Chapter 25
ALARIC
Asweet, minty flavor punctuated with a hint of lime infiltrates my senses as I kiss Evangeline for the first time. Fingers digging into her hair, I move her until she’s where I want her. I’m eager. Desperate. Practically starved for this woman.
I’ve never craved someone like this. I’ve also never been so sure about anything in my life. As a man who loves statistics and certainty, that in and of itself is a remarkable feat.
I kiss her deeply, my tongue stroking hers, taking my time learning her rhythm. Focusing on her reactions, noting what she likes. Noting what drives her wild. Cataloging all the ways I can please her.
Thankfully, I’m a quick study.
When I dip my tongue into her mouth and tease the tip against hers with a little flick, she moans.
When I catch her pouty bottom lip between my teeth and tug, she rolls her hips forward, unabashedly demanding more.
I move her away from the panel of godforsaken elevator buttons and press her against the opposite wall. With my arms framed around her face, I kiss down her jaw, then suck lightly on her neck.
She mewls in response, spurring me on.
Boldly, I dip lower, dragging my tongue through the top of her cleavage. Then I paint more kisses on the hollow of her throat.
“Alaric,” she breathes, chest heaving.
She’s got phenomenal tits. They’re pillowy and full, straining against the fabric of her dress, begging me to set them free and give them the attention they deserve.
I push the thought away. I can’t focus on them right now. Because I want to kiss her again. I want to kiss her until her lips are puffy and swollen and my mind is completely clear.
Because that’s what she does to me.
Evangeline presses her lips to mine, and the world around us falls away. There’s lightness and there’s space; there’s ease and limitless possibility.
I don’t care that this is wrong.
I don’t care that this could ruin me.
I don’t care, I don’t care, I don’t care.
I spend so much time in my own head, considering every move and strategizing every second. Every day I worry about reputations and results. I’m all about the optics, laser focused on changing public opinion, determined to change the minds of the people who would love to see me fail.
I don’t ever have the luxury of not caring.
Except… with Evangeline’s sweet lips moving in tandem with mine, all my cares melt away. My mind is clear and singularly focused on her. My one and only concern is the woman in my arms.
“Wait, Alaric. Stop.”
Heart lurching, I do just that, pulling away a few inches. “Stop?”
“Yes.” She tugs the back of my head so we’re eye to eye. “Stop. We can’t. I—” Her voice cracks, regret puncturing the moment. “I don’t want to get carried away.”
Carried away?
I’m already so far gone I can’t think straight.
Swallowing hard and fighting like hell to catch my breath, I crane back and take her in.
By the way she’s eye-fucking me, painted nails brushing over her swollen lips, she’s not telling me to stop because she doesn’t want this to go any farther.
She’s telling me to stop because she thinks it’s for the best. Because she’s concerned about the optics and the fallout.
The thoughts that fled from my mind have clearly set up camp in hers.
She’s thinking about her reputation. My reputation.
My role, both as her superior and as her ex-boyfriend’s father.
“I’m sorry.” I inhale deeply, my lungs desperate for air.
She lingers in my space, polished fingernails tracing along my jaw and raking through the stubble on my face. “I’m not,” she whispers, her lips inches from mine once more.
It takes everything in me not to capture her mouth in another kiss.
“But we’re in an elevator, and the entire paddock is downstairs in the ballroom,” she reminds me. “I—I don’t want to stop, but I’m afraid if things go any farther, we might do something we regret.”
As much as it pains me to admit, she’s right. I refuse to contribute to her anxiety, and it would kill me if her reputation were tarnished because she was caught alone in an elevator with her team principal.
The team principal, worth noting, who recently took over after the last one was caught soliciting subordinates for sexual favors in exchange for career opportunities.
Fighting back a growl, I run one hand through my hair, no doubt messing up the slicked-back style. Fuck it. I’m not going back down to the party. I’m too pent up, and I’m still livid, even if she won’t tell me what went on between her and my son.
I’m tempted to press her on the issue once more.
Thankfully, logic prevails. I’d rather not bring up a subject that may upset her. Or remind her of one of the many obstacles keeping us from acting on our mutual attraction.
Defeated, I place one hand on her hip to steady her, then reengage the elevator and press the 24 button. The car lurches, causing her to stumble. On instinct, I wrap her in my arms, holding her close.
The whole way up to the top floor, I stare into her eyes, mesmerized by the little flecks of gold along the edges of her blue irises.
She holds my gaze, silent confirmation radiating off her as she licks her lips and emits a quiet, defeated sigh.
I want to kiss her again.
Need to in a way that feels both carnal and essential. But we can’t. At least not here.
Instead of acting on instinct, I nudge my nose against hers. “I’ll walk you to your room.”
She raises her eyebrows in challenge. “That won’t be necessary.”
Her defiance delights me. She has no problem articulating what she wants—or in this case, what she doesn’t want. I can only imagine how her directness would present in the bedroom.
Nope. Not going to think about that right now.
She asked me to stop, so I’ll be damned if I lead either of us back into temptation tonight.
