The Full Velocity Series Box Set

by Tracie Delaney

  He curved an eyebrow. “Who’d have thought you would be so good at taking orders?”

  Using a move I’d mastered in judo during middle school, I had him flipped and on his back in a second. I straddled him and grazed a fingernail along the edge of his boxers, tonguing my teeth.

  “Your turn.”

  “You should warn people about that,” Devon said, wearing a bogus offended expression.

  “You won’t be complaining in a minute.”

  I tugged down his underwear. His cock sprang free, thick, hard, the tip red, the slit weeping. I dampened my lips.

  “How do you like it, Devon?”

  I wasn’t in the habit of asking men how they liked their cock sucked. In my experience, there wasn’t much they didn’t like, apart from teeth, and some even weren’t averse to the odd graze here and there. But somehow, Devon’s admission he hadn’t been with a woman for a while meant I wanted this to be the best experience ever. Like I wanted to blow his head off—literally.

  He threaded his fingers into my hair. “With you, Riles,” he rasped. “I like it with you.”

  Dear Lord, please save me. Devon Gray was an old romantic—and I was royally screwed. Those few words had awakened feelings inside me, dangerous feelings of hopes and dreams. But that was a treacherous road to travel. I’d promised him casual, yet one mind-bending orgasm later, and already I could feel my heart expanding.

  Stupid, Reilley. Real dumb.

  Hope was a bright star orbiting a black hole. Sometimes the pull of gravity was too much, and the star would be obliterated.

  I shook the fanciful thoughts from my mind. This was all about Devon, about giving him pleasure he’d, for some unfathomable reason, denied himself. I was both gentle and firm, paying great attention to the head, using my tongue and my lips to impart maximum enjoyment.

  As I’d suspected whenever I’d fantasized about sex with Devon Gray, he barely made a sound. The odd gasp, a sharp intake of breath, his fingers briefly tightening in my hair as his climax galloped toward him. I, on the other hand, made lots of noise. Appreciative groans and moans that imparted I was having just as good a time as he was. An ex-boyfriend of mine once told me there was no bigger turn off than a woman who looked as though she was writing a grocery list in her head while she had her man’s dick in her mouth.

  I kept my eyes on his face. I didn’t want to miss Devon’s expression when he came. I’d dreamed about seeing his sex face for months.

  His chin was tilted slightly upward, his lips parted, his eyes closed. His chest rose and fell rapidly, sweat beading his upper lip.

  “Shit,” was the only clue I got before he climaxed.

  The sheer ecstasy that blazed across his face as he emptied inside my mouth would be forever imprinted on my mind. And afterward, the grateful look he shot my way had me crawling up his body and kissing him until I ran out of air.

  Sweat clung to both of us, and it was only as I rolled to the side that I realized I still had my bra on, with my boobs bunched over the top of the cups.

  “Reilley?”

  I turned to face him, wondering how long he’d need to recover before he was hard enough to screw me.

  “Yeah?”

  “I don’t have any condoms.”

  Grinning, I got out of bed and strolled across the room, removing my bra as I went. I’d dropped my purse by the door. I bent down, retrieved it, and reached inside. I opened the box of condoms—a girl never went anywhere unprepared—removed one, and brandished it in the air.

  “Ta-da.”

  Devon

  Moonlight peeked through the gap in the drapes casting light across half of Reilley’s face. Her caramel-streaked hair fanned over the pillow, and I picked up a strand, letting it slip between my fingers.

  What have I done?

  I climbed out of bed, pulled on my boxers and pants, and wandered out onto the balcony. Night had barely chased away the heat of the day. There wasn’t even a breeze in the air to cool the temperatures. Beneath me, the twinkling lights of Monaco glowed against the blackness of the sky, and from here, I could just about make out La Rascasse corner, a tight one hundred and thirty-five degree right-hander and beyond that, Virage, another right-hander that led the cars into the start-finish straight.

  Monaco was a terrific motor race but also one of the most stressful. These days, if it weren’t already on the Formula One calendar, it would never be approved. The additional risks with racing at high speeds around such a narrow circuit wouldn’t meet today’s rigorous safety standards, but it was so synonymous with Grand Prix racing that it would take a brave man or woman to insist it be removed.

