a new love in Matteo’s life.
Motor racing.
He looked to Abby; she was lost to him for the next couple of hours, her focus on the race, and Matteo was fine with that.
He’d apologise later, he decided, glad that she had drawn the line.
He could understand now her obsession with the sport. Neck and neck took on a whole new meaning when it went for two hours and Abby never broke her focus, not once.
They were going to place, Matteo thought as he glanced at the times and the top four came into the second-last lap.
Better than that, they might hit the podium.
Pedro overtook Evan just as they came into the final lap. The Boucher team was a split second behind Lachance. Pedro was biting at Hunter’s heels though, just waiting for that chance to take him.
And then, when Hunter refused to give him that chance, Pedro made his own.
Young, brave and foolish, at the final turn he took Hunter!
The roar from the Boucher team drowned the engines, and even Abby stopped working. There was nothing she could do from here except scream her lungs out.
Pedro gunned it.
He simply took the engine that she had designed, the car that she had built, the driver that she had nurtured and the team that should lose right into the history books, and Abby just stood there screaming as Pedro took her baby home.
They had won!
Not only that, Evan had overtaken Hunter, who had struggled to right his car from Pedro’s brave manoeuvre.
The noise was deafening but all Abby could hear was silence.
She was being thumped on the back, lifted up; she was screaming but she could not feel or hear a thing.
And then she saw Matteo, right there in front of her.
For the first time today, she properly saw him. He was wearing black jeans and a black shirt. Dark, dangerous and unshaven, the only safe thing about him was that those full blood-red lips were smiling.
At her.
‘You did it,’ he said, moving that final step into her space so that his voice was all she could hear.
Matteo didn’t even get what she had done—that she had finally beaten Hunter—but right now she didn’t even care about that.
‘I’m sorry about the other night,’ he said, his eyes intent on hers.
‘I am too,’ Abby admitted, to her own surprise.
Elation enabled honesty and with those words she admitted the truth she dared not, even to herself—she was sorry that she had said no.
And then there was no space between them. They were wrapped in each other’s arms and the mouth she had wanted from the night they had met was on hers, crushing hers. Had she imagined a kiss over the years it had always been a gentle one.
This was not that.
It was consuming, blatant and very fierce and, unthinking, her mouth opened in delicious reflex. His tongue was straight in, and yet she, too, sought his, like some exotic sword fight, where both were winners as they partook in the deepest, sexiest kiss.
God, he was shameless, Abby thought. He removed her cap and his hand pressed her head further in so she could feel the skin shredding on her jaw. Then he took the energy of their kiss and didn’t just sustain it; Matteo heightened it. He was hard and pressing into her and she could feel every delicious inch. His hands were now travelling down to her bottom and pulling her into him. Yet, rather than pull back, Abby was just as on fire and as sexed up as he.
And then they remembered the rules and pulled their mouths rather than their bodies back.
‘When we win...we kiss...’ Matteo said.
She could live with that.
They were breathing so hard just staring at each other.
‘When we place, we kiss,’ he said, kissing her cheek as if it were her mouth and that made her laugh. ‘And if we lose,’ he continued, making out with her ear, ‘then we have to commiserate...’
He was still hard and still there, nudging her stomach, and there was the beautiful absence of fear, even when he pulled back and looked right into her eyes.
‘What does it feel like to win?’ Matteo asked.
‘Better than sex,’ Abby said, no longer scared to throw a flirty line.
And she expected him to laugh or to haul her closer in for more of a feel of his erection but instead he looked deeper into her eyes.
‘Then someone hasn’t been doing you right,’ Matteo said.
He intended to remedy that later tonight.
HUNTER SAW THEM.
He got out of his car and looked over and saw the woman he had left lying bruised and bleeding on a marble bathroom floor, and then pissed all over, now happy and free.
‘Whoa!’ The reporters shouted in several languages as Hunter kicked his car and threw his helmet down to the ground and then stormed off.
Abby and Matteo didn’t see a thing.
They were too busy laughing as Kedah informed them that Matteo was now the owner of an extremely temperamental horse!
‘Her name is Abby,’ Matteo said but she deliberately missed the inference.
‘I’m not temperamental.’
Or maybe she was, because Abby, who didn’t cry, almost did when she watched as Pedro stood in first place on the podium.
‘I almost want a glass of champagne,’ Abby admitted as Pedro sprayed the crowd with the same.
The Carter team was in second place and Evan grinned and waved and took the dousing.
Hunter attempted to do the same.
It was a good day.
A brilliant day.
And the world was waiting for the press conference.
Oh, they were an arrogant lot, Matteo thought as the drivers came in and took their seats.
Pedro sat there grinning; so, too, did Evan. Even Hunter had recovered from his hissy fit and that assured smile was back on his face.
‘I have to congratulate Pedro...’ They were the first words out of Hunter’s mouth.
He was
