‘What are you doing?’
She turned and saw Massimo settling into a sun lounger up on the deck. She’d thought he might sleep in.
‘Callisthenics, some weights, then a twenty-minute swim,’ she answered.
The pool had a resistance setting so she could swim for ages and get nowhere, and she’d gotten a yoga mat and some weights delivered to the villa and set up a small circuit.
‘In a bikini?’
‘Why not?’ She eyed him defensively; she didn’t want him suggesting she shouldn’t overexert herself in the heat. ‘I’m building my muscles. I need to prove my strength if I’m to make it into the pit crew.’
He opened his mouth. Closed it. Clearly thinking before speaking. ‘You’ve been told you’re not strong enough?’
‘So many times it’s very boring.’
‘Yet, motivating because you can’t resist defying convention.’ He frowned. ‘None of our female mechanics have made it into pit crew. Do you think it’s gender bias?’
‘Maybe.’ She swung her arms in opposite circles. ‘It’s ironic when you consider that womenarestronger than men.’ She caught his raised brows. ‘Generally, we live longer. Case closed.’
‘But Lily…’ He looked mournful. ‘Would you really want to live without me?’
‘I can’t wait to.’
‘Yet, you want to stand in front of a car hurtling towards you at eighty kilometres an hour?’
‘You know how good the brakes are.’ She sighed and swung her arms the other way. ‘Obviously not while I’m pregnant. But just because I’m pregnant doesn’t mean I can’t maintain my strength.’ She paused as he slipped his T-shirt off and settled back bare chested in the sun. ‘Are you sure you don’t want to move inside? I wouldn’t want to get your laptop wet.’
‘You won’t,’ he said softly. ‘I can safely read my report from here.’
His sunglasses didn’t hide the fact that he was watching her. Avidly.
Lily lifted her head and flaunted her flexibility as well as her strength—yes, she showed off, feeling a provocative sensuality as she moved. But he didn’t move; he was rock still while she grew increasingly hot. In the end she had to dive into the cool water far sooner than planned. Even then she was aware of himstillwatching as she swam. In minutes she gave up and rested her arms on the side of the pool and watched him watching her.
‘How far through your report did you get?’ She smirked.
‘How far through your twenty minutes did you get?’ he countered, but then slammed the lid of his laptop shut. ‘It’s impossible to get anything done when you’re around to watch.’
A bubble of joy rose within her. His haste mirrored her need exactly. She wanted him—now, always. He hauled her out of the pool, as decisive, intense, driven as ever. Her limbs liquefied as he kissed her. Her knees weakened, her body becoming a pliable mass in the languid heat. She loved learning how to do the same to him—seeking out his vulnerable points, discovering the preferences he couldn’t hide—the sudden clench of jaw, the agonised groan he could no longer contain. These were allwinsfor her. He was as alone as she, but just for now they could have this; she would make the most of every moment she could. She caressed him, indulging every decadent sense until stark need gripped them both until they were lost in that mindless storm of ecstasy. Then she pressed her face to his chest, hiding how increasingly vulnerable she felt in the aftermath. She didn’t ask how long they were staying in their gorgeous little villa. She didn’twantto know and she was very happy to use sex to avoid serious discussion.
Except it wasn’t avoidance; it was rapidly becoming addiction and it was absolutely becoming a problem.
Massimo reworked his routine. He remained in bed until she woke, then made the most of her snuggly hot morning mood. After breakfast, she worked out by the pool. He’d been aware of her athleticism—he’d repeatedly explored her slim, supple, strong body—but watching her physical training was a delicious torment now he indulged in daily. She did it as she did everything else—with full-bore intensity.
He burned through as much work as was humanly possible in as short of a time he could. It was a far reduced schedule, but still too onerous and he was increasingly annoyed by the requests for him to get back to the office. Any one of the offices—even the one in Singapore. A bunch of invitations clogged his inbox. He didn’t answer any. Instead, he couldn’t resist joining her on the sofa, and the afternoons vanished in replays of races and technical analyses. They debated best track, greatest ever driver, overtake of the season thus far. Her knowledge didn’t just rival his, but possibly surpassed it. Though as neither of them were inclined to concede an inch, it made for passionate arguments only to be resolved via physical domination.
Three days had passed like this and now he pounced the second she appeared from her post-swim shower. ‘Help me choose the colour scheme for the interior of the new coupe.’
She looked startled. ‘Are you serious?’
‘Come and see.’ He gestured to his computer. ‘My current dilemma is choosing between this periwinkle or this sky blue.’
‘Peri-what?’ She laughed. ‘So you act as if you’re exceptionally busy making company decisions so big they take up three screens, but you’re actually just studying colour swatches?’
‘They’re vital. Form and beauty matter.’ He genuinely wanted her opinion, but apparently, she was still stuck on the fact that this was an actual question. ‘And my spreadsheetsarevery big, hence the three screens. I always get the final say on colours for all of the products.’
‘Thisis what keeps you up at three a.m.? Massimo, this is mastery-level micromanagement.’
‘There have to be some perks,’ he said. Never would he admit what demons really kept him awake. He’d never regretted the mistakes of his past as much as he did now.