  I glanced over my shoulder at a sleeping Reilley, hopelessly trying to sort through my feelings. Tonight had taken such an unexpected turn, and I wasn’t sure what to think, to feel. To do.

  The sex had been phenomenal. If it had been mediocre, my decision would be so much easier. But Reilley had drawn emotions from me I hadn’t believed myself still capable of. When I’d come inside her the first time, the rush of sheer joy I’d felt hit me like a thunderbolt, and not because I was orgasming inside a woman for the first time in over four years. No, it was because Reilley was that woman. Jesus, I’d even felt a prickling sensation behind my eyes when I’d looked down at her, her hair a wild tumble, eyes sparkling, and a deliciously satisfied smile on her lips.

  So if tonight had been so amazing, why was I standing outside wondering how to extricate myself from a situation of my own making without crushing a girl who didn’t deserve it?

  Guilt.

  I’d slept with Reilley because she’d promised no strings, that she was fine with casual. What I hadn’t banked on was I wasn’t fine with casual. I wanted more yet was entitled to nothing.

  Charlotte…

  An image of her before the accident floated in front of my eyes, the apparition timely yet crushingly devastating. If I’d been in love with her, then maybe I wouldn’t resent the invisible chains holding me against my will. If we’d been engaged, or married.

  Maybe.

  Yet I had zero entitlement to resentment. The second Charlotte’s pin had broken free, the instant I’d realized she wasn’t properly anchored to the cliff face, the moment I’d watched her body fall, stripped away my rights to feel anything for myself. From that day to this, the only person entitled to feel indignation or bitterness was Charlotte.

  I drew a hand over my face, a trio of exhaustion swamping me: a crazy but thankfully successful weekend, an unexpectedly wonderful night in the arms of a beautiful woman, and crushing remorse because, for a few precious hours, I hadn’t thought about Charlotte.

  I padded back inside to fetch my phone. I still hadn’t texted Caroline back over her latest demand for money. Apparently, since we’d moved Charlotte to the home in Switzerland, Caroline wanted to visit on a regular basis and expected me to foot the bill for her flights and accommodation.

  I returned to the balcony, reread her message, then typed a response.

  I don’t shit dollar bills, Caroline. We agreed I’d pay for three visits a year, evenly spread. You’ve already had two.

  I didn’t expect her to reply immediately. With Caroline, though, I should have learned she loved to throw me off kilter because five seconds later, her response landed.

  Charlotte needs me. She’s miles from home. I’m all she has. This is all your fault.

  Despite the rhetoric being old, the stab of pain felt as new and raw as ever. I pressed a fist into my sternum, holding my breath until the pain eased.

  “What are you doing out here?”

  I spun around. Reilley had her shoulder propped up against the doorjamb, her arms crossed over a chest she’d encased in my shirt. She’d left the top few buttons unfastened, the swell of her breasts visible.

  A dart of pleasure replaced the pain Caroline’s untimely reminder had caused, and my cock jerked in appreciation. Seemed like the feast after the famine had only increased my appetite.

  Oh
God, this is all wrong yet so damned right.

  She strolled over, hips swinging. My gaze dropped to her shapely legs, the tails of my shirt reaching mid-thigh.

  She pointed her chin at my phone, still clutched in my fist. “Ringing the secret missus again, Devon?”

  My cheeks heated. Charlotte was far from a secret wife, but she was a bloody big secret, one I needed to ensure stayed that way if I had a chance of keeping my sanity. I shoved the phone into my pants pocket and covered up the blush with a coy grin.

  “Busted.”

  Her hand curled around my forearm. “Come back to bed. It’s late.”

  I resisted her urging. No idea why.

  She inclined her head. “What’s wrong, Devon?”

  Nothing.

  Everything.

  When I didn’t reply, she stepped up close to my body, her arms wrapping tightly around my waist. “You can tell me anything.”

  I can’t tell you this.

