‘Lily?’ He winced, realising he’d used her name when he shouldn’t know it.
But despite that mistake, she still didn’t answer. He leaned close enough to see her face and saw she’d fallen asleep. Just like that.
He sat back, oddly miffed. Women didn’t fall asleep in his presence. They flicked their hair. They flirted. They scrambled to grasp and hold his attention. And yes, he was spoilt because of it. He was also jaded and untrusting. He avoided social media like the plague. Avoidedanythingsocial like the plague, knowing people wanted anything and everything from him—but notactuallyhim. He only attended work events with elite-level sponsors now—so spending twenty minutesnotbeing sucked up to, not flattered or basically frisked for money, but being treated as an ordinary guy was weird. It hadn’t happened since he was eight years old and finally pulled into the Hearnshawe family fold.
Her manner towards him would change once she knew.Everyonechanged when they realised who he was. It was unbelievably nice to be anonymous for a few minutes. He wanted more of the light banter and laughter. He wanted more of her secrets. He wanted more of her palpable excitement and joy when talking about being at a race weekend. He fully felt the same thrill.
She wasn’t a threat to Emiliano. She’d been adamant about her disinterest in any drivers—certainly not one four years younger than her and still a teenager. She’d had the driver faults nailed. They were all arrogant, egotistical, single-minded. They had to be. Butshewas driven, too. Making it as a mechanic to P1 Global was a serious achievement. She’d meant it when she’d said she’d worked too hard to mess it up. Which made him inclined to believe her about everything, including the part about wanting to be placedfirst.
Thatwasn’t something he could ever offer anyone. For him, the company wouldalwayscome first. He owed that to his father.
But Lily was engaging and gorgeous and no wonder his cousin had been hanging on her every word earlier today. He’d been an overly suspicious idiot, but he’d fix it. He’d confess—to a degree—and step back. Though he would insist Emiliano be kept away from her; the kid needed to concentrate. He’d filter the instruction via Shane rather than antagonising his cousin directly. He breathed out the niggle of guilt and settled lower into his seat. He might as well rest now. Except her scent enveloped him; her words and passion lingered in his mind. Refreshing. Bewitching. Beautiful. Maybe no threat to Emiliano, but a terrible temptation to him.
No. He didn’t get tempted. He wouldn’t let that happen. He would tell her who he was the second they woke.
Heaviness gradually invaded his limbs. He felt an overwhelming sense of peace and well-being descend like a warm weight upon him. He blinked drowsily and realised there was anactualweight. She’d slumped sideways, her head pressed against his biceps. The armrest between them was digging into his ribs; it had to be doing the same to hers. He roused himself enough to carefully push her upright. She didn’t stir as he slowly lifted the armrest, making their seat a double. She still didn’t rouse. He was ruefully reminded of how unaware she was of him. He could just make out her features—her turned-up nose, the full pout of her lips, her delicate, high cheekbones. She was even prettier than he’d imagined from that video clip. Only now, to his infinite regret, she didn’t slump back towards him.
The banked-up tiredness from the past few weeks hit full force. He couldn’t remember why he’d even boarded this damned plane anymore. All he knew was that it was dark and warm and he was wrapped in her lightly fragrant scent. He shifted and she tumbled close again. He froze for a moment, then gently wrapped his arm around her shoulder, keeping his hand above the small blanket. Not copping a feel but getting them both comfortable. He carefully stretched out, closed his eyes again and let her softness melt his muscles—determined to suppress the desire stirring low in his body. He would sleep so very soon. In this last second, he would enjoy these few moments of innocent intimacy with a stranger. He would forget who she was. Whohewas. In the dark, with the low hum of the engines lulling them, nothing mattered anymore. Drowsily, almost unconscious, he pulled her closer, absurdly comfortable despite the bare-bones surroundings. And for the first time in forever, he fully relaxed.
Lily woke with a feeling of supreme comfort, realising she was pressed against solid, breathing security. Her hand was splayed on his abs and her breathing was in sync with the gentle rise and fall of his chest beneath her cheek. She would die of mortification at being all over him like a vine if it weren’t for the fact that both his arms were wound around her—one heavy across her shoulder, the other stretched over her waist and resting on her hip. Holding her close.Safe. Thus cocooned, Lily was warmed through to the bone, every muscle within her lax. The humming plane engine provided a sound screen, adding an additional layer of privacy to the velvety dark, sensual sanctuary already enshrouding them. She had no idea what time it was nor how long they had left in the air, and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been held like this. Tenderly. Intimately.Fiercely.
