Chapter Six #2
She stiffly marched through the garage ahead of him. His blasted phone rang. He irritably switched it to mute and shoved it back into his sodden pocket. Ahead of him Lily paused in the corridor. He stepped past, showing the way.
‘What were you thinking?’ She faced him as he closed the door and waved her hand in his direction. ‘You’re soaked through.’
He didn’t give a damn. ‘What was I thinking? You’re the one driving too fast while pregnant!’
Her jaw dropped. ‘It was a trundle around the track, not even at the normal speed limit.’
He couldn’t contain the energy in his body. He’d nearly had a heart attack. ‘You have huge things on your mind—you can’t concentrate enough to drive safely.’ It wasn’t possible. He knew this. Emotions hindered clarity and performance.
‘Of course I can,’ she snapped. ‘It wasn’t fast. I didn’t even need to wear a helmet.’
He stiffened. ‘Is that meant to make me feel better?’
‘You don’t trust the safety features of your own car?’ she asked.
‘Not when it comes to you.’
‘You’re totally overreacting.’
‘Look at the rain!’ he roared.
She paused. He saw the moment she remembered. Of course she knew. Everyone fucking knew his parents had died in a high-speed car crash in the rain. But none of them knew everything. And he didn’t want to see her pity. He was just too angry.
But he couldn’t stop staring at her. Couldn’t stop inhaling every damned aspect of her beauty. Water streamed down her lovely face, down her neck. Her sopping-wet top clung to every curve and straight of her body, revealing her tempting delicacy.
‘You know I would never put my child at risk,’ she said shakily. ‘I can take care of myself.’
‘Really? Have you even had breakfast?’ He’d bet his fortune she hadn’t. ‘Why the hell are you—’
‘Why are you here at all?’ she interrupted fiercely. ‘You don’t usually come to the Singapore race!’
He blinked. He didn’t come because he had a board meeting. One that, for the first time in five years, he’d rescheduled because he’d needed to see her. He was furious about his inability to resist being near her. And how did she even know? ‘What makes you say that?’
Colour mottled her cheeks. She’d bothered to find out somehow. She’d been pleased to believe he wasn’t going to be here. She didn’t want him to be. So the pretty dress she’d worn last night hadn’t been for him. Jealousy billowed through him in an outrageous, unstoppable wave.
‘You can’t be this controlling.’ She furiously glared at him—gold flecks sparkled around those huge dark pupils.
His fury tripled. He’d played it her way last night.
He’d gone against every instinct and left her when she’d asked.
He’d respected her wishes. Why could she not respect his?
Why had she come to work so damned early when he’d told her not to and then driven in conditions like these?
He had every right to be irate. Her repeated rejections of anything he said or offered aggravated him more.
It wasn’t arrogance to know most women would’ve immediately said yes to his proposal.
It was simple maths. The more billions he had in the bank, the more they were interested.
Was she really not interested at all? Had her taunting invitation for him to seduce her been a ploy?
No, that all-access pass hadn’t been offered entirely in anger.
She still wanted him and he would prove it.
He was compelled by irresistible physical need and she was, too.
He could see it now in her jagged breathing, in her tight little nipples tormenting him through that slippery shirt, in her blooming flush.
With a smothered groan he slammed her against the door with his whole body and pressed his lips to hers. Hard.
For a second she was completely still, then she ignited—incandescent—with anger.
All fiery energy, she flung her arms around his neck and pressed just as hard back.
Her lips parted and he stroked deep, but she curled her tongue, too, duelling with him over who claimed who.
Fury kissing. He’d never known it before, never wanted it to end now.
Her hands swept through his wet hair, her fingers tightening, twisting, holding him close to her with passionate anger.
He felt her shudder, then her energy coil.
She jumped the second he knew she would and he caught her, clutching her closer and higher so she wrapped her legs around his hips in an echo of those intimate moments in the air.
Having her back in his hold—open and giving, taking—was everything.
He lost his head. He would strip her, see her, have her.
He wanted to take her entirely into him, to inhale her as if she were everything and all he needed to survive another second.
He was filled with her heat and energy, feeling her beauty, her lush generosity.
This was what he remembered. What he’d dreamt of night after night for the past two damned endless, agonising months.
He’d ached for the way she flared with this exquisite responsiveness—she almost killed him with her fire.
But slowly, the intensity between them altered. Anger lessened. Desire deepened.
He kissed down her neck, desperate to go lower, to lick and suck her breasts, to tease over her stomach and lower still.
To have her utterly naked and his. But he was too busy drowning in the fiery demand of her kisses, her clutching limbs, to even start.
Her moan destroyed him and he pressed her harder against the door, revelling in her supple, strong, silken body.