  I bent my head and captured her lips, partly because, damn, I wanted to kiss her, and partly to distract her from this particular line of questioning. Reilley had a nose for a story that a bloodhound would be proud of. We might have grown closer these past few months, and even more so after tonight, but that didn’t mean I trusted her. First and foremost, Reilley was a storyteller, and finding out I was responsible for destroying Charlotte’s life was one hell of a story.

  Our connection was so strong that we went from a standing start to hurtling toward the finishing line in five seconds flat. I tore my shirt from Reilley’s shoulders, flinging it to one side. My pants and boxers followed, and I eased her back inside, both of us falling onto the bed in a tangle of arms and legs, and desperate need.

  For a few blissful minutes, being with Reilley chased away my troubles. If I never felt peace like this again, I’d still be eternally grateful.

  “Devon, I have to go.”

  I forced my heavy lids open and blinked up at Reilley standing over me, fully dressed, her suitcase propped up beside her. I swept a hand over my face.

  “What time is it?”

  “Six. My flight leaves at eight-thirty.”

  I struggled to focus, my brain groggy through lack of sleep. “What flight?”

  Reilley perched on the end of the bed and tenderly grazed my stubble with the back of her hand. “I’m due back in the States. I have some commitments I can’t get out of.”

  I pushed upright and surprisingly found myself saying, “Don’t go. Get a later flight.”

  Her answering smile kicked my heartbeat up several notches.

  Dangerous, Gray. Step away from the precipice.

  “Don’t tempt me.”

  I tossed the covers to one side, revealing how hard I was for her, despite only awakening thirty seconds earlier. “He wants you to stay.”

  She giggled, then bent her head and kissed the tip. My cock twitched in appreciation.

  “See, look, he’s talking to you.”

  This time, she kissed my lips, too briefly for my liking.

  “I adore this side of you, Devon. I knew you had a humorous edge buried somewhere very deep. More please.”

  I arched an eyebrow. “Who said I’m joking?”

  “You don’t fool me,” she said, giving my erection a quick stroke. We groaned in unison. “Dammit, Devon, I really do need to go. I’ll call you.”

  She stood, gave me a last lingering eye-sweep, and then she left.

  I stared at the closed door for a good five minutes. My head was all over the place. One minute I couldn’t bear to think of ending what had only just begun. The next, fear of Reilley discovering the man I truly was, compelled me to break it off before either of us fell too deep.

  I rubbed my stomach in an attempt to ease the clenching muscles, anxiety undulating within me. Rolling over in bed, I pulled the sheets up to my chin and tried to sleep.

  I failed.

  Ten minutes later, I shoved off the covers and padded into the bathroom. I showered, shaved, and dressed. Unlike Reilley, my flight wasn’t leaving for another few hours. Normally, I’d sleep in late, barely make it to the airport, fly to London, crash for twenty-four hours, then head to the factory to meet with my team.

  Not today.

  I rode the elevator down to the hotel restaurant for breakfast. They’d only just opened, and as I smelled freshly cooked bacon, eggs, pastries, and toast, my stomach rumbled. I picked up a newspaper, slipped into a booth, and ordered breakfast and a pot of coffee.

  The server had just set down my breakfast when Jared plunked into the seat opposite. “Couldn’t sleep either, huh?” he asked, then without waiting for an answer, hit the server with a panty-busting grin and said, “Coffee, darling, please. Strong and black. Eggs, bacon, and a side of fruit.”

  The server blushed beet-red, tucked her hair behind her ears, fluttered her eyelashes, then scuttled off.

  I shook my head. Jared knew the effect he had on women, yet since he and Paisley had become an item, he hadn’t once shown any interest in the opposite sex. His behavior toward the server just then was simply Jared being Jared. Always insanely polite, it wasn’t his fault he had Hollywood-style good looks and a smile to go with it.

  “Please tell me you got laid last night and Reilley managed to extract that pole from your ass while riding your dick.”

  I breathed out heavily. “Fuck you.”

  Jared threw back his head and laughed. “You did. You sly old dog.”

