The Full Velocity Series Box Set

by Tracie Delaney

  “I’m so sorry, Mads. I can’t bear to think anything I do might scare you. You’re my whole world.”

  She wrapped her legs around my waist and reached between us. Her small hand wrapped around my dick, guiding me to her entrance. I groaned and pushed forward. Balls deep inside Mads was my safe place, my personal slice of heaven. There was nowhere else I’d rather be.

  “It’s okay, Tate,” she murmured, caressing my face. “It’s okay.”

  Burying my face in her neck, I breathed in the faint trace of perfume she’d dabbed behind both ears earlier this evening. With every thrust of my hips, the shitty evening diminished until the only thought in my mind was of Madison. How she felt beneath my hands, the soft little groans she made as I shifted my angle, the way her mouth parted and her eyes fell closed in bliss.

  “I love you,” I muttered in her ear. “So goddamn much.”

  Her lids fluttered and, as she locked her gaze on mine and clenched her core, murmuring, “I love you”, I came, hard, a rush of exhilaration exploding within me. Madison climaxed right along with me, the rhythmic vibration of her muscles drawing out my orgasm. I briefly rested my weight on her, holding her tightly, then rolled to the side.

  I searched out her hand in the darkness and threaded our fingers together.

  “I’ll do it,” I said. “I’ll go to see them.”

  The bed sheets rustled as Madison shifted her weight. She moved our joined hands to my chest and rested her head on my shoulder.

  “It’s the right decision.”

  I kissed the top of her head. “I want to go alone,” I said, hoping she wasn’t offended by my demand. If Madison accompanied me, it would heighten the emotion, and I feared a repeat performance of tonight. By visiting on my own, I could be detached, cool, and simply state my case. Tell them how their lack of parenting and affection both before and after Cam died formed deep scars that, even my mother’s imminent demise, couldn’t erase.

  “I’ll support whatever you decide,” Madison said. “Just don’t leave it too long.”

  I nodded in the darkness. “I’ll go tomorrow.”

  After a fitful night’s sleep, I rose early, grabbed a T-shirt and jeans, and stole out of the bedroom. Using the bathroom down the hall to avoid disturbing Madison, I made a coffee and sat at the dining table to watch the sun rise over a bitterly cold and frosty London.

  In thirteen days, one week before Christmas, I’d marry the woman of my dreams. Every day between now and then should be spent feeling ecstatically happy with a focus on the future. Yet dread circled in my gut, stealing my joy. Despite agreeing with Madison that I owed it to myself to expel the poison inside—which I laid fully at the door of my parents—that didn’t mean I relished the opportunity. It was like resisting the need to swallow a foul, bitter tasting medicine despite knowing it would make you feel better.

  Deep in thought, I didn’t hear Madison arise, only aware she’d joined me when her arms slipped around my neck. She pressed her cheek to mine.

  “How long have you been awake?”

  “A while.” I closed my hand around hers and leaned into her embrace. “Coffee?”

  “You stay there. I’ll make it.”

  She picked up my half-finished—and now cold—coffee and ambled into the kitchen, yawning.

  “Tired?” I queried, grinning.

  She jabbed an accusatory finger in my direction. “I blame you.”

  I chuckled. “In my defense, I was almost asleep after the third time. You were the one who decided to put your mouth on my dick. I put it down to you pinching the last duck spring roll. Must’ve given you extra energy.”

  She smiled and shook her head. “Always have an answer for everything, don’t you, Flynn?”

  I stood and sauntered into the kitchen, capturing her around the waist as she reached up to grab two fresh cups.

  “Yep,” I said, nuzzling her neck.

  She twisted in my arms and pressed the flat of her hand against my chest. “What time are you heading on out?”

  She didn’t need to add “To see your parents”.

  I hitched a shoulder. “After breakfast.”

  “Will you call ahead?”

  “No.”

  She nodded in understanding. “Your mum looked too ill to venture too far anyway.”

  I waited for a flash of pain, anything that might give me an indication I gave a shit.

  Nothing. Nada. Zip.

