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“So I’ve been told,” he murmured as her lips came down on his. Their tongues met and rubbed against each other.
She tasted so damned good. He had noted it the first time they kissed, and it was difficult for him to forget. She made him hungrier for more. If hooking up with her made him feel this good, he might have to break his rule about celibacy during the racing season and keep seeing her.
She framed his face with her hands, tipping his head back. The bed dipped as she put one knee on it next to his hips and half straddled him. He fell back on the bed, using his arms around her waist to bring her with him. He liked the way she felt pressed against him from shoulders to waist.
He ran his hands up and down her back, cupping her butt as she deepened the kiss. Though he’d joked about being known for his speed, he’d never been one to rush sex. And it seemed neither was she. She took her time exploring his mouth and moving against him in small subtle movements that made him wish they were naked. But he didn’t want to stop kissing her to remove their clothes.
She circled her finger around the back of his ear, rubbing against the side of his neck, which made him so hot and hard that he thought he would explode.
He put his hands on her thighs. Her legs were firm and the skin soft. She wasn’t wearing hose, so he was touching her bare skin as he spread his fingers wide and squeezed gently.
She shifted her legs against his as he traced one finger up the back of her thigh. She mumbled something against his lips, but he didn’t register the words, just the husky tone of her voice and the way she continued to move against him. Her mouth followed the path of her finger down his neck. His shirt fell open as she moved down his body.
Pushing the hem of her dress up to her waist, he noticed she had on the tiniest black thong. She shifted, kicking off her heels and sitting back as she looked down at his body. He had an intense workout routine to keep in shape. Other athletes didn’t always realize the discipline it took to be a driver.
Marielle seemed to like his muscled chest. She pushed the shirt off his shoulders, and he sat up, shrugging out of first one sleeve and then the other.
He had a tattoo on the inside of his left arm that read, If Everything Seems Under Control, You’re Not Going Fast Enough. She traced the tattoo and arched one eyebrow as she looked back at him.
“Does everything seem under control?” she asked.
“No, it doesn’t,” he said, wrapping one hand in her long blond hair and bringing his mouth back down on hers.
He didn’t want to talk or think about racing right now. He had been steadily getting better on the track, and a big part of him believed that was because he’d quit hooking up with women, but tonight he didn’t want to think about that. It had been too long, she felt too good and it was a new year.
She put one hand between them on his chest. Her fingers spread wide, and her nails scored his skin lightly. He shuddered and felt himself harden further. She eased her hips forward, her center rubbing against the ridge of his erection.
He groaned as his hips jutted up against her. Oh, damn. This was going to be harder than he thought. It had been too long since he’d held a woman in his arms, and his body seemed to be on autopilot. Like when he was on the final lap and saw the finish line, he was ready to go. He reached between their bodies, intent on freeing himself, finding a condom and driving himself home inside her.
But the back of his fingers brushed against her underwear, and he felt her heat. She made a little sound at the touch against her intimate flesh, and he turned his hand, cupping her and rubbing just the tip of his forefinger between her legs. She spread her thighs farther apart, and he leaned back to give himself more room as he ran his finger around the edge of her thong panties and then dipped it inside, finally pushing his entire hand into the front of her underwear and caressing her. He parted her, tapping her clit lightly. She moaned, and her fingernails dug into his chest a little deeper. He tangled his other hand in her hair and brought his mouth down on hers.
He kissed her as he continued to tap against her, her hips moving subtly. Then she tore her mouth from his and reached for the hem of her dress, drawing it up and over her head, throwing it behind them.
He saw her breasts, small but perfectly naked, and her tiny nipped-in waist. She reached between their bodies and undid his belt and then slowly lowered his zipper.
“I want you naked,” she said.
“Me too. Are you on the pill?”
“Of course I am. I don’t like taking chances.”
“Me either,” he said.
