Chapter 19
NINETEEN
HEAL HIMSELF
Beth
James dragged his jeans over his fine backside then joined me on the couch. I’d wrapped the sheet around my body, too lazy to dress. He’d retrieved our bags from the car, and I’d grab my pretty summer dress when I got my strength back.
“Is it weird to thank you for that?” He took a lock of my hair. Ran it between his thumb and finger. Frowned at it then tucked it behind my ear.
Too cute.
“Only if I get to thank you right back.”
“I was okay?”
“God, yes!”
James gave a short, happy laugh, then he fitted his mouth to mine and gave me a long, drugging kiss. This guy was going to be the death of me.
“Jump up. Dress. I have something to show you. A surprise you’re going to love.” He bounded up again, full of energy, excitement dancing in his bright eyes.
“Can’t we just stay here? Do more of that?”
“No to the former, yes to the latter. Hell, yes. But in a different location. Fair warning, you might change your mind when you’ve seen what I want to show you.”
He looked so joyful, a swagger in his step now, and it filled me with delight. I giggled, like I hadn’t done since being a child, and I got myself ready for his surprise with a sweetness I’d never known singing in my veins.
James led me around the east side of the house, to a wide, low building, half concealed by a slope. A smooth road ran from it, disappearing into the woods.
Six garage doors lined the front of the building. I halted and stared.
“This is your garage?”
James produced a device from his pocket and pressed a button. With a well-oiled roll, the nearest garage door lifted. “My father’s collection. Mine, I guess. Soon.”
Cars. He owned a collection of cars.
“You have to be kidding me.” Dragging on his hand, I ducked under the door. The last of the sun’s rays painted the cement floor and, overhead, the garage lights had already started to flicker to life, revealing row after row of beautiful, luxury cars.
My breath came in a shuddering inhale. The smell of fuel hung in the air. Metal polish and grease.
I pointed, gaze flitting from gleaming fender to immaculate paintwork. “That’s an Aston Martin. A DB5—the James Bond car. And there, look!” I nearly fell over my own feet, dancing towards a neat red sportscar. “A Ferrari Spider? It’s gorgeous.”
Behind it, a yellow Lamborghini lurked, and I cackled with glee, running my hand over the bonnet, an inch above the paintwork so as not to mark it with my fingerprints.
“I can’t believe you have this. Grandad would love it here.”
“That’s who you get it from, your love of driving.”
Not a question, but I gave a short nod in agreement.
“Tell me about him. You said he was a mechanic.”
All of a sudden, I was a little girl again, walking through a car exhibition with my grandfather. Or on an occasional late-night jaunt. His passion for cars had bled into me through the generations, and the memory almost hurt.
“Amongst other things. I look like him. We share a love for cars.”
Grandad could make any engine sing, and his two-bay garage had never been short of customers, but he took pure and honest delight from the open road.
He stole cars for the sheer joy of driving fast and free. Alongside making a fast buck.
Not that I’d tell James that. Ever.
We continued down the walkway. Half the cars, I had no clue what they were, until I circled them and found the name and model. All I knew was I wanted to get behind the wheel of each. Mattie’s Audi Roadster had been the highlight of my driving experience, and this collection took the biscuit.
“Can you feel that kick, Lil Bit? The roar?” Lil Bit, Grandad’s abbreviation of Elizabeth, my full name, came back to me in a thud of memory.
He’d have his big eyes all over this garage, and be speculating about horsepower and carbines, trying out the car lift so he could get under one or two of the engines.
If he hadn’t died, I was sure I’d have been a grease monkey, and probably have worked for him.
Or gone to jail. But the addiction was in me.
The burn in my veins. Aside from the one time I’d made my epic mistake, I simply loved to be behind the wheel.
Just like James’s dad must have.
Huh. Maybe we had more in common than I thought.
My quivering delight muted, and I turned on slow feet back to James. He watched me, caution mixed with anticipation in his gaze. The way he looked at me drove all nostalgia from out of my head.
He hated being in here. He’d done it for me.
“You contacted me to talk about test drives and safe engines. Yet you had all this here. Why not take one of these cars instead of buying your own?” I knew the answer but wanted to give him the chance to talk. If he could.
“I don’t consider them mine.” His unhurried perusal continued.
“What are you going to do with them?”
“I’m not sure.”
“If you won’t drive them, why not show them?
Open this as a tourist attraction. People will love it.
You could run rallies, and people will drive their own pride and joy cars here to take part.
” How awesome that would be. Just like the rallies Grandad used to take me to.
We’d drive for hours to go see car collections.
Rallies were even better, with a festival atmosphere, and camping. The only real holidays I ever had.
It was the reason I’d chosen the degree in mechanical engineering—to be able to work in restoring cars, maybe even in a museum.
James acknowledged the idea with a slight smile, a tiny movement at the side of his mouth. “Which would you drive, if you could?”
“Can I?”
“Drive them? Yes.”
Sweet baby Jesus. “Now?”
