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‘And?’ she prompted when he lapsed into silence. ‘You told them about this?’
‘No. I’ve told no one about this. Except you.’
Surprise registered in her eyes before she glanced back down at the papers. ‘Are you sure you want me to read it?’
‘It’s pure fiction. No deep, dark secrets in there for you to hold over my head.’
Wide hazel eyes, alluring and daring at the same time, rose to lock on his. ‘Are you sure?’
‘If you’re thinking of flipping through the pages for X-rated material, I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed.’
Her blush was a slow wave of heat that he wanted to trace with his fingers. For a woman so fierce in her dedication to her craft and so determined to succeed despite her past, she blushed with an innocence that made him painfully erect. Despite his intense discomfort, he wanted to continue to bait her so she blushed for him again.
Unable to help himself, he lowered his gaze to the shallow rise and fall of her chest.
When she cleared her throat delicately, he forced his gaze upwards. ‘So what are you looking for—an honest critique? I’m sure I can read whatever it is you’ve written and give an honest view, if that’s what you want?’
He smiled at her prim tone and forced himself to step back before he gave in to the need to kiss her. Their kiss had only opened up a craving to experience the heady sensation again. But, aside from the insane physical attraction, he was feeling a peculiar pull to Raven Blass he wasn’t completely comfortable with.
Keeping his distance from her was impossible considering her role in his life, but he wasn’t a hormonal teenager any longer and he refused to make any move towards her that reminded her of her sleazebag father.
If anything was going to happen between them, Raven had to make the first move...or indicate in clear and precise terms that she wanted him to.
‘Gracias, it is. I await your thoughts on my efforts with bated breath.’
CHAPTER SEVEN
THEIR EARLY MORNING departure to Italy, accompanied by Rafael’s executive assistant and a trio of ex-racers, meant that Raven had no chance to discuss Rafael’s manuscript with him at any point. A fact for which she was more than thankful.
The story of the young girl was both uplifting and heartbreaking. Rafael’s language was lyrical and poignant, clever and funny in a way that had made her feel each and every word, every expression.
Reading his work, she’d felt just that little bit closer to him. Raven wasn’t sure if she was more frightened or insane for feeling like that. It was that floundering feeling that had made her take a seat as far away from Rafael as possible.
But even though she made the right noises with the guy next to her—whose name she couldn’t immediately remember—she couldn’t get Rafael’s story out of her head.
Nor could she deny his talent. She’d learned very early on, after reading an unauthorised biography on him before accepting the job as his physiotherapist last year, that Rafael had a magic touch in most endeavours he undertook in his life. That he’d dedicated his life to racing had only meant that the sport had benefited endlessly.
His regular contribution to X1 Premier Management’s monthly magazine already garnered a subscription said to be in the millions. If he chose to dedicate his life to writing fiction his fan base would become insane.
And you would probably be his adoring number one fan.
Without warning, Rafael’s gaze swung towards her. The sizzling knowledge in that look sent sharp arrows of need racing to her pelvis. Her pulse hammered at her throat, her skin tingling with the chemistry of what she felt for Rafael.
‘...you ever been to Monza?’ The German ex-racer seated next to her—Axel Jung, she remembered his name now—stared at her with blatant interest.
She shook her head but couldn’t tear her gaze away from the formidable, intensely charismatic man whose gaze held her prisoner from across the aisle. ‘Um, no, I was Rafael’s physio last year but Monza wasn’t on the race calendar so I missed it.’
‘You’re in for a treat. It’s one of the best racetracks in the world.’
She swallowed and tried to dismiss the intensity of Rafael’s stare. ‘Yes, so I’ve been told. The old track was even more spectacular, from the pictures I’ve seen of it.’
Axel’s chuckle helped her break eye contact with Rafael but not before she saw his gaze swing to Axel and back to her.
‘If you liked danger with your spectacular view, that was the track to race on,’ Axel said.
She made an effort to turn her attention to him and almost regretted it when she glimpsed his deepening interest. ‘I suspect that’s why it’s a thrill for most drivers?’ she ventured.
