gonzalez.”
The warmth radiating throughout my body at his words tells me how much I want that to be true.
I’m going to be Jax’s date to the benefit gala raising money for foster children. The event is to support a foundation he donates lots of money to every year in honor of his father. That means walking a red carpet while clinging to Jax’s arm, coming out officially as a couple.
To put it lightly, I’m freaking the fuck out.
I pace my makeshift bedroom, my heels clicking against the hardwood as I walk back and forth. A wave of nausea rolls through me as I think of my name being splashed across tabloids and social media accounts.
