Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
It took them longer than Inigo anticipated to leave the club, because he couldn’t keep his hands off her. There was a sort of haze over him right this moment. All he could see was Marielle. Her lips were wet and swollen from his kisses. Damn.
He leaned in to kiss her again. The bouncer held the door for them, and they were caught between the warmth of the club and the snow and sleet falling outside.
Inigo pulled her into his body to protect her from the elements.
She put her hand on the side of his neck, tipping her head slightly, and he knew she wanted to say something, but her lips were too tempting to resist and he kissed her again.
He wasn’t aware of anything but Marielle. He tucked that fact away to examine later, because he knew that she was the first person to bring on that focus he normally reserved for racing.
“Mr. Velasquez,” his driver said, clearing his throat.
He pulled his head from Marielle’s and glanced at the driver, noticing he had opened the door.
He took her hand and pulled her quickly across the sidewalk through the snow toward the waiting Moretti Motors Vallerio sedan.
She slid easily into the back seat, laughing as she sat down and slipped on the leather seats.
He climbed in after her, lifting her off the seat and onto his lap.
She felt chilly from the snow and sleet, and he cuddled her close to him while she ran her fingers through his hair. “You have snowflakes on your eyelashes.”
“Do I?”
“You do,” she said. “Close your eyes.”
He did as she asked and felt the warmth of her breath against his face before she kissed both of his eyes lightly and then settled back onto his lap. “There you go.”
He opened his eyes. Their gazes met, and he felt his pulse start racing again.
He didn’t want to have a quickie in the car.
He wanted to make love to her properly. To take his time with Marielle, because maybe if he got her out of his system he could move on.
No more rude potshots at her and no more lust that he couldn’t control.
He was used to control, and he hated that she made him feel like he had crashed his car and was rolling over and over, like nothing in the world was solid and he was holding on trying to find his center.
With Marielle he was simply holding on to her.
And he felt his grip on her was tenuous at best. He should be scared, but instead he was turned on and excited.
He couldn’t keep his hands off her and she didn’t seem to mind, moving to straddle him on the back seat of the car.
He held her to him as she deepened the kiss and he clutched at her backside, bring her closer to him as he shifted his hips underneath until he could rub the ridge of his hard-on against her center.
She rocked her hips, moving over him with the kind of pressure that made his pants too tight and made him want to just say screw it and take her here and now.
He moved his hand under the hem of her dress and felt the cold skin of her upper thigh.
He rubbed his hand up and down, each time coming closer to touching her center.
It was hot and moist and beckoned him. He remembered how hot they had been for each other the last time.
If it was even possible, it seemed he wanted her even more now.
He felt the pulse in his erection where it was trapped too tightly in his boxer briefs, and when he pulled his mouth from hers, turning his head hopefully to see something that would distract him, he just met her gaze.
That cool gray gaze of hers was hot, like the heat in the cockpit of his car when he was driving. And the excitement he felt as he approached the finish line, this felt like a victory. He had never thought he’d have her in his arms again. But here she was.
He wanted to make this last. Needed to find his much-lauded self-control.
“What are you thinking?”
“Don’t come in the car,” he said without thinking.
She threw her head back and laughed. “Damn, speedy. I was thinking, I hope he comes in the car.”
“Marielle, darling, you are pushing me to the very edge of my control,” he admitted, burying his face in the crook of her neck.
Which was a big old mistake, because she smelled so good. How could perfume be sexy? On her it was.
“Well, then, I’ll have to see what I can do to push you past it. I want to see you when you aren’t thinking and analyzing everything,” she said.
“I’m not sure that’s a smart idea,” he said.
“I thought we’d decided this wasn’t our most intelligent decision,” she said, shifting on him to run her finger down the side of his jaw to his mouth. She drew her finger over his lips, and he felt it as if she were caressing his groin.
He groaned and shook his head, sucking her finger into his mouth. He needed to take charge but every time he did, he saw the finish line and he wanted... Marielle and this entire night to last as long as it could.
The car pulled to a stop, and he glanced out the window. They were at his place.