She shifted off his lap, and he pushed his pants and underwear down his legs. By the time he was naked, so was she. She turned back to him, standing there in front of him completely bare, and he took a moment to appreciate how lovely she was. She wasn’t built like a supermodel but was more of a real woman. Her legs weren’t especially long but seemed just right to him. She had a birthmark on her left side that was shaped like a paint splotch; he couldn’t help himself and caressed it, tracing the shape. She had a belly button ring, which he fondled as he used his other hand to draw her back into his arms.
She fell against him, and he rolled over so she was under him. She put her hands on his waist and then squeezed as she ran her hands down his sides. He honestly wasn’t sure how much more touching he could handle before he came on her belly, which wasn’t how he wanted this to end, so he took her hands in his and stretched them up above her on the bed.
He watched her carefully to see if this bothered her, but she just winked at him. “Maybe I’ll let you tie me up later.”
His hips jerked forward at the thought and he could only nod; words were beyond him at this moment. He held her wrists with one hand and drew his index finger down her body, starting at her forehead. She had a pert nose that he couldn’t help dropping a kiss on as he drew his touch down farther, over her lips and her neck and then around the full globes of each breast. He lowered his mouth to one of her nipples while he teased the other one with his fingers.
Then he moved lower, tasting her belly button ring with his tongue, and felt her undulate against him as he moved still lower. He fanned his fingers out and cupped her, running his finger around the opening of her body and then bringing it up to tap against her clit again. She shifted against him, her legs going wider as he brought his mouth lower, wanting—needing—to taste her. He had to let go of her hands, but he felt enough in control that he thought that would be okay.
He was wrong.
She tasted better than anything he’d ever tasted before. He couldn’t get enough. His tongue flicked over her and then his entire mouth ate at her most intimate flesh until she shoved her hands in his hair and held his head to her body as her hips thrust upward against him.
She rocked against him again and again and then called out his name as her orgasm rolled through her.
He lifted his head and looked up her body. Her head was thrown back and her chest was heaving, her nipples tight little buds. Her hips were still rocking slightly, and he knew he’d never forget how she looked right now. He moved up her body, letting his chest brush over her mound and then her stomach and her breasts. He braced his weight with his hands on either side of her shoulders. She opened her eyes, looking up at him with that silvery gaze of hers, but up close her eyes were silvery gray.
“Well, hello there,” she said.
“Hi.”
She twined her arms around his shoulders and leaned up to whisper directly into his ear. “Are you going to take me now?”
His hips moved against her, the tip of his erection finding her opening. He met her eyes and leaned down to kiss her, letting her taste herself on his lips.
“Yes,” he said against her mouth as he drew back his hips and drove himself deep inside her.
She was tight when he entered her, and he waited to let her adjust to his size. She wrapped her legs around his waist and lifted her upper body so that her hard nipples brushed against his chest each time he drove into her. He wanted her passion to build to climax again, but now that he was inside her, it was the same as being strapped into the cockpit of his race car—there was no stopping him. The light had flashed green for go, and he had one objective in mind.
He rode her hard, driving into her again and again, and as he felt the sensation running down his back that meant he was closer and closer to his orgasm, he reached between their bodies, flicking at her clit to help her along. She arched under him, her nails digging into his shoulders.
“Inigo,” she cried.
The sound of his name on her lips triggered his orgasm and he started to come, thrusting into her until he was empty and drained. She arched against him repeatedly, and when they were both still, he rolled to his side, lying on his back next to her.
The air in the room was cool compared to the heat of her body next to his. He already wanted to be back inside her. He turned his head on the bed and found she was looking at him.
“Was that slow enough for you?” he asked teasingly.
“Yes, speedy. You were just right,” she said, rolling close to kiss him. “Want to join me in the shower?”
She trotted toward the bathroom, and he just lay there staring at the ceiling. His mother always said that fate brought people into his path when they were meant to be there. And he was struggling right now not to make this more than a New Year’s Eve hookup.
Honestly, that was all he had time for, but something about Marielle made him feel lighter, made him feel…stronger. Like he could conquer anything.
It could be because it had been more than a year since he’d gotten laid, but he wasn’t convinced.
“Are you coming?” she asked, leaning around the door frame from the bathroom.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, jumping off the bed and heading toward her.