  “Shall I cook?” I asked, eager to change the subject.

  “I’ll do it.” She pointed her chin at the chair I’d vacated. “Sit, and I’ll wait on you hand and foot.”

  Laughing, I said, “Too right you will, woman. Good practice for after I put a ring on it.”

  I skipped out of her way as she flicked a tea-towel at me.

  “You are a complete prat.”

  “I prefer loveable rogue.”

  She snorted. “I’ll stick with my moniker.”

  My mood lifted by playful banter with Mads, I wolfed down a full English, taking advantage of the off-season—although I’d pay for it in January—drank a liter of juice, and poured a fresh coffee into a to-go mug.

  I lingered, savoring several kisses Madison gave me before she virtually shoved me out the door with a clear instruction to call her as soon as I was on my way home.

  My happy mood withered the closer I drew to my parents’ place, and by the time I turned off the road and eased the car between the imposing gates, my frame of mind had darkened to resemble the blackest of nights.

  I climbed out of the car on unwilling legs, slammed the door, locked it, and slogged my way to the front door, expecting it to open and a reverent maid to virtually bow as if I was a member of the goddamn aristocracy.

  Instead, when the imposing door opened, I found my mother standing on the other side.

  Agape, I stared at her. Mother never opened the door. She said it was beneath her, and that was the reason she employed staff.

  “Tate,” she said, nipping at her lip and looking more unsure than I’d ever seen her. “I’m so glad you came back.”

  “You can thank Madison,” I snapped, striding past her and into the house.

  “I will,” she said, her tone softer than I thought her capable of.

  She led me to the same room as last night where Father greeted me with a tentative smile.

  “Come on in, son.”

  I grimaced, the fondness in his voice unfamiliar and unwelcome.

  “Can I get you something to drink?”

  I shook my head at him and sat down on a plush, comfortable chair next to the log-burning stove pumping out swathes of heat.

  “Is Madison unwell?” my mother enquired.

  “She’s fine. I told her to stay at home.”

  She nodded. “I see.”

  “Do you?”

  A faint smile touched her lips. “Not really.”

  “Then why say it?”

  She fiddled with a frilly white handkerchief, the corner stitched with her initials. “I’m nervous.” She laughed. “Nervous with my own son.”

  “That’s because I’m a stranger,” I bit out. Cruel, maybe, but if she thought that my return meant I’d go easy on her, I’d dispelled that myth in less than sixty seconds.

  “Yes, I suppose you are.”

  A few seconds scraped by, the silence deafening as I stared at the fire, and felt my parents stares on me. Father spoke first.

  “Madison was very clear on where she stood after you left last night, and she felt it important that we let you talk and we listen.” He gestured with an outstretched palm. “We’re here to listen.”

  With a platform to air my grievances presented before me, I suddenly found myself tongue-tied. My mouth dried, and I licked my lips then swallowed. No matter how ambivalent I was toward my parents, articulating hard truths wasn’t easy.

  I took a deep, calming breath and slowly, haltingly at first, I told them what it was like to be me. As a child, a teenager, a brother
handling his grief alone while his parents refused to discuss the loss of Cam, instead transferring their aggressive demands to be the best racing car driver on to me without caring what my dreams were. Several times, my mother winced, and there were tears from both her and my father.

  I shed not a single one.

  When I finished, exhaustion swamped me, and I could have easily lay down on the sofa and slept.

  Father shook his head. “I know there’s nothing we can do to make up for the lost years, nor for how isolated your childhood was, or how little love we gave you, but I’m hoping you’ll at least allow us a chance to move forward as a family.”

  “No,” I said bluntly. “We can’t. Madison is my family. I’m not sure what you are.”

  Father’s resigned sigh echoed off the high ceiling, and he bowed his head. “We understand.”

  “What I can’t figure out is why. Why were you so cold toward me, so pushy in demanding I fill Cam’s shoes?”

