His brow furrows. “No, stay.” He swallows a breath. “I really want you to stay.”
I bite my lip, scared by how much I do want to stay with him. I really shouldn’t…but I don’t seem to have it in me to fight my wants versus what’s right in this moment. “Okay.” I smile gently.
Warmth fills his eyes.
I move so he can pull the covers back. I climb inside. He gets in next to me, lying down and facing me. He brushes my hair back from my forehead.
It feels intimate.
I know, with everything we just did, and I say him brushing hair from my face feels intimate, but it just somehow does, so much more than the hot sex.
“I didn’t know you had a tattoo,” I say, trying to change the direction of my thoughts.
“Yeah.”
“When did you get it done?”
“A week after I signed with Formula One. It was my present to myself.”
“Youngest ever driver to sign. I’d have thought you’d have bought a house or something extravagant like that.”
“Buying a house was the last thing on my mind back then.” He smiles.
“Yeah, I guess partying and women were at the forefront.” They still are.
The smile drops from his face, and he looks away. “Something like that. Anyway, I wasn’t the youngest driver. I was the same age as William Wolfe when he signed with Formula One.”
Hearing Carrick say my father’s name jolts me, reminding me why I shouldn’t be here in his bed. My heart starts to pound.
“Hey, you okay?” His fingers touch my cheek.
“Fine.” I force a smile, trying to calm my racing heart. “Can I have a look at your tattoo?” I need him to stop touching me, stop looking at me the way he is. It’s too much.
“Sure.” Carrick rolls onto his stomach, so I straddle his back, sitting on him.
The tattoo is of a fallen angel. A man is bowing down, head lowered, his wings shielding his body. There’s script right above it, spanning the length of his shoulder blades.
PAIN IS TEMPORARY. VICTORY IS FOREVER.
It’s beautiful.
I trace my finger over it. “It’s beautiful, Carrick.” Just like you.
He lifts his head from the pillow and looks back at me, chuckling. “Never tell a man that his tattoo is beautiful, babe. Tell him it’s badass but never beautiful.”
“Sorry.” I laugh. “It’s totally badass.” I put on a gruff voice, trying to sound dude-like. “It’s the most badass-ist tattoo I’ve ever seen.”
“Badass-ist?” He raises a brow.
“It’s a word.” I grin. “Well, in my world it is anyway.”
“You’re crazy.” He laughs, making me smile. Reaching back, he wraps a hand around my wrist and tugs me forward. I fall off his body to the mattress, lying beside him. Lifting up, he pulls me to him and maneuvers me beneath his body. He frames my face in his hands. “But I really, really like Andressa Amaro’s crazy world—a lot.”
My heart and head collide, causing panic to ripple through me, but it’s all swallowed up by his kiss. And the exact moment his tongue slides against mine, everything disappears, except for him.
He kisses me for what seems like forever. Gentle and tender. And I don’t ever want him to stop.
When he finally does stop, lifting his face from mine, he gives me such a look of want that my heart actually aches.
I can’t fall for him. I can’t.
“I should get some sleep if I want to win tomorrow,” he says on a stifled yawn.
“Of course.” My voice trembles. If he notices, he doesn’t say anything.
He reaches over and turns the light off. Then, he pulls me to him. Tucking me into his side, he tangles his legs up with mine. He presses a kiss to my forehead. “Night, babe,” he murmurs, his voice already sounding sleepy.
“Night,” I whisper, my eyes still wide open.
I AWAKE WITH A START. It’s still dark out, but the sun is starting to rise. And there’s a warm solid body wrapped around me.
Carrick.
I’m in his bed.
And we had sex.
Amazing hot sex.
Images flash through my mind of the night before, making me tingle in all the right places. But what also comes with those images and tingles, now that the champagne and sex-crazed hormones have worn off, is a mixture of regret and concern.
I slept with Carrick.
A driver.
I broke my cardinal rule.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
I can’t believe I did that. Well, I can believe it…but you know what I mean.
And worst of all, I’m feeling things I shouldn’t be. Like how amazing his body feels wrapped around mine and the desire to never leave.
Wanting more. Wanting him. Again and again.
Oh God.
I can’t think this way. Not that Carrick would ever want to be with me long-term. He’s a wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am kind of guy. But this is about me, what I’m feeling for him. That’s the problem. I can’t be crushing on him.
And right now, here in his arms, I’m way too comfortable. It’s time for me to go.
Carefully, I slide my leg out from between his. Holding my breath, I wait to make sure that I haven’t woken him. When I’m sure he’s still asleep, I lift his arm and slide out of bed like I’m some kind of ninja.
Staring down at him in the dark, I resist the urge to brush back the hair falling across his forehead.