It seemed like it might be her and not just sex. But then, one night wasn’t going to change his life. His mom might be a big believer in fate, but he’d never seen its proof in his life.
He showered with Marielle, taking his time to wash her, making sure he explored all the places on her body that he might have missed when he’d made love to her earlier. They did it again in the shower and then dried off and curled up in the big king-size bed in the guesthouse. He held her in his arms as she slept and watched her. Tomorrow everything would be different. The holidays weren’t officially over until January 2, but he had a session at the simulation track and if this was going to be the year he unseated the current champion, then this night was all he’d have with her.
He watched the clock and held her, pretending for a moment that things were different, but as much as he enjoyed having her in his arms, he knew that he wanted something more from life. He wanted the title of champion, and these emotions she stirred in him would distract him from his goal. Something he couldn’t allow.
Besides, if they were really fated to be together, then she’d come back into his life at another time.
He drifted off to sleep just before dawn and only woke when his alarm went off at ten in the morning. Marielle rolled over and looked up at him from under tousled hair. “Why is your alarm going off?”
“I have a family breakfast. Do you want to come with me and meet the gang?” he asked. “Scarlet will be there.”
“Yes, I think I would. I better dash out to my car and grab my overnight bag so I have something to wear other than last night’s dress,” she said.
“Why do you have an overnight bag in your car?” he asked.
“Just in case. I liked to be prepared. If I get too tipsy to drive, I can always stay at Scarlet’s,” she said as she got out of bed and stretched before pulling on her dress.
“I like that dress,” he said.
“I do too, but it’s really better for nighttime,” she said.
“Agreed. Which car is yours? I’ll get your bag,” he said. She told him, and he went out to retrieve it.
They got dressed together, which was fun. He wanted her again, but he didn’t want to give in to the craving, so he forced himself to make do with a kiss and held her hand as they walked to the main house. But as they entered the house, they didn’t exactly receive the warmest of greetings.
“Oh my God. Who invited her?” Bianca said, standing up from her seat as they entered the enormous living area. There was anger in her voice. Inigo wasn’t sure who Bianca was referring to at first but noticed she was staring at Marielle.
“What’s going on?” he asked his sister.
“I should be asking you that. What are you doing with Jose’s mistress?”
Three (#ub57a9d35-265d-5a1f-a803-1ec1f7f9745e)
Bianca… Jose’s ex-wife was here? She hadn’t seen the woman in more than five years, and she’d worked hard to put that horrible day out of her mind. The moment she’d discovered her lover Jose was married had been one of the worst in her life. Seeing Bianca now, all the guilt and shame came rushing back. There was something akin to hatred in the pregnant woman’s eyes, and the look on Inigo’s face made it clear he wasn’t too pleased to find out she had this connection to his family.
To be fair, she’d had no idea who Inigo was when she’d slept with him, but now seeing him next to Bianca, she put the pieces together. They were obviously related. And she now vaguely remembered that Jose had mentioned he had a protégé he thought would do great things in Formula One. Was it Inigo?
“I guess I should be going,” she said.
“Yeah, I think that’s a good idea,” Bianca said. “Who even invited you?”
“I’m Scarlet’s friend,” Marielle said.
She knew that the woman had cause to be upset with her, but she wasn’t the only one to blame. Jose had told Marielle he was divorced, and she had been stupid enough to believe him. She soon realized it wasn’t his only lie when she’d caught him in bed with another woman—a woman he’d been seeing for years. She’d felt like a fool, falling in love with another woman’s husband. Seeing Bianca brought back all of those feelings of self-loathing that she’d hoped she’d moved beyond.
“Scarlet’s my sister-in-law,” Bianca replied.
Of course she was. “Honestly, I had no idea that you would be here. That part of my life was over ages ago, and I’m not proud of my role in what was going on in your marriage.”
More people were entering the room, including Inigo’s parents, and then Scarlet and her assistant, Billi Sampson, came in. Marielle looked at her friend, who was visibly pregnant and still looked very sleepy.