The noises took a moment to impinge on his searing brain.
She stilled the second he did. He lifted his lips from her and looked into her dazed, gleaming eyes—listening to the voices in the corridor but not hearing a word being said.
Shock chased the slumberous heat from her expression.
He tried to relax his hold on her enough to lower her back to her feet but they were inches away from the satisfaction they both craved, and he almost couldn’t let her go.
Slowing his breathing hurt. Settling the searing ache in his body hurt more.
He felt her shiver uncontrollably—a preamble to the orgasm now too far from her grasp and it was nothing but torture.
‘You need to come back to the hotel,’ he growled.
She leaned against the door and a fresh flush covered her face. Not lust this time; it was shame. He hated it.
‘I told you it wouldn’t make any difference,’ she said.
He’d not kissed her to convince her to agree to anything monumental. He’d just wanted her. He’d needed to feel her strength and vitality.
‘I need to concentrate on work.’ She pulled her wet polo shirt away from her.
He just wanted to rip it right off her. ‘You can’t work this weekend.’
‘Don’t dictate.’ Her eyes flashed.
He clenched his jaw.
‘I’m not abandoning my team. It’s not a home race. They can’t just call up a replacement all that easily. I’m fine to keep working.’ She looked at him accusingly. ‘Until you have the results of the paternity test we’ve not even done, you can’t have any influence over me whatsoever.’
‘I know what the result will be. I know there hasn’t been anyone since me.’
‘How do you know that?’ Colour swarmed into her cheeks all over again. ‘Have you been spying on me somehow? Spent the night trying to dig up dirt?’
‘Am I wrong?’ He spread his hands around her waist, almost amused by her transparency, and knew he was not wrong.
He could feel her trembling, see the embarrassment in her eyes, and the vulnerability tugged the truth from him.
‘You’re the only woman I’ve slept with in ages.
Like you, I’m a workaholic and I like it that way. ’
Her hazel eyes widened but her flush receded, leaving her too pale again. She was so delicately pretty.
‘What about that princess?’ she mumbled.
‘Who?’ He frowned, not comprehending.
‘That princess in Belgium.’
His brain ticked slowly. Celine. The garage tour. ‘You thought? Oh.’ He suppressed his chuckle when he saw her spark. ‘No. No.’
She stared into his face—assessing and untrusting.
‘It’s up to you whether or not you believe me,’ he added softly. ‘But I promise I’ve not slept with anyone since you. There wasn’t anyone for a while before you, either.’
Her anger—jealousy—was quite on display and helped ease the last of his tension from seeing her out there in that damned rain. They might have problems, but they definitely had chemistry, too. Maybe it would help them get through this initial upheaval.
Her teeth pressed on her lower lip. ‘When we get back to England, we have the test done. Meanwhile, we get through the weekend. No one needs to know anything different.’
She was absurdly bothered about people knowing things.
Unfortunately, he’d just hauled her off the track in front of everyone.
He’d not gotten to where he was by waiting around for opportunities to reveal themselves.
He went after them. He made them happen.
He needed to move swiftly before the troubles deepened now.
‘We need to make arrangements sooner than that.’
‘After the race,’ she said. ‘I might be one of fifty mechanics and not the singular oh-so-important CEO of everything, but my work matters to me. Don’t stop me from it. It’s all I have.’
All? He stilled. She really knew how to make him feel like a bastard. What had happened to make work everything in her life? What had she lost for it to have become so all consuming? Because in his very personal experience, an imbalance like this was a result of something missing.
He watched her, knowing it was going to take a while to work out, but he had the resources to restore whatever it was she now lacked.
She wouldn’t suffer more because of this.
Which is why they needed to take the time to talk this through.
But she was never going to respond well to him railroading her.
‘Okay,’ he conceded. ‘Work this weekend but the second the race is over, we talk.’
He would make some arrangements regardless. Having her in his arms again cemented his decision. He’d never wanted a family, he’d never been worthy of a family, but this had happened and honour still mattered.
She nodded. ‘Meanwhile, we keep this quiet.’
That was going to be impossible. ‘There’s no keeping this a secret for long.’ He lightly stroked his palm over her lower belly, unable to resist touching her again. ‘You’re so tiny. It’ll be no time before you start showing.’
He could hardly bear to think of her blooming with their child. It terrified him all over again.
‘Thanks for making me feel self-conscious,’ she murmured, her breathing quickening beneath his hand.
‘Is that what I make you feel?’ He bent closer, drawn by those brown and green and gold flecks, and brushed his lips over hers. With that irresistible stolen touch, he let the secret slip. ‘You scared the hell out of me, Lily. Don’t do it again.’