“We forgot to give the driver your address,” he said.
“That’s okay. We had a nice ride.”
The door opened, and a rush of cold air came in, doing nothing to cool him down as he got out and reached back to offer his hand to her.
He nodded to the driver, and as Marielle stepped out, Inigo scooped her up in his arms, carrying her toward his building.
She wrapped her arms around him, and he lowered his head to kiss her as he stepped into the lobby.
Inigo had never been much of a playboy when it came to women. He liked women and had been on his fair share of dates, but driving was the focus of his life, and no woman had ever held a candle to the rush he got when he was behind the wheel.
His brother had commented that maybe he hadn’t met the right woman, and for the first time Inigo understood where Mo had been coming from.
Marielle was different; everything with her was more pronounced.
When he kissed her, he felt a jolt that was beyond just sexual and maybe.
..maybe that’s why he’d been trying to justify being with her.
Trying to make it into some sort of revenge scheme so he wouldn’t have to admit that she did something to him that no other woman ever had.
Keke and Marco had been circumspect, but Dante hadn’t been as nice. He had warned Inigo that it was one thing to get his rocks off with a hot chick but another to have his bosses discussing it. He knew Dante’s career was tied to Inigo’s winning as well.
Everyone on the team had a vested interest in him winning. So he couldn’t let sleeping with her be a distraction.
She wrapped one leg around his thigh as she put her hands in his hair and deepened the kiss. He groaned. He could give himself all the mental warnings he wanted to, but there was no way he was walking away from her tonight.
He couldn’t.
He wasn’t even tempted to, if he were being completely honest with himself. He carried her down the hall to his apartment and then lifted his head from the kiss, shifting her in his arms and setting her on her feet next to the door.
He used his thumbprint to unlock the door and opened it, stepping aside and gesturing for her to precede him into his place.
She stepped into the foyer of his apartment, and he reached around her to flick on the lights. He closed the door behind them and watched her as she kicked off her heels and slowly walked down the marble-tiled floor toward the living room.
She stood at the base of the curving staircase, her hand on the mahogany railing, her head tossed back. “I like your place, speedy. Is your bedroom up here?”
His throat felt tight as he closed the distance between them, remembering the feel of her body pressed against his in the club.
He wanted her. Maybe more than he wanted to win at Melbourne, which should have jarred him, but for tonight he ignored it.
Tomorrow he had to get this attraction for her under control but for tonight.
..nothing mattered except this feeling and this moment.
She crooked her finger at him, and he groaned as he slowly moved up the stairs toward the landing.
Her thick blond hair fell around her shoulders, and the thin slip dress she wore clung to her curves as she reached behind her and drew the zipper down.
He stood beneath her on the stairs watching as she lowered it and her skin was revealed.
She had a small tattoo on her left shoulder that he hadn’t noticed the first time they’d been together.
He took the steps two at a time to catch up with her.
Wrapping his hand around her waist, he pulled her back against him and used his teeth to pull the thin spaghetti strap down her arm.
He could see the design of her tattoo more clearly now.
It was a serpent wrapped around an apple that had a big bite taken out of it.
He traced it with his finger. “What does this mean to you?”
She shook her head, her long blond hair brushing against the backs of his fingers. “Sinner. Mostly I got it to annoy my mom, but I also knew that I couldn’t keep pretending to be something I wasn’t.”
Sinner. The word echoed in his mind and shook him. Was she as blasé about the affair with Jose as she’d seemed? Or had it cut her deeper?
He stopped thinking about that. He drew his hand down her shoulder blade; her skin was soft and smooth. He felt her shiver under his caress, and she shifted around to face him. As she did so, the dress fell farther down, revealing the curve of her nipped-in waist.
He lifted her off her feet again and carried her down the hall to his bedroom. He hit the light switch with his elbow as he entered and put her on her feet in front of the king-size bed. She smiled up at him.
“What’s got your engine roaring?”
He groaned. “Really?”
“I like a good pun,” she said with a wink.
“That’s not a—”