  “I guess we didn’t know how to be any different,” Mother said. “We parented the way we’d been brought up. My parents thought that as long as I was fed, clothed, and had a roof over my head, I didn’t need anything else. I can’t remember my mother ever giving me a hug. Your father’s parents were very similar. We were clueless on how to show affection. But facing your own mortality has a way of opening avenues to thoughts and reactions that simply weren’t there before. I wish things could have been different.”

  She reached for my father’s hand. It was so strange to see that show of affection. Growing up, they’d been as sparing with warmth toward each other as they had to me and Cam. I remember thinking we must have been adopted because I couldn’t imagine my parents getting close enough to actually create a child, let alone two children.

  A twinge of sympathy tugged at my insides. I’d never love my parents the way a son should, but the least I could do was allow my mother to die in peace.

  “The invite to the wedding still stands, if you want to attend.”

  Mother’s face brightened. “We’d love to,” she exclaimed. “Oh, Tate, thank you.”

  I nodded, getting to my feet. I’d said my piece; no point lingering.

  “Right, well, we’ll see you there.”

  “You will,” Mother said. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  With an uncomfortable feeling tightening my chest, I made my way back to the front door, my parents hot on my heels. For one horrifying moment, I thought Mother was going to try to hug me again, like she did last night. Instead, she patted my arm, and Father shook my hand.

  As I drove away, I glanced into the rear-view mirror. My father stood with his arm around Mother’s shoulders, and she wore a look of pure contentment as she leaned into him.

  I smiled. Mads had been right to push me into coming. For the first time in my life, a weight lifted from my shoulders.

  Now, I had closure.

  Madison

  I stared into the mirror, hardly able to believe the reflected image was me. I looked like I’d been plucked straight out of a fairytale. Val, the hair and makeup artist Kaz had found, had worked wonders, and despite having several dress fittings, seeing the finished article actually brought a lump to my throat.

  Every woman should look her best on her wedding day, but even I hadn’t envisaged this. I’d never pull this off again, but for now, I was going to enjoy every moment.

  “Shall I get your dad, love?” Mum asked, her eyes glistening with tears.

  “In a minute,” I said, trying to gather myself before I allowed her to fetch Dad. He was an old softie, and if he cried, that would be it. Makeup ruined—and Val would kill me. “In fact, do you mind if I have a couple of minutes on my own?”

  Mum shook her head, then softly kissed my cheek. “Take all the time you need.”

  The door closed with a quiet snick. Alone for the first time since six a.m., I walked over to the window. Overnight, a light dusting of snow had swept through South East England and the pristine gardens of our wedding venue, filled with borders bursting with winter flowers, added a splash of color to the wintry scene.

  I twisted my engagement ring, smiling as I recalled the day Tate proposed. I hadn’t seen it coming. He’d whisked me away for the weekend to his place in Majorca and, during an evening stroll in the hillside behind the house with the sun setting over the Mediterranean, he’d dropped down on one knee and presented me with a twenty carat diamond engagement ring. I think I was speechless for at least thirty seconds. Poor Tate thought I was preparing to say no.

  My mind turned to his parents. They’d have arrived by now. It must be odd for them, surrounded by people who were close to me and Tate, yet were strangers to them, such was their distance from anything to do with their son’s life. I was glad he’d sort of made his peace with them. The last two weeks, I’d seen a change in him. He seemed calmer, more contented, maybe. I put it down to exorcizing the ghosts that had dogged his life for so many years.

  A light tap on my door pulled my attention away from the wintery scene and the thoughts running through my head. I glanced at my watch, then took a deep breath, knowing it was Dad on the other side.

  “Come in,” I called out.

  Dad peered around the door. Before he’d properly stepped inside, his hand came to his chest and tears formed in his eyes. “Oh, love,” he said. “You look absolutely beautiful. You’ve always been my princess, and today, everyone else will see it, too.”

  I blinked fast to stop my own tears from falling. “Guess it’s time to go, huh, Dad?”

  He nodded. “As long as you’re ready, love. This is your day.”

  “Have you seen Tate?”

  “I have.”

  “Is he doing okay?”

  “Cool as a cucumber,” Dad said, grinning. “Unsurprising considering what he does for a living. You know Tate. He’s not the panicking type.”

