Revved

by Samantha Towle

  “Don’t…ever…fucking…leave…me…again,” he pants, his forehead pressed to mine.

  “I won’t. I promise.” Feeling and seeing the hurt I’ve caused him brings tears to my eyes. They run from the corners like a tap as a sob escapes me.

  Halting, he pulls back, seeing my tears. Concern laces his eyes. “Jesus, Andressa, what’s wrong? Have I hurt you?”

  “No.” I touch my hand to his face, reassuring him. “You’re not hurting me. I’m just so…so-sorry for hurting you.”

  “Shh, babe.” Turning his face in, he presses a kiss to the palm of my hand. “Don’t cry. You’re here now, and that’s all that matters.” Wiping my tears away, he tenderly kisses me. “I love you, Andressa.” He starts to move inside me again, slower this time. “I love you so much.”

  We keep our eyes locked together during the whole time he makes love to me. Even when our orgasms rush and collide almost violently and it nearly becomes too much to bear, we don’t break eye contact.

  After we’ve come down from our high, framing my face with his hands, he kisses me softly, reverently. Then, slipping out of me, he moves, lying on his side. He brings me over to face him, and hooking my leg over his hip, he holds it there.

  “I’ll clean you up soon,” he says. “But right now, I just need to be with you.”

  “I need to be with you, too.” I can’t ever imagine not being with him again.

  He’s staring into my eyes. I watch as he pulls in a deep breath and exhales it.

  “Look, I know you said in the elevator that we should talk, but I don’t want us to rehash all that bad shit. I want it to stay in the past where it belongs. All I will say is…being apart from you, was the hardest fucking thing that I’ve ever had to do. Those were the worst two fucking months of my life. I wanted to come after you so many times. I can’t count the times I had my phone in my hand, ready to call you. I was even at the airport once, ticket in hand, ready to fly to Brazil and beg you to take me back, but I realized it would never be right between us if I did. You had to come back to me. I needed you to come back to me because I had to know that you wanted to be with me. That you feel as strongly for me as I do you. I had to know that you loved me, and the only way I would was if you came back. But I swear to God, Andressa, if you ever fucking leave me again, I’m chasing you, to the ends of the fucking earth if I have to. I’ll never be without you again.”

  I touch my fingertips to his cheek as tears prick my eyes again. “You won’t ever have to chase me. I’m not going anywhere, I swear. I’m so sorry I hurt you, that I let my fears get the better of me. But…you have to know that it’s not going to be easy. Those fears I have over you racing…they haven’t gone away. They’re still here. I just finally realized that I couldn’t be without you, fears or not. So, now, I just need to find a way to live with them. And I will,” I promise him.

  Cupping my cheek, he touches a thumb to my lips. “We’ll find a way together. We’re a team, babe. Don’t ever forget that.”

  “We’re a team.” I love the sound of that.

  I smile as he brings his mouth back to mine, brushing his lips softly over mine.

  “It’s me and you, babe. You have to conquer something, we do it together. Okay?”

  “Okay.” I smile again before curling my fingers into his hair and crushing my lips to his. I softly whisper over them, “Team Ryan and Amaro forever.”

  WE’RE HERE FOR THE FINAL RACE OF THE SEASON.

  To win the championship, Carrick needs to win this race. He’s on pole position as he came in first in qualifying, but everything rides on today.

  I’m nervous for him. And about the race itself.

  But I’m dealing. Kind of.

  Okay, I’m shit fucking scared. But I’m forcing myself to stay calm. I will not freak out.

  I’m not working today. Carrick wouldn’t let me. I don’t know whether that’s a good thing or not, but he said to let Pete finish up this last race, so I’m not worrying over the mechanics of his car. He said he wants me to be relaxed. Well, as relaxed as I can be.

  We’ll get through this final race, and then when we go home to England, I’m going to start seeing someone, a therapist, to help with my issues over his racing.

  If I want to be with him, I have to learn to deal.

  Seeing a therapist was Carrick’s idea, and I agreed with him. He said that he’ll come with me to the sessions. He said if he understands my worries better, then he’ll know how to handle me, if or when I flip out again.

  I’m not sure how I feel about being handled, but I suppose I can’t complain if Carrick is doing the handling.

  One thing I do feel, oddly enough, is a sense of relief. I’m relieved that he knows how bad it got for me back then and why I left him. I just wish that I’d told him back then, so we wouldn’t have lost those two months together. Hindsight is a great thing.

