Chapter 25
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Petra regards him with wide brown eyes. “What’s your definition of a long time?” she whispers.
Nico swallows. Honestly, he’s a little shocked by his confession. “Truth or a lie?”
“That’s a stupid question.”
Vale. He started this push lap with her. He has to finish it and see where they end up. “Since the first day we met.”
Petra sits up and stares at him. He can see the gears turning in her mind. “We were fourteen.”
He shrugs. “I’m only fast on the track?”
She blinks. “Nico Belmonte, are you saying you’ve had a crush on me for eleven years?”
“Mm. No. It stopped being a crush long ago.”
Her eyes go wider. She brushes her fingers over his lips and his heart thuds harder. “But… why didn’t you say something?”
He snorts. “I was a skinny insecure boy.” He kisses her fingers. “I did not think I was good enough for you.”
Petra gives this adorable little half-laugh.
“Oh my God, Nico, that’s such bullshit.” She barrels on.
“You’re the nicest guy and, obviously, the best driver, and you care so much for everyone else.
I mean, you’re the four-time world champion.
You could be with any woman you want. Models, actresses, fucking princesses and shit. ”
He scoffs. Dios mío, does she really not see how amazing she is? How beautiful and brilliant and powerful? “I’m not interested in any models or actresses or fucking princesses and shit. Why would I ever look at them when I’ve been watching you all this time?”
Nico has been in awe of Petra Hayter since the first day she showed up at the WolfBett Euro Summer Karting Academy.
They were both fourteen. He was small and skinny and awkward, but already had the attention of sponsors and Formula One teams. He’d been racing in Spain for six years, winning everything he entered, his focus already set on professional racing.
Petra was unlike anyone he’d ever met. The daughter of F1 royalty, even then she was dyeing the tips of her dark hair bright pink, and she sported even more sponsors on her racing suit than he did.
She’d skipped right up to him, offered him a stick of chewing gum, and said, “Let’s race. ”
That’s all it took for Nico to fall hopelessly in love.
Petra looks baffled, an expression he rarely sees on her face. “But I’m just me.” She says it like she’s nothing.
He shakes his head. “Crees que eres un cacharro, pero eres un Ferrari.”
She laughs. “No, I don’t think I’m an old banger, but I definitely don’t feel like a Ferrari.”
He cradles her face then presses his lips to forehead. “You are to me.”
“But Nico…”
“But nothing.” Her wild, messy, sex-dampened hair smells clean and herbal, like lilacs maybe. “You don’t have to feel the same way I do.”
She studies him, dark eyes intense. “I don’t know what I feel.”
“And you don’t need to figure it out now. I know I just dropped something heavy in your lap.”
“Yes, after we had mind-blowing sex.” She rests her head on his chest. “Which is not something I saw coming.”
He snickers at her word choice.
“Nico!”
He laughs but tightens his arms around her, and she laughs too. Her directness shouldn’t surprise him. She lives like she drives: Full throttle. No lifting.
Petra sighs and turns her cheek against him. “I need time to sort my feelings.”
“Vale. Obviously, I have patience.”
She snorts. “That’s something you’ve always had in spades. Though I didn’t realize you were this patient.”
“We were both preoccupied with our careers much of the time.”
She nods and her hair tickles him. Then she peers at him again. “Okay. Me figuring out my feelings aside, there are championships and team politics and about fifty other complications waiting for us in Mexico.”
“Not to mention our extremely enthusiastic fan clubs.”
“God.” She drops her head back to his chest, laughing. “The Honey Bunnies? Really?”
He smirks. “Says the leader of the Hayter Honeys.”
“I didn’t start that.”
“No?” He runs his fingers through her hair, loving how she arches into his touch. “Just encouraged it with all these pink streaks and victory dances.”
“Like you don’t play up the whole El Conejo thing.” She traces his abs and her touch sends sparks down his spine. “The helmet?” Nico’s favorite helmet is painted to resemble a rabbit’s head, whiskers, ears, and all. It’s damn cool.
“The multiplication rate?”
She laughs and sits up, baring her body in a way that makes his breath stutter. “Speaking of fucking rabbits.” She shoves him onto his back and straddles him again.
“Thought you had to fly tomorrow?”
“Thought you were going to show me why they call you El Conejo.”
“Petra.” Her name comes out rough as she rocks against him. “Shouldn’t we discuss those complications?”
“Later.” She bends to kiss his neck and the feel of her breasts and her lips on his skin turns Nico’s thoughts to mush. “We can discuss the teams and the complications later.” Her teeth graze his throat. “Right?”
“Yes. No. Joder...” She palms his cock where it’s pressed between her and his belly, and coherence becomes near impossible. “We should discuss what we’re doing here.”
She sits back, suddenly serious despite their position. “What do you want us to be doing?”
The question carries so much weight.
“I want...” Nico grasps her hips, steadying both her and himself. “I want to race you clean and hard on track. I want to kiss you in parc fermé. And I want to figure out what this is without everyone else’s opinions about what it should be.”
Her smile blooms slow and warm. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” He pulls her down for a kiss. “Also I want more of this mind-blowing sex.”
“Smooth talker.” But she’s already moving against him again. “Show me what else that Spanish charm can do.”
Round three proves even better than the first two.
Maybe because they’ve taken the edge off desperate need.
Nico takes his time exploring Petra’s body, focusing on what makes her squirm, what makes her sigh, and what makes her desperate for more.
When she comes apart under him, hair wild and eyes fierce, he finally understands what people mean about drowning in another person’s desire.
After, she curls against his side and sighs. “We’re going to catch hell for this.” She sounds more amused than worried.
“You are worth braving hell for.” Nico presses a kiss to her temple. “Though your father will kill me if this messes with your racing.”
“No.” Her laugh vibrates against his chest. “He respects you too much. But Kelley will try to make it all about her somehow.”
The mention of her mother changes her. Nico brushes her hair away from her face. “Are you alright with that attention?”
“Hm. Been dealing with Kelley’s drama my whole life.” Her expression turns thoughtful. “This is different though.”
“How?”
She smiles and it softens her in a way he’s always loved. “I don’t know. Whatever this is, it’s ours. Not the paddock’s or the media’s or our teams’ or anyone else’s.”
“Even the Honey Bunnies?”
“We’re never living this down, are we?”
“Probably not.”
She turns her head and studies him. “Be honest. Did you know the photographer was there?”
Nico shakes his head. “I wouldn’t’ve had the cojones to kiss you had I known.”
That makes her laugh. It’s another thing he’s always loved, that wild, sexy laugh of hers. He takes her hand and kisses her fingers. “But I meant what I said about figuring this out.”
“Even with Mexico coming up? Championships on the line?”
“Sí.” He strokes the callused skin on the inside of her thumb, something every driver has from gripping the steering wheel. “Some things are more important than points, Petra.”