As the number above the door moves from 19 to 20, I drop my arms. Then, with a heavy sigh, I shift to the opposite side of the car, putting a safe, respectable distance between us.
When the doors open on the twenty-fourth floor, I extend one arm and usher her out with the other.
Half a dozen steps down the hall, she glances over her shoulder. “I said I was fine. You don’t need to follow me to my room.”
“About that…”
After Japan, I sent a request that Evangeline’s lodging be prioritized when possible.
I submitted the memo as an accommodations need, citing the benefits of a full kitchen and a bathroom with soaking tub.
Knowing that she’s working, even on her days off, and that she often prepares her own food, it was a fair ask.
I’m the boss, so no one questioned the request. Plus Leslie knows that Evangeline used to date Luca, so it isn’t that out of the ordinary for me to know a little more about her than I would the average employee.
What I didn’t entirely think through is that Granata books good accommodations for all our personnel. Every employee gets their own room, and we always opt for high-end hotels.
So my request essentially bumped Evangeline to the management tier. A.k.a. suites and penthouses. That puts the two of us in the same room category here in Spain and probably at many of the future races as well.
I should have anticipated us being on the same floor, or even in the same wing.
But I didn’t. Just like I failed to anticipate us sharing a wall.
And it’s not just any wall. It’s a wall with a set of doors that connect our rooms together.
With an apologetic wince, I stroll past her door and stop at mine, holding up my room key.
Before I can justify the situation so it looks less like obsessive behavior, Evangeline snorts, then giggles.
“Really, Ric?”
My breath catches in response to the nickname.
I much prefer hearing my full name on her lips. But right now, I’m just grateful she isn’t calling the local authorities and declaring that she has a stalker.
“I swear I didn’t plan this,” I assure her.
She studies me, still standing at her door. She hasn’t scanned her room key.
Even now, under the harsh hotel hallway lights, after I’ve slightly displaced her dress and messed up her hair, she’s so breathtakingly beautiful.
I can’t help myself.
I backtrack, only stopping when I’m at her side.
Licking my lips, I cup her face and tip her head back so she meets my gaze. She leans into my palm with a contented breath.
“Do you want to come in?” I choke out.
I’m so out of my depth here. My confidence is shaky, my resolve all but nonexistent.
The tension between us is enough to drive me out of my mind. This connection we share isn’t going away. Inevitable bliss or insurmountable disappointment await. I hate not being in control. I despise not knowing how this will all play out.
Evangeline’s answering sigh is laced with defeat, signaling that no, at least for tonight, disappointment prevails.
“Do I want to come into the hotel room of the team principal of the team I work for, after his son accused me—in the middle of a huge event, mind you—of fucking his dad to get this job?”
Rage ignites in my veins.
That’s what the interaction was about?
She lifts one finger to her cheek, the shiny red polish a bright pop of color against her pale skin, and taps it a few times, humming. “Let me think…”
Shaking my head, I fight back the urge to stalk right back down to the ballroom and drag Luca of out of the party by the collar. I’m not upset with Evangeline. On the contrary. Now that I’m aware of the extent of my son’s vile behavior, I’m in even deeper awe of how she handled herself tonight.
I imagine it means she’s exhausted or emotionally drained. Or both.
Dammit.
Switching gears, I stroke her cheek. “I’m sorry he hurt you. Again.”
Her sarcastic front slips away, and once again, she leans into my touch, confirming she needs to be handled with care. I can do soft and soothing. It’s an honor to be what she needs.
Eyes closed, she shakes her head slightly, causing her dangling earrings to swing. “Sadly, I’m used to it where Luca is concerned.”
My rage returns in earnest, though I force my stance to remain relaxed and work overtime not to intensify my grip on her face. My son’s behavior is both astounding and disgusting.
No one should be used to being hurt like that. What sort of bullshit relationship did they share? I’m angry for her, but I’m even more pissed at myself for raising such an emotionally incompetent man.
I don’t know how else to help. Talking to Luca clearly didn’t change anything. While I implored him to reach out, to make things right, he chose to humiliate her. Again.
He’s done. He’s lost the right to be anywhere near her. I’ll bar him from all access to Granata and confirm we aren’t sharing hotels with Waytrek for the rest of the season. I’ll make Leslie rebook one hundred and ten rooms in every country if I have to.
It’s the least I can do to ensure Evangeline is emotionally safe.
I won’t bring him up again or push either her or my son to reach out. Based on what happened tonight, it’s clear they’re far past any potential reconciliation.
Good.
I’m far past caring about what could happen if Luca discovered I was interested in pursuing this woman.
Scratch that.
I’m not interested in pursuing this woman.
I am pursuing her. In earnest. I’m hopelessly, doggedly, wholeheartedly serious about making her mine.
I can’t undo the damage Luca has done. But I can make things up to Evangeline by showing her the respect, adoration, and care she deserves. Starting now.
“Sleep,” I tell her. “You have my number. Text or knock if you need anything.”
I scan the hall, confirming we’re still alone, then angle in and plant a featherlight kiss on her forehead. “Good night, angel.”
With that I turn and walk away before my willpower wanes.