  During the last two years that Jared and I had worked together, we’d become close friends. On more than one occasion, I’d almost told him my secret, usually after a particularly stressful incident with Caroline or Charlotte, when I’d been desperate to offload. But at the last moment, I’d lose my nerve. Jared looked up to me, relied on me, and liked me. Selfishly, I didn’t want that to change.

  “I never admitted to anything.”

  “You didn’t need to, buddy. It’s written all over your face.”

  Jared leaned in, conspiratorially, although given the volume of his earlier accusation, his discretion was a bit like bolting the stable door when the horse was already in the next country.

  “For what it’s worth, I’m real happy for you. Clearly you have good taste, given you’ve never been short of offers. Reilley’s a top girl. You could do a lot worse.”

  Back up from the cliff edge, dickhead.

  “You make it sound like I’m ready to put a ring on it,” I scoffed. “It was a casual fuck between two adults, not love’s young dream.”

  He opened his mouth to reply, paused to let the server set down his breakfast, then bored his gaze through mine once she retreated.

  “I call bullshit on your ass, Gray,” Jared said. “I know a player, because I was one, for years, before I met Paisley. And you, my lying-through-his-goddamn-teeth friend, are about as far removed from a player as I’ve ever seen.” He stroked his designer stubble. “In fact, come to think of it, I’ve never seen you with a woman in the two and a half years since I first met you. Never. So don’t try to tell me that fucking Reilley was nothing more than a warm body to snuggle up to.”

  I stared at my forkful of scrambled eggs, my appetite suddenly deserting me. Dropping the fork, I pushed my plate to one side.

  “It’s co—”

  Jared’s hand shot in the air. “Please don’t say complicated again. You said that last night. Don’t be a clichéd asshole. All men who are scared of commitment pull that card.” He sipped his coffee, hard eyes trained on me while he drank. “Buddy, I have no fucking clue what’s going on with you. You’ve always been a tight-lipped bastard, but please, for the love of all that is holy, don’t let a woman like Reilley slip through your fingers, because I guarantee you will regret it. Whatever is going on with you, sort your shit out. There isn’t a problem in the world that’s insurmountable.”

  If only that was true.

  “If you want my advice, or even if you don’t, finish your breakfast, go back upstairs, screw the hell out
of that girl, and tell her you’re willing to give it a shot.”

  “She left for the airport over an hour ago.”

  “To go where?”

  “Back to the States apparently. Something about a meeting.”

  Jared clouted my upper arm. “Then go after her.”

  I shook my head. “You and I both know I can’t do that. I’m due at the factory on Tuesday. We need to run the design changes through the computer and get the parts made before Canada.”

  Jared scrubbed his face. “Right.” He blew out a breath that puffed up his cheeks. “This job really is shit for relationships, isn’t it?”

  “Yep.”

  He finished his breakfast and stood. “At least give it a chance. Call her. Stay connected.” Downing the last of his coffee, he hit me with one of his trademark grins. “See you Tuesday. Unlike you, I managed to keep my hot girl in bed, waiting.”

  I flipped him the bird as he walked away, laughing.

  Bastard.

  Reilley

  “Thank you so much, Diane. I really appreciate you speaking with me.”

  “No problem,” Devon’s sister replied. “Although if Devon hadn’t given his approval, you wouldn’t have got a single word out of me.”

  I chuckled. “Why do you think I wanted him on board for this project?”

  Diane’s light, tinkly laugh came down the phone line. “If you think of anything else, let me know. And when you speak to that brother of mine, can you ask him to call home a little more often.”

  Grinning, I said, “I can try, although I doubt I’ll have much sway with him.”

  “True. Stubborn as an old mule, that’s Devon. Right, must dash. Got to get the kids ready for school.”

  I said goodbye to Diane and saved the file where I’d taken notes of our conversation. Devon’s sister couldn’t be more different from her brother. Where Devon was taciturn, Diane was outgoing and chatty, offering information freely. I hoped I’d get to meet her one day.

  She’d given me a great idea, though. Now I just needed Devon to play along. I checked the time in Europe. Just after ten in the evening. Acceptable, I thought. I dialed his number.