suite he’d been given at the O’Malley compound, Maison de Houblon, was in a large guesthouse off the pool. It had a great room with a kitchen and living room area and then a large bedroom that had French doors that overlooked the ocean. But tonight, he was more concerned with the view in his arms.
“I don’t even know your name,” he said.
“Marielle. You?” she asked. There was a lilt to her words, a patrician New England accent that he hadn’t really noticed before this moment.
“Inigo,” he said.
She leaned back and looked up at him. He wondered what she saw.
“Inigo.” She said his name slowly, and he liked the sound of it on her lips.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“‘Ma’am’? There’s the Texas,” she said with a wink.
“I’ll be honest, you’re not going to forget I’m Texan,” he admitted. No matter how much he traveled around the world or hung out with the Italian owners of Moretti Motors, he was still a Texas man at heart. He wore designer suits and handmade loafers at all the press events and prerace functions he went to, but in his downtime, when he was at home, he preferred jeans and boots.
“Good. I wouldn’t want you to be anything other than what you are,” she said, running her hand down his chest, her finger brushing over the studs that kept his tuxedo shirt closed. He felt the warmth of her fingers through the layers of fabric.
“I don’t have that ability. In fact, my boss is always telling me to wait five seconds before I respond.”
“Why?”
“He keeps hoping that common sense will kick in,” Inigo admitted.
“Does it ever?” she asked, running her finger over his bottom lip.
Her touch sent a tingle straight down his spine, making him harden. He pulled her closer, skimming his hands over her hips and holding her loosely. “Nope.”
She threw her head back and laughed, and everything masculine in him sprang to attention, demanding he make this woman his. He caught the sound of her laughter with his mouth, kissing her, and feeling alive for the first time in a long time.
He tucked that fact away for later but knew that he was holding someone special. Someone who was making him realize that there was life beyond the track.
He felt her hands between them, her fingers moving methodically. He heard the sound of the shirt studs as they dropped to the floor with a soft pinging noise. He lifted her off her feet and turned, moving backward until he felt the bed behind him, and then he sat down. She stood between his spread thighs, her hands on his shoulders.
“Moving a little fast, aren’t you?” she asked in a teasing tone.
“I’m sort of known for my speed,” he said, then realized how that sounded. “Not that anyone ever complained.”
She just threw her head back and laughed and said, “Did you stick around long enough to find out if they did, speedy?”
“Yes. I’m not a one-and-done kind of guy,” he said. It had been a really long time since he’d laughed this much with someone. Spontaneously he put his arms around her body and drew her close, the fabric of her satiny dress scrunching up under his arms. He hugged her to him. Just for a moment he wanted to savor this feeling of lightness. Like there was nothing but fun when it came to this woman.
“What’s this?”
“It’s just been a while since I’ve laughed this much,” he said. “Thanks.”
“You’re very welcome,” she said, pushing her fingers through his hair and rubbing his scalp as he tipped his head back and looked up at her. “You’re different.”
“So I’ve been told,” he murmured as her lips came down on his. Their tongues met and rubbed against each other.
She tasted so damned good. He had noted it the first time they kissed, and it was difficult for him to forget. She made him hungrier for more. If hooking up with her made him feel this good, he might have to break his rule about celibacy during the racing season and keep seeing her.
She framed his face with her hands, tipping his head back. The bed dipped as she put one knee on it next to his hips and half straddled him. He fell back on the bed, using his arms around her waist to bring her with him. He liked the way she felt pressed against him from shoulders to waist.
He ran his hands up and down her back, cupping her butt as she deepened the kiss. Though he’d joked about being known for his speed, he’d never been one to rush sex. And it seemed neither was she. She took her time exploring his mouth and moving against him in small subtle movements that made him wish they were naked. But he didn’t want to stop kissing her to remove their clothes.
She circled her finger around the back of his ear, rubbing against the side of his neck, which made him so hot and hard that he thought he would explode.
He put his hands on her thighs. Her legs were firm and the skin soft. She wasn’t wearing hose, so he was touching her bare skin as he spread his fingers wide and squeezed gently.
She shifted her legs against his as he traced one finger up the back of her thigh. She mumbled something against his lips, but he didn’t register the words, just the husky tone of her voice and the way she continued to move against him. Her mouth followed the path of her finger down his neck. His shirt fell open as she moved down his body.
Pushing the hem of her dress up to her waist, he noticed she had on the tiniest black thong. She shifted, kicking off her heels and sitting back as she looked down at his body. He had an intense workout routine to keep in shape. Other athletes didn’t always realize the discipline it took to be a driver.
Marielle seemed to like his muscled chest. She pushed the shirt off his shoulders, and he sat up, shrugging out of first one sleeve and then the other.
He had a tattoo on the inside of his left arm that read, If Everything Seems Under Control, You’re Not Going Fast Enough. She traced the tattoo and arched one eyebrow as she looked back at him.
“Does everything seem under control?” she asked.
“No, it doesn’t,” he said, wrapping one hand in her long blond hair and bringing his mouth back down on hers.
He didn’t want to talk or think about racing right now. He had been steadily getting better on the track, and a big part of him believed that was because he’d quit hooking up with women, but tonight he didn’t want to think about that. It had been too long, she felt too good and it was a new year.
She put one hand between them on his chest. Her fingers spread wide, and her nails scored his skin lightly. He shuddered and felt himself harden further. She eased her hips forward, her center rubbing against the ridge of his erection.
He groaned as his hips jutted up against her. Oh, damn. This was going to be harder than he thought. It had been too long since he’d held a woman in his arms, and his body seemed to be on autopilot. Like when he was on the final lap and saw the finish line, he was ready to go. He reached between their bodies, intent on freeing himself, finding a condom and driving
