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We might make it to the ocean this time.
Maybe. Excitement flutters in my stomach, and I have a different idea.
It’s been too long since my husband, the king, had an evening of complete dominance. He needs it. I need it—especially now, when things feel chaotic.
Placing my phone aside, I close the windows and shut down my laptop. I have just enough time to visit the boutiques. I’ll pick up a dress, but I’ll also pick up something else, something that will require discipline.
Two hours and a light lunch later, I’m headed to the private racetrack where Rowan has his time trials. Hajib drives me everywhere now it seems. He’s Rowan’s best driver, and he’s been with the family since Rowan and Cal were boys. It’s unusual for him not to be with my husband. I’m starting to wonder if he knows about our family planning, and I’ve suddenly become fragile.
He catches my eye when I step out of the car, and I give him a knowing smile. I can only guess Rowan is behind this, but I don’t say anything. It’s sweet. The loud rip of a race car engine draws my attention, and I hurry up the steps to the luxury box.
The wind swirls my short black dress around my legs, and I have to catch the skirt so it doesn’t fly up and reveal my lack of panties… by royal command. I love our little secrets, I think with a smile.
Once I’m above the stands, I turn to see Rowan’s bright red Formula One car flying down around the curve. It shoots past with so much noise and speed, my breath catches. I never watched racing before I met Rowan, and I had no idea how much skill it required—or how dangerous it is. The cockpit is barely large enough for one person, and the speeds are unbelievably fast.
Taking out my phone, I remember how Cal taught me to time him. I wait for him to make it to the white starting line and hit the button on my phone. The seconds stream past as he races through the straight in a noise as loud as a jet engine, then I watch as he slows just barely around the curves, flying again into the straights until again slowing on the second curve and going full-throttle to the starting line again.
Looking down at my phone, his time is one minute eight seconds. My heart thunders in my chest, and I jump up and down cheering. A few men from his old pit crew jog out onto the track as the car slows. He’s coming in, and I have just enough
time to run down the steps to the red and white-painted edge of the asphalt.
The car enters the pit just as I reach the track, and Rowan pushes out of the narrow cockpit and pulls off his helmet. His hair is damp around his ears and hangs in messy waves. When our eyes meet, heat races from my chest to my core. His eyes burn navy, and he’s so sexy, I feel my cheeks flush.
With a smile, he holds out his hands, and I trot forward into his arms. “How did I do?” he asks.
“It was one of your best times,” I answer softly, fixing my eyes on the white stripe in his fireproof suit.
It’s silly, considering everything, but I feel almost shy. His hand is on my lower back, and I want him to slide it lower.
“What are you thinking, my queen?” His deep voice sends butterflies through my stomach.
“It’s been so long since you came to the track. I’d forgotten how it makes me feel.”
“And how is that?”
A smile curls my lips. “Like I wish you could take me right here on the hood of this car.”
His expression darkens. “An idea for another day?”
I glance around to be sure the crew is busy with the car before blinking up to meet his eyes. Reaching around my back, I move his hand lower, over my bare ass under the dress.
“Good girl.” It’s a low rumble that lights my insides.
“Hajib will take me to Occitan.”
“I’ll shower and be right there.”
“Don’t be long.”
* * *
When I arrive at Occitan, I remove my dress and bra and pull one of Rowan’s dress shirts over my shoulders, leaving it unbuttoned. A large, black wedge-cushion is on the floor beside the narrow coffee table, where I’ve placed a black silk mask, thigh restraints with wrist cuffs, a narrow riding crop, and a wide black belt like a cummerbund with handles.
I’m growing wet just looking at the collection, thinking of my sexy husband using them on me, when the bedroom door clicks. Anticipation hums under my skin. He’s here.
“Ava?” His voice is quiet, and I stand with my back to him facing the late afternoon sun shining through the window. It silhouettes my body behind the white shirt.
Glancing over my shoulder, a lock of hair falls over my eye. He stands in the doorway silently watching me. His eyes gleam, and my pulse jumps.