A small headshake, his gaze unwavering. Heat wound through me at the intensity.
“We’ll be late to dinner. Tomorrow, you can have at any car you like. All are well-maintained, and we can take them out onto the estate. Dad designed a route through the forest and around the top lake. I want you to see it all by daylight.”
Good enough. Because something heavy was going on. James’s dad had crashed the car that killed him and his wife. Badly injured James. Left two little orphans.
I’d bet good money James hadn’t stepped foot in this garage since that day.
He was trying to heal himself.
My gut crunched, and I raised my hand. Then stepped into James’s space. With my fingertips, I gently pushed him back a step. Another. Until his legs met the nearest car, a large, carriage-style vehicle, like Al Capone would’ve driven.
“Then that’s what I’ll do. But only if you’re in the car with me. Will you let me drive you?” My heart was in my mouth, waiting on his answer.
“Maybe. I want to. Fuck. Yes.”
James’s hands took my hips, and in a flash, I was in his arms, spun around, and my backside pressed against the door of the old, green car. His gaze turned calculating, his grip strong and he leaned forwards, forcing me to rest back, the window cold under my shoulder blades.
“Oh no,” I uttered, my eyes wide even as I wound my legs around his waist. “We’re not having sex against a vintage—”
His lips crashed down on mine.
Breathless, I fought to own the kiss, my mouth opening when his tongue demanded entry. We tangled and warred. This was no gentle exploration. James needed me, badly.
And I needed him.
Forgetting my concern about the aged metal at my back, I grasped for his belt buckle.
My dress made for easy access now.
Without breaking our kiss, James ran his hand under my skirt, up my bare legs, then hooked his finger through the side of my underwear. With some wrangling, he dragged them off, right after I finished my tussle with his belt and popped his button open.
The car creaked in protest at our jostling.
Rougher by far than when we’d had sex an hour ago, James pinned me to the car with his weight, and I gasped in giddy delight as he used his other hand to free himself.
I ached for him, and I could feel how wet I’d become just from our kiss.
“I don’t care about the car. Any of them. Only you,” he almost growled against my lips and, at my fervent nod, he lined up his cock to my entrance. Then in a single surge, thrust into me.
A long, loud groan sounded in the garage, though which of us made it, I couldn’t say. All I could feel was James around and inside my body. He dropped his head to my shoulder, his breath hot on my skin, and then slammed into me again.
“Give me all of you. Everything,” I breathed.
He began a rhythmic movement, each vital thrust shoving my backside into the polished bodywork. Then he planted his boot on the car’s step, snaking one hand between us, going straight to my clit as he upped the pace.
While he sent me into ecstasy, James kissed me with the same brutal edge that he was showing me with his lovemaking. There was an anger in him, an upset that needed an outlet. Hell, if he wanted to use me like this, I’d happily allow it.
We could try new positions on every vehicle in the garage if it gave him pleasure. Forever, if it helped him work through his issues.
“More,” I urged, running my hands under his sweater, glancing over his scarred side until I reached his spine.
Then I dug my nails into his skin.
James made a masculine noise of pure sexual pleasure, and his stroke stuttered. “Again,” he uttered.
“Harder,” I replied.
He laughed then withdrew and slammed his hard cock into me.
At the same time, he bit down on the juncture of my neck and shoulder.
I screamed, coming, the shock of his teeth on my flesh, though a gentle pressure, sending me over the edge.
My body fell limp, and I spiralled on the most intense orgasm, all while I absorbed his force. Driving me higher, making me delirious.
“God. Beth. Yes,” James chanted and, in a dozen short strokes, the car creaking and groaning, he stilled, his cock pulsing.
In the fading light, I watched his features, torn in the agony/bliss he was working through, and I moaned again, spasming around him.
It was too much. Too good. I knew James was temporary in my life. I knew I had to keep myself from falling. I tried so hard. I couldn’t succeed.
He was too beautiful. A force of nature that I had no chance of containing.
My chest ached where I’d felt too much and there wasn’t the space for it. Too many new sensations I couldn’t name. Some I knew I didn’t want.
This was about more than simply making him happy.
Letting him exorcise demons. The lack of him that I’d felt when I’d been lying in my bedroom, before he’d shown up outside my house, expanded.
Loss enveloped me, though he was still inside me, laying sweet kisses on my throat as we both caught our breaths.
His masculine scent making me high, the words he spoke, of adoration and happiness hurting me with their concealed edges.
I couldn’t fall for James. He wasn’t mine to have.
I was the granddaughter of a car thief, the girl who’d grown up in foster care, while he was raised here with a title and more money than anyone could ever spend. Even if he wanted me, there were too many reasons why we couldn’t work.
Just like I could take out his expensive cars, teach him it was safe to have someone else behind the wheel, it was only for a test drive. I couldn’t keep him, though every fibre of my being demanded I take ownership. Steal him if I had to.
His roughness in making love hadn’t hurt, but when it came time to walk away, James Fitzroy was going to tear me to shreds.