“Scarlet, thank you for inviting me last night. I’m afraid I have to run this morning, but I’ll be in touch later,” Marielle said, walking out of the room.
Inigo didn’t try to follow her, which was probably for the best. He had been fun last night, just what she needed to distract her from her own problems. But obviously neither of them had intended for it to be the beginning of a relationship.
Yeah, right.
But she knew that it was over. There was no way she could have any kind of relationship—not that she was looking for one—with the brother of the woman whose husband she’d slept with.
Ugh.
Her mom was always going on about reaping what she sowed, and damn, this was a pretty rotten crop to reap. But this trouble was of her own making. When she thought back to the woman she’d been when she was twenty-one, she cringed. She’d been so shallow. So into her own pleasure and her own life that she had been unable to see past Jose’s lies to the family that she was hurting. It wasn’t that she was so much wiser at twenty-six, but damn, she was a little smarter when it came to men. Or at least she’d thought she was.
No more hookups with men whose last names I don’t know, she thought. Yeah, let’s make that rule one for the new year.
The engine of her Corvette roared to life. She put the car in Reverse and spun out on the gravel drive as she tried to get away from the house and all the people inside it. But there wasn’t a car that had rolled off the assembly line that would go fast enough to take her away from herself.
She had that way of doing this more often than she wanted to. She knew it wasn’t her fault—how in the world had she ended up at a party with Jose’s ex-wife? That was never supposed to happen. She’d followed the teachings of a well-being guru, who had advised her to write a letter apologizing. The guru had said that would bring forgiveness from the universe.
Marielle thought she needed a refund, because all she could see as she raced down the road was the look on Bianca’s face as she’d recognized her, and it certainly hadn’t resembled forgiveness.
She pulled into the drive that led to her family’s mansion and slowed the car, fumbling on the visor for the garage door opener. She parked the ’Vette next to her father’s classic Porsche and sat there for a minute, realizing that she was on the edge of tears.
She took a deep breath, fumbling in her purse for her phone and that meditation app that her brother had gifted her for Christmas. She opened it and closed her eyes, listening to the soothing voice and pretending the heat on her cheeks was the sunshine the app’s moderator was talking about and not tears.
But in her heart the truth was strong, and she knew that she hadn’t forgiven herself for those long-ago mistakes. Thank God she hadn’t run into Jose’s son. The little boy his wife had been pregnant with while he’d been telling Marielle that she was his soul mate. If she’d been older…
Or not as dumb, she thought.
This wasn’t working. She dashed her hand over her cheeks and turned off the car, getting out and standing there for a minute. She smelled cigarette smoke and looked up to see her eldest brother, Darian, standing there watching her. “I wasn’t spying, just giving you space.”
“Thanks,” she said, walking over to him and taking the cigarette from his hand, dropping it on the ground and putting it out with the toe of her shoe.
“You’re supposed to be quitting.”
“I know. I didn’t take a drag, I was just holding it,” he said. “What’s up with you?”
“Ran into one of my past mistakes this morning. It’s hitting me harder than I expected,” she said.
“Why? You know you’re not that woman anymore,” he said.
Why?
She shrugged, but Inigo’s face danced through her mind. She’d liked him. He’d been fun, and he’d made her feel like she was enough.
“What were you doing with her?” Bianca asked as she and Inigo watched Marielle drive away.
“She’s the girl…the one I told you about last night,” he said, trying to put together the two images he had in his head. Jose’s mistress had always seemed someone cold and calculating. While he had never seen his brother-in-law with the woman, he had assumed that she’d manipulated Jose into the affair. Jose had been his idol. Inigo had wanted to be Jose when he grew up. But this…
Marielle hadn’t seemed like the type of woman…who would what? he asked himself. Cheat? Have sex with a man? She’d been fun, and he hadn’t thought of anything but the heat between the two of them. He had put it down to a year’s worth of celibacy, but honestly she was hot and sexy and he had wanted her again this morning. Maybe that was what had caused Jose to cheat.
“Her? Couldn’t you have picked anyone else?” Bianca asked.
