Chapter Eleven
Monaco
MILLIE AND TAZ left Italy and arrived in Monaco the day after the race at Imola.
Instead of flying, Taz bundled her into what she thought was a Bugatti (her knowledge about cars was abysmal) and they drove from Imola to Monaco.
As they entered the heart of Monaco six hours later, Millie made a concerted effort to keep her excitement from showing on her face.
It was the week leading up to the Grand Prix, and the city buzzed with anticipation and energy.
The bright blue Mediterranean shimmered under the sun, and the luxury yachts in the harbour gleamed.
Locals and tourists alike were caught up in the excitement.
Cafés were crowded and lively conversation punctuated the warm air.
High heels clicked against the cobblestone streets.
The city was a mix of sophistication and chaos, a place where the race was as much a reason for the world’s rich and beautiful to gather as it was a sporting spectacle. Monaco gleamed. And preened.
Millie noticed people pointing their phones at them and heard the buzz of excitement when gearheads and Formula One fans recognised Taz. They stopped at a traffic light, and the car was quickly surrounded by fans and paparazzi. Taz was mobbed by requests for selfies and autographs.
Taz leaned across to her, and on the pretence of kissing her cheek, murmured in her ear. ‘I’ve got to get you and this car off the street, or else we’re going to be mobbed.’
Millie nodded her agreement, and when the light turned green Taz revved the engine and inched forward. The crowd parted and they roared away, and a few blocks later reached their hotel.
Because Taz was Taz and a global sensation, they were whisked up to his penthouse suite with a minimum of fuss.
The panoramic views of the Mediterranean and the iconic skyline immediately captured Millie’s attention.
The penthouse was extensive, open and airy, its furnishings sleek and modern.
An infinity pool ran the length of the suite, and Millie didn’t need to explore to know that it would include a huge bedroom with an oversize bed, a bathroom that could accommodate thirty people and, possibly, a private gym.
Millie stretched, her eyes on the breath-stealing view. It was after two, and since they’d stopped for lunch along the way, they needed to get some work done today. She’d lost time yesterday, and her to-do list was as long as the circuit snaking through the city.
‘Are you going to head down to the track?’ she asked Taz, who’d walked over to stand next to her.
Instead of looking at the view, his eyes were on her face.
‘Why are you looking at me like that?’ she asked, a little self-conscious at his intense stare.
‘Why aren’t you admiring the view? It’s stunning. ’
‘Because you are far more interesting,’ he told her, his voice becoming a little deeper, a tad richer. Gruffer. ‘I have an appointment with the team doctor in an hour, and the stylist is coming here with a selection of dresses for you to wear to the ball tomorrow night.’
It was the last event she’d agreed to attend as his fake girlfriend, and the most high-profile. Millie wrinkled her nose. ‘Why can’t he choose one? I’ve got so much to do,’ she complained.
‘You need to choose.’ Taz placed his hand on her hip and pulled her closer. ‘But since we both have an hour…’
His lips hit the spot on her neck where she was most sensitive, and she could feel him growing harder against her stomach.
She didn’t have time for this, she had about a hundred emails she needed to respond to and calls to return.
But Taz’s lips on her skin felt like heaven, and when he moved his mouth up her neck, across her jaw and onto hers, she sighed.
She’d work harder later. Making love to Taz was all that was important right now…
‘Millie…’
His mouth claimed hers with unapologetic hunger, bypassing tenderness and heading straight into a kiss that was ferocious, desperate.
His tongue invaded, retreated, then plunged back in, a reckless rhythm that left her breathless.
He was a fine wine and dark chocolate, a jolt of adrenaline and a dizzying fall.
Millie melted into his heat, craving more than his kisses.
She pressed her hips into his, her sigh mingling with his low groan. Yes. More. Of everything he could give her. Work could wait.
But Taz stepped back, his hands the only tether between them as they traced the line of her jaw, his expression fierce yet controlled. ‘Why did you stop?’ The question slipped out before she realised she’d spoken.
His voice was rough, strained. ‘Because I don’t want it to be over too fast. I want more for you than fast.’
Her laugh was breathy, laced with need. ‘I don’t mind fast.’
Taz shook his head, the corner of his mouth quirking into a wicked smile. ‘Not this time, Mils.’
His shortening her name softened her. It made her feel claimed and cherished.
Dangerous thoughts. This wasn’t love—it couldn’t be.
But when he bent and swept her into his arms, carrying her with effortless strength, the lines between what was possible and what was not, between sex and love, blurred.
In the bedroom, decorated in soft sea-greens and whites, he set her down in front of a tall, free-standing mirror.
Moving to stand behind her, with a sexy combination of need and simmering restraint, he met her eyes in the glass.
His hands came to rest on her shoulders, his touch scorching her skin through the fabric of her shirt.
‘Your only job is to watch me,’ he commanded softly, his voice like smoke and silk.
With aching slowness, from behind her he undid the buttons of her shirt, revealing her skin inch by inch.
His hands traced her collarbone and slid the fabric from her arms, and she shivered as her lace bra came into view.
He kissed the curve of her neck, cupped her breasts and kneaded them with reverence and complete focus.
Her nipples pebbled under his touch, and her breath caught.
‘Look at yourself,’ he murmured, voice roughened by desire. ‘See how beautiful you are. You’re luscious, Millie. Bold and bright.’
‘No, I’m just—’
‘Just gorgeous, and so sexy you make me dizzy,’ he muttered, in his sex-and-sandpaper voice. He shook her lightly. ‘Look at yourself. See what I see.’
Her reflection in the mirror shocked her.
A sexy woman, one she barely recognised, stared back at her with flushed cheeks and eyes dark with desire.
She was luminous and vibrant. Someone who could, and should, be confident in her own skin, in what she could offer the world.
In what she could offer him. Maybe it was time to start seeing herself differently, to break the habit of putting herself down.
Taz’s hands left her breasts to unclasp her bra, the straps falling away like ribbons, baring her completely.
Her breath hitched as he slid a hand beneath the waistband of her shorts, the other hand caressing her spine. ‘God, Millie,’ he rasped, voice hoarse with need. ‘You’re stunning. I can’t wait to be inside you.’
Swept away with the raw intensity in his voice, her inhibitions dissolved. Millie hastily shed her clothes and stood between him and the mirror, clothed in nothing but heat and hunger. Taz moved to kneel, his shoulders pushing her thighs apart, and she gasped. Too much. Too intimate.
‘Trust me,’ he whispered.
She did. He kissed her there, where no one but him had kissed her, with such tenderness, such raw intensity.
Sparkling sensations rolled over her, pulling her under, scattering her thoughts like wedding confetti.
His mouth painted magic over her skin, his fingers teased, and when her climax hit, it was an obliteration, a release that left her trembling and weightless. Transformed.
Taz pulled back, his face flushed, his chest heaving as he gazed at her with reverent satisfaction, pleased by her response, utterly confident in his skill.
He stood, a towering figure of strength and passion, and she held out her hand, lacing her fingers with his. ‘Now, Taz,’ she whispered. ‘Make love to me.’
And when he kissed her again, slow and consuming, Millie wondered if this was love, if Taz was the man she’d hand her heart to. What would he do with it if she did?
Would he cherish it or crush it?
But as long as he kept kissing her like this, she didn’t really care.