Honestly, it had been years since she’d been held at all. More than five since her brother had gone, since her boyfriend had broken up with her, since her parents had thrown her out of her home. She’d not allowed anyone this close since. She’d made it a rule never to get involved with anyone remotely related to work, but as she only had time for work, she only met men from work and therefore, they wereallexcluded. But this guy had nothing to do with her job. He was nothing but a fellow traveller, passing through her life for a few hours. And as rusty as she was, as vaguely experienced, she knew their chemistry had been instant and intense. In the glimpse she’d had of his body, in his husky voiced, easy-going interest and dry amusement, there had been awareness. They’d shared little really, yet it was more than enough for a deep resonance to strike within. The vibrations between them still hummed. He was a decent guy—supportive. She never shared her dreams but he’d unquestioningly believed she’d make it to wheel-gun queen, and now she couldn’t resist the temptation to press that touch closer to his perfection, breathing in his musky scent. She didn’t want him to wake. She wanted to stay like this forever—cravedthis precious closeness. So she breathed it in. She was so engrossed in appreciating the sensations, that she didn’t notice the subtle quickening of the rise and fall beneath her at first. She gently spread her fingers, feeling more of his broad but lean chest, stilling as she grazed the steely point of his nipple with her thumb. Heat filled her and she couldn’t resist swiping her thumb across it again. His sharp inhalation filled the tiny space between them. His heavy, all-encompassing arms tightened.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she whispered, mortified. ‘I fell asleep on you.’
She went to pull away but his arms tightened more. She froze. There was a breathless beat before he suddenly relaxed his hold but she didn’t straighten and move away from him as she should.
‘Don’t apologise,’ he murmured. ‘I liked it.’
‘Yeah?’
‘Yeah.’ He sounded sleepy but his arms flexed again. Keeping her right where she ached to be.Close.
‘Me, too.’
Wary, yet unable to resist tiptoeing towards some wonderful, fragile temptation, Lily slowly slid her palm farther up his chest. She heard another hitch in his breath but he said nothing. He didn’t stop her. Emboldened by the warmth and the darkness, by the leashed power in his firm hold, she gently explored more—skimming her hand up to the neck of his tee and across to the bare warm skin of his throat. He seemed to stop breathing entirely as Lily fluttered her fingertips all the way up to his jaw. It was roughened by stubble, but still sharp; he was all masculine angles. She grazed her fingertip—the lightest brush, an illicit, irresistible touch—across his lower lip and felt the welcoming swipe of his tongue. Adrenaline surged as anticipation flooded her.
Green light.
It took nothing to raise her head and lightly brush her lips over his. His arms instantly tightened. Hehadbeen holding back on his power. His lips parted and met hers. She gasped as he groaned, lost in drowsy, erotic appreciation. He cupped her face and deepened the kiss, taking control, but she kissed him harder—matching his ardour. She didn’t want to speak. Didn’t want him to, either. She didn’t want anything to stop this moment. She needed nothing but this because she’d never been kissed like this in her life.
Yet, all too soon, kisses weren’t enough. She wasn’t close enough. She unfastened her seat belt and he immediately pulled her onto his lap and wound his arms tight around her, not breaking the seal of their mouths. Ignited, she kissed him harder, increasingly hot and aching. He combed his fingers through her hair, toying with the silky length before settling his heavy palm on the nape of her neck, keeping his kisses lush and deep. He shifted beneath her and she succumbed to the carnal urge to climb right on him. She tore her lips free, snatching a breath, and managed to straddle one of his thighs. He kissed down the side of her neck, gently tracing over her collarbones, setting off trails of pure fire that arrowed low. She clamped her thighs harder around his as he skimmed his hand beneath her tee and lifted it up and off her. It was hot, fast, unstoppable. He teased his thumbs over her bra and flexed that thigh beneath her, encouraging her to ride. With exquisite, torturous strokes he guided her pace. The delicious friction of the rock-hard muscle right beneath her core felt incredible—igniting her. She knew it took both discipline and genetic blessing to have a body like his. She groaned, wishing she could get him naked, get closer still. Apparently, he read her mind. She moaned as he unfastened her jeans and slid his hand into her pants, but her position blocked wholly intimate access. It didn’t matter. He got one finger right where she needed it, applied the exact pressure she ached for. Quivering, she rocked and he rubbed and it was unbearably hot and slick and hungry.
‘Go on, gorgeous,’ he growled against her breasts. ‘Get it.’
She needed no encouragement; she was almost there. He sucked her nipple deep into his mouth, bra and all—hard. She bucked, barely biting back her scream as pleasure smashed through her in ecstatic, intense waves, over and over until she slumped against him, breathless and sweltering and unable to believe she’d hit that high, that hard, that quick.
Now he roved his hands carefully over her back as the spasms slowly ebbed. His was the lightest, most tender touch, but she didn’t want careful; she wanted complete.
‘Don’t hit the brakes too soon,’ she muttered unevenly.
His huff of amusement warmed her, but he tensed more—which ought to have been impossible.
‘Then you need to pick the braking point,’ he growled.
Oh there wasn’t going to be a braking point.
‘You do realise that was just the qualifying lap,’ she murmured. ‘We’re not stopping until we both get the chequered flag.’
