Authors: Jane O'Reilly
When she finally managed to get herself together enough to open her eyes, she found his mouth with hers and straddled him on the narrow seat. He tasted of sweetness and hard, dark arousal as she gripped his wide shoulders and desperately kissed him.
‘Let’s go back,’ he said, when she let him go for long enough to speak.
‘What for?’
‘Because I want to see if you won.’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ Nic said, still trying to find her calm, her centre.
‘It matters to me.’
‘You’re serious.’
He threaded his fingers into her hair, nipped at her bottom lip. ‘Uh-huh.’
‘You’ll have to drive,’ she told him. ‘My legs are jelly.’
Sebastian laughed. ‘Then move over, wild thing.’ He let himself out of the car, walking around to the driver’s side as Nic collapsed into the seat. She could feel the slip between her legs, the silk of her shirt clinging to her skin. Did he really think she was wild? She felt it. She’d never let go like that before, never found a man able to make her let go. But Sebastian could. With him she found herself doing things, wanting things that she’d never thought possible.
She clicked her seatbelt into place and in that moment her nerves clicked back on. What if he wanted to go further? What if he wanted to spend the night?
What if she agreed and he saw what she’d done to herself and hated her for it? Sebastian made her feel sexy and desirable and strong, and she loved it. She wanted more. She was just so scared, so ashamed, so unsure of herself.
The driver’s door opened but Sebastian didn’t get in. Instead he leaned against the side of the car, only his lower body visible. Not that it was an unappealing sight Nic thought, taking in the slash of heavy thigh that showed in the rip of his jeans, the flat stomach that she knew was ridged with muscle.
Before she’d met him she’d been coping. Not happy, exactly, but coping. Now she could see the possibility of happiness. It had become a real, tangible thing.
And she wanted it.
Leaning against the roof of the car, Sebastian scooped his hair out of his face and tried to convince himself that taking Nic in the house and getting her under him was a bad idea. She needed to win the contest, to hear her name called out in first place when the judges read out the results. She might not think so right now, in fact he was certain she didn’t, but if she let this go she’d kick herself later.
She’d given herself over to him so willingly, and he’d loved it. He’d never met a woman before so able to let him take over like that, and just the thought of it had him hard and aching. It wasn’t that she’d let him be in control. It was that she ‘d needed him to be??.
God, he wanted to be needed like that. Nic wanted him for sex, he knew that, and he could give her what she wanted in that department. He had every intention of giving it to her for as long as he remained in Lostwithiel. Not just to scratch that itch, but because he genuinely liked her. Maybe even more than liked her.
The thought caught him off-guard, made him unsteady on his feet. He wasn’t ready for this. He wasn’t sure he ever would be. Walking away from her, though?
No. No way.
‘Are you ready to go?’ Her voice cut through his thoughts, forcing him back to the reality of here and now.
He fixed on a smile, ducked his head inside the car. ‘I’m always ready for you, princess.’ He lowered himself into the driver’s seat, adjusted the rear-view mirror, snapped on his seat belt.
And then he saw the look on her face. Sebastian dropped himself in to the seat, grabbed her wrists. ‘What’s up?’
Her eyes darted to his face, then away. ‘I want you to tell me what we’re doing isn’t weird.’
He pulled her close, angled his mouth over hers and let himself taste her. Her tongue slipped over his, shy, warm, sweet. He felt like he’d been missing this for his entire life. ‘It’s weird as hell.’
She pulled back. ‘I thought so.’
‘I’ve always liked weird.’
Nic stared at him, forehead creasing. ‘No-one really likes weird, Sebastian. We just like to think we do, so we won’t feel bad about how screwed up we are.’
He took another taste from her and started the engine. He revved it hard then reversed out of the driveway at speed, the wide tyres kicking up a tidal wave of gravel. A perfectly executed handbrake turn spun them around in the road. Then he really let rip. And tried not to think about the truth in what she’d said.
‘I won’t ask where you two have been,’ Ella said, swirling her tongue round the outside of what had to be her third cornet complete with chocolate flake and sprinkles.
‘We went for a drive,’ Nic refused to blush. ‘The Ferrari gets upset if it has to sit for too long.’