He’s beautiful.
I bite my lip, scared by how much I do want to stay with him. I really shouldn’t…but I don’t seem to have it in me to fight my wants versus what’s right in this moment. “Okay.” I smile gently.
Warmth fills his eyes.
I move so he can pull the covers back. I climb inside. He gets in next to me, lying down and facing me. He brushes my hair back from my forehead.
It feels intimate.
I know, with everything we just did, and I say him brushing hair from my face feels intimate, but it just somehow does, so much more than the hot sex.
“I didn’t know you had a tattoo,” I say, trying to change the direction of my thoughts.
“Yeah.”
“When did you get it done?”
“A week after I signed with Formula One. It was my present to myself.”
“Youngest ever driver to sign. I’d have thought you’d have bought a house or something extravagant like that.”
“Buying a house was the last thing on my mind back then.” He smiles.
“Yeah, I guess partying and women were at the forefront.” They still are.
The smile drops from his face, and he looks away. “Something like that. Anyway, I wasn’t the youngest driver. I was the same age as William Wolfe when he signed with Formula One.”
Hearing Carrick say my father’s name jolts me, reminding me why I shouldn’t be here in his bed. My heart starts to pound.
“Hey, you okay?” His fingers touch my cheek.
“Fine.” I force a smile, trying to calm my racing heart. “Can I have a look at your tattoo?” I need him to stop touching me, stop looking at me the way he is. It’s too much.
“Sure.” Carrick rolls onto his stomach, so I straddle his back, sitting on him.
The tattoo is of a fallen angel. A man is bowing down, head lowered, his wings shielding his body. There’s script right above it, spanning the length of his shoulder blades.
PAIN IS TEMPORARY. VICTORY IS FOREVER.
It’s beautiful.
I trace my finger over it. “It’s beautiful, Carrick.” Just like you.
He lifts his head from the pillow and looks back at me, chuckling. “Never tell a man that his tattoo is beautiful, babe. Tell him it’s badass but never beautiful.”
“Sorry.” I laugh. “It’s totally badass.” I put on a gruff voice, trying to sound dude-like. “It’s the most badass-ist tattoo I’ve ever seen.”
“Badass-ist?” He raises a brow.
“It’s a word.” I grin. “Well, in my world it is anyway.”
“You’re crazy.” He laughs, making me smile. Reaching back, he wraps a hand around my wrist and tugs me forward. I fall off his body to the mattress, lying beside him. Lifting up, he pulls me to him and maneuvers me beneath his body. He frames my face in his hands. “But I really, really like Andressa Amaro’s crazy world—a lot.”
My heart and head collide, causing panic to ripple through me, but it’s all swallowed up by his kiss. And the exact moment his tongue slides against mine, everything disappears, except for him.
He kisses me for what seems like forever. Gentle and tender. And I don’t ever want him to stop.
When he finally does stop, lifting his face from mine, he gives me such a look of want that my heart actually aches.
I can’t fall for him. I can’t.
“I should get some sleep if I want to win tomorrow,” he says on a stifled yawn.
“Of course.” My voice trembles. If he notices, he doesn’t say anything.
He reaches over and turns the light off. Then, he pulls me to him. Tucking me into his side, he tangles his legs up with mine. He presses a kiss to my forehead. “Night, babe,” he murmurs, his voice already sounding sleepy.
“Night,” I whisper, my eyes still wide open.
I AWAKE WITH A START. It’s still dark out, but the sun is starting to rise. And there’s a warm solid body wrapped around me.
Carrick.
I’m in his bed.
And we had sex.
Amazing hot sex.
Images flash through my mind of the night before, making me tingle in all the right places. But what also comes with those images and tingles, now that the champagne and sex-crazed hormones have worn off, is a mixture of regret and concern.
I slept with Carrick.
A driver.
I broke my cardinal rule.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
I can’t believe I did that. Well, I can believe it…but you know what I mean.
And worst of all, I’m feeling things I shouldn’t be. Like how amazing his body feels wrapped around mine and the desire to never leave.
Wanting more. Wanting him. Again and again.
Oh God.
I can’t think this way. Not that Carrick would ever want to be with me long-term. He’s a wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am kind of guy. But this is about me, what I’m feeling for him. That’s the problem. I can’t be crushing on him.
And right now, here in his arms, I’m way too comfortable. It’s time for me to go.
Carefully, I slide my leg out from between his. Holding my breath, I wait to make sure that I haven’t woken him. When I’m sure he’s still asleep, I lift his arm and slide out of bed like I’m some kind of ninja.
Staring down at him in the dark, I resist the urge to brush back the hair falling across his forehead.
He’s beautiful.