  Dad adored Tate, and not only because of Dad’s love of Formula One racing. Tate could have done anything for a living, and Dad would love him regardless.

  “What about his parents? Have they made it?”

  “They’re here,” he said. “Don’t worry, love. Everything is in hand. Your mum’s made them very welcome.” He pulled a face. “Bit stiff, aren’t they?”

  I laughed. “They’re certainly different to you and Mum, that’s for sure.”

  “Something for me to work on. I’ll get a few whiskey’s down them later. That should make it easier to get them up on the dance floor.”

  I leaned in to hug him. “If anyone can, it’s you, Dad.”

  He cleared his throat. “Right then, girl. Let’s be off.”

  He stuck out his arm, and I slipped my hand inside. Lifting up my dress in case I snagged the hem in my heels, we left the room and made our way down the sweeping staircase to the conference room where our guests awaited. Neither Tate or I were remotely religious, hence we’d chosen a civil ceremony.

  Kaz was waiting for us at the bottom of the stairs. I took one look at her expression and pointed at her. “Don’t you dare, Ewing. If you shed a single tear I will kill you.”

  Her eyes glistened, but she held on to her emotions. “You scrub up well, Brady,” she said, air kissing me to avoid leaving a bright red lip print on my cheek.

  I smiled. “Ready?”

  She held her posy of roses and lilies close to her abdomen and nodded. “As I’ll ever be in this get up.”

  The doors opened, and the music began. Dad gave me a reassuring nod, squeezed my hand, then walked inside. My eyes met Tate’s standing at the front with Jared beside him, acting as best man, anchoring me in the moment. I caught sight of Tate’s parents sitting in the front row with Mum alongside them. I kept pace with Dad who had practiced this so many times using Mum as a prop, he had it off to a tea. I spotted Paisley sitting next to Devon and Reilley, and Rob, Tate’s racing engineer alongside Jack and his wife on the row behind, but everyone else’s face was a blur.

  I reached Tate, his eyes o
pen and loving as he leaned close to my ear and whispered, “You look stunning,” while Jared let out a low whistle, then winked at me.

  Dad took a seat beside Mum, and the registrar began the ceremony. Tate reached for my hand, his warm fingers wrapping around mine. When the time came for our vows, we turned to face each other.

  Suddenly conscious of the audience watching me, my mind went blank. I’d practiced what I wanted to say over and over, yet now my moment had arrived, I couldn’t recall a single word.

  “It’s okay,” Tate murmured, so low no one else would have heard him. “Take your time, baby.”

  My heart bloomed with love, and the words I wanted to say to him came rushing back. I held both his hands in mine and smiled.

  “When I was a little girl, I dreamed of what my wedding day would be like. A pretty dress, flowers, the sun shining, my friends and family all around me, and cake. Lots and lots of cake.”

  A chuckle reverberated around the room. I glanced sideways, catching Mum’s eye, her face filled with joy. I returned my attention to Tate.

  “Yet never in those dreams did I imagine I’d fall in love with a man who started out as my enemy yet became my best friend.” I briefly looked upward. “I have my brother to thank for bringing you into my life, and while I wish with all my heart he was here with us, I know he’s up there, looking down and smugly nodding his head.” I grinned. “He loved being right.”

  Tate grazed my cheek with the back of his hand, the depth of his love for me written all over his face.

  “You’re my life, my heart, my reason for being. I couldn’t love you more, Tate Flynn, and I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make you happy.”

  I pressed my lips to his, going against the normal procedure. Not that I cared. Nor did Tate, especially when the peck I intended grew into something deeper. Only when Jared said, “Guys, get a room,” did we break apart to laughter all around us.

  Tate cupped my face, his thumbs tilting my head back and, unblinking, he locked his gaze on mine.

  “Not sure how I’ll follow that, but here goes. Firstly, you won’t need to try to make me happy, Mads. I’m automatically happy, because I have you. Sometimes I lie awake at night and wonder how I got so lucky. The universe brought us together, and from that moment on, subconsciously, I knew you were meant to be mine.