‘It sat in the garage for six months,’ her stepsister pointed out. ‘I never heard it complain.’
‘That’s because it’s the bottling-things-up type.’ Nic settled herself down on the grass, bent her knees and wrapped her arms around them. ‘Did we miss anything?’
‘The pet show and the bake off.’ A voice blared out over the tannoy, a burbled noise that seemed to miss every third word. ‘That’s us.’ Ella got to her feet, held out her hand. ‘Come on. Moment of truth.’
‘Given that I nearly ran over a judge, I imagine I’ll be last,’ Nic said, not moving.
‘That judge is a pompous arse. Everyone wants to run him over. Come on.’
Obviously ‘no’ wasn’t an acceptable answer. Nic got to her feet on legs that still weren’t quite steady. She smoothed her shirt into her shorts, shook back her hair, moistened her lips and tasted Sebastian. The blush hit her cheeks before she could even think about controlling it.
‘Penny for them,’ Ella said, linking her arm through Nic’s and leading her in the direction of the little stage that had been set up for announcements.
‘Not for all the money in the world.’
‘Hmm,’ Ella replied. ‘Remember when we used to come to this when we were younger?’ She waved in the direction of the stage. ‘It’s improved a bit since then.’
‘We’ve all improved since then,’ Nic replied, realising quite how true that was. The person she’d been as a teenager seemed very far away now, almost as if those years and that life had been lived by someone else. She felt like she was standing on the edge of something, as if everything was about to change. She swallowed he fear in her throat.
Ella pulled her to the front of the crowd that had gathered in front of the stage, beaming and apologising profusely as she pushed and shoved and generally elbowed her way through. She exuded easy confidence but Nic finally understood it was anything but. This was the way Ella had learned to cope with life. Underneath it all, she was no more certain of herself than Nic was. They’d just responded to situations differently. She’d thought Ella had it all, being the pretty one, and all the while Ella had hated her for being the smart one. But they were just names. Just labels. They weren’t real.
A prickle at the back of her neck told her Sebastian was in the crowd somewhere and Nic turned her head, searching for those sparkling green eyes and that shock of dark hair. Sure enough, there he was, right at the back. He was standing slightly behind everyone else, phone pressed to his ear. His brows lifted in acknowledgement when their gazes met and that snapshot of his eyes told her so much.
Sebastian understood her in a way she didn’t understand herself. He accepted her, bad hair, bad attitude, car obsession and all. And when he touched her, she felt…soothed. As long as she had that she didn’t need anything else. She could be disqualified from the contest and given a lifelong ban and it wouldn’t matter.
But she still found it hard to breathe when the judge stepped on the stage. He tapped the microphone and the entire crowd clapped their hands over their ears and let out a synchronised groan. He flicked through the pages on his clipboard, apparently in no rush. Enjoying his moment in the spotlight no doubt.
Maybe she’d gone about it the wrong way, but in her gut she knew she’d had a point to make earlier. The contest was outdated and sexist and making women feel like rubbish for not being attractive enough was bang out of order. Nic stuck her chin out and folded her arms as the judge began to speak. She stared deliberately at his face, noticing the way he avoided making eye contact with her. It was almost funny, the way his face purpled when she stuck her tongue out at him. She was tempted to give him the finger for good measure, and was wrestling with the last thread of self-control when he read out a name. Third place. And then another. Second place.
And then another.
First place. Nicola Sinclair.
Her whole body went numb, and her ears filled with the thunder of her pulse. This couldn’t be right. It couldn’t be real. Could it? Ella screamed, whooped, hugged her tight and hard, and then Sebastian was with her too.
She fell against him. ‘You did it, princess,’ he muttered, pressing his mouth to her hair, then tilting up her chin as her body plastered itself against him. ‘You are officially the most beautiful woman here.’
‘With the best car,’ Nic heard herself say through the fog addling her brain. She could smell his skin, and the urge to angle her head in and lick his neck nearly undid her. This was all that mattered. How she felt when Sebastian looked at her. Being attractive wasn’t about being pretty; it was about being confident, about taking the risk. ‘Oh, god,’ she
muttered. ‘Take me home, Sebastian. Get me the hell out of here. Take me home and get inside me.’
‘Feeling a little desperate, are we?’ His palms slid down her sides and back up again, skimming her hips and the sensitive sides of her breasts under the warm gold silk.
‘I’ve gone way past desperate,’ Nic said desperately. ‘I’ve entered a whole new place and trust me, it’s dangerous. You might not want to be around if I don’t get what I want.’
He pulled in a long breath and set her away from him. ‘I want to,’ he said. ‘Believe me; I want it more than anything. But…’
The bottom fell out of her stomach. ‘But what?’
Sebastian turned his head to the side, ran a hand over his jaw. ‘That was the team boss on the phone. They need me to drive.’
‘When?’
‘Tomorrow. Flight to Barcelona leaves at eight.’
Nic stumbled back, finding her footing but only just. Her throat burned. Her whole body hurt. ‘You’re leaving,’ she said, and it was a statement, not a question. A tidal wave of hurt crashed down on her, and she didn’t know whether to throw up, burst into tears or punch him in the face.
‘I have to,’ he said, his jaw hard. Gone was the flash of wickedness, the spark in those bright green eyes. All she saw now was the same sad, angry man who had followed her every time she’d run out on him.
‘Why?’ she challenged him, not caring that the audience who had gathered to see the stage were now turning their attention very firmly on the newest spectacle — Lostwithiel’s resident celebrity having a domestic with the woman from the garage. ‘Why do you have to go?’
‘Because it’s my job,’ he said shortly.
‘You’ve got a job!’ she said desperately. ‘At the garage! Or does that not matter to you? So, what, you own half of it but you get to dip in and out when you feel like it?’
‘It was always temporary. You know that.’
Yes, she had known that. She’d known things would crash to a halt, eventually. She just hadn’t let herself think about when eventually might come. It had become something that would happen in the far and distant future, in another lifetime, when she’d had her fill of Sebastian Prince.
Someone tapped her on the shoulder, and Nic spun round to see the judge, not too close but closer than she ever wanted him to be. ‘What?’ she yelled.
‘If you could spare us a minute, Miss Sinclair, you need to come up on stage to collect your prize.’ His snotty disdain was like a slap to the face and for a moment, Nic reeled from it. Then she squared her shoulders and walked over to the wobbly wooden stairs that led up on to the stage. She didn’t look at Sebastian.
She air kissed and shook hands and pretended to smile, fumbled her certificate and the little silver cup that proclaimed her to be the Misses and Motors champion, and nodded dumbly when something was muttered about engraving and it was taken away.
She held a glass of champagne and posed for a photograph, all the while her mind reeling, locked in a strange place where nothing was real. Then she walked up to the microphone, thanked everyone for their support and forgot everything she’d wanted to say about a contest that judged women on their appearance.
Because deep down, in a secret little place, she was thrilled to have won. Being pretty was as important to her as it had ever been, and she needed that external validation, craved it. It was like a sickness inside her, that need for approval, and she finally had it.
She needed it more than ever now that Sebastian was leaving. Being with him was like winning the lottery and finding that it made life worse, not better. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go.
It was a disaster.
Sebastian strode away from the stage, mentally forcing himself to think through all the things he needed to do. The house needed to be locked up, the rental company contacted to let them know it would be empty. He needed his passport, a change of clothes.
He needed…
The ground under his feet was dry and hard and he kicked at it, pinching the bridge of his nose. There was a choice to be made here. Walk away and he’d be back behind the wheel and back on the track by tomorrow morning. As he’d told Nic, it was his job. His career; the blood that pumped through his veins and what got him out of bed in the morning. Without that he was nothing.
Stay and he’d have Nic. With him. Under him. He’d get to make her come and he’d be inside her when she did. He burned at the thought of it, ached at the thought of getting up tomorrow morning and not seeing her. He hadn’t realised how much he’d come to look forward to seeing her every day, sharing coffee from the little coffee maker in her office, deliberately winding her up just to see what she’d do. And learning from her, enjoying the sheer pleasure of working with someone who viewed an engine as a living, breathing thing.
He’d get that from the other drivers and the team mechanics, sure, but it wouldn’t be intimate. It wouldn’t mean anything. He couldn’t turn down the chance to drive. But he couldn’t walk away from Nic, either. There had to be another way.