  But it’s all in the past now, and we’re in a good place—a great place. We’ve talked a lot.

  And spent a lot of time in bed.

  That’s definitely been fun, the making-up part.

  Carrick got to meet my mum while we were still in Brazil, and they got along brilliantly. We all had dinner together—me, Carrick, my mum, Uncle John, and Owen. It was a great night. Owen is actually being much nicer to me these days, which is a good thing. He finally trusts me with Carrick, and that means something. Underneath the hard exterior is a good man who loves his son, as any father should.

  I hear the announcements start to come up for today’s race. It’s not long before it’s time for Carrick to go out there.

  My heart starts to beat a little faster, so I take a calming deep breath.

  Formula 1 is missing a man off today’s announcement—Leandro. Thankfully, he survived his crash, but it was touch and go for a while. There was a lot of damage to his body, internal bleeding, but he managed to pull through, and now, he’s on the mend. I’m not sure if he’ll ever race again. For his sake, I hope he does.

  Carrick and I went to visit him while he was in the hospital. Leandro didn’t seem like his normal self, but he was still making jokes, so I took that as a positive sign.

  Carrick’s on the other side of the garage, talking with Ben, and I’m watching him. Well, I’m staring at his arse. It’s a really nice arse.

  Turning, Carrick catches me staring. A smirks spreads across his face, making my cheeks redden. But I up my game and give him a cocky look.

  Leaving Ben, Carrick comes over to me. “You checking out the goods?” He places his hands on my waist.

  “Maybe. They are good goods.”

  He gives me an offended look. “Only good?”

  “Okay, the best goods—ever. That better?”

  “Much.” He smiles. Brushing my hair from my face, he says in a quieter voice, “You doing okay?”

  “I’m a little scared. Announcements freaked me out a bit, but I’m coping,” I answer truthfully.

  I made a promise to him that I would always be honest with him, no matter what, and I intend to keep that promise.

  “You remember what we talked about?”

  “If I start to panic, sit down, take slow calming breaths, and drink some water. No running. Stay put, and wait until you’re back.”

  His lips lift as he squeezes my waist. “Petra’s staying with you, right?”

  “Yep, she’s my bodyguard.”

  I give him a look, and he sighs.

  Carrick asked Petra to stay with me while he races. I got a bit pissy with him about it, not that I don’t love being with Petra because I do, but I don’t need Carrick getting me a babysitter either.

  “I just didn’t want you to be alone.”

  “I know. It’s okay. I get it.” I rest my hand against his chest. “I appreciate you looking out for me. It’s good that she’s here, so I won’t be alone.”

  His brow furrows. “You’re never alone, babe. You need to hear my voice, go sit with John and my da, and you can put an earpiece in. Okay
?”

  “Okay.” I smile.

  He returns my smile before kissing me.

  I can taste his pre-race chocolate on his lips. Delicious.

  “You taste good,” I murmur into his mouth. “Chocolate…yummy.”

  “Carrick’s chocolate kisses.” He kisses me again, giving me another taste.

  “Hmm…I like that.”

  “And I like you. A lot.”

  “Seriously, dudes. Enough with the kissing!”

  I break away from Carrick to see Petra standing there.

  “Jealous?” I smirk.

  “Yeah. Totally. I really need a man.” She lets out a faux-dramatic sigh. “Now, you, shoo,” she says to Carrick. “I want some time with my girl. You have her enough as it is.”

  I stare back into Carrick’s eyes, touching a hand to his face. “Good luck.”

  “Thanks, but you I don’t need it, babe. Carrick Ryan, god of the tracks, remember?” He gives me a cheeky wink. “See you soon, babe.”

  One final kiss, and he’s gone.

  Sitting on the chairs with Petra, I watch as he pulls on his helmet and gets into the cockpit. Ben straps him in. Then, Carrick is pulling out onto the track, and I feel my heart start to race.

  I reach for Petra’s hand.

  “He’s just warming up. He’s gonna be fine, Andi,” she says softly. “He’s gonna win this race, and then you guys will go back to the hotel and have a marathon sex session.”

  That makes me laugh. I turn to look at her, and she’s grinning at me.

  “Glad you’re here, Pet.” I give her hand a squeeze.

  “Yeah, me, too.”

  “He’s set to do it. The reigning champion is on the home stretch, set to take the gold home…”

  I’m on my feet at the sound of the announcer’s voice. My heart is beating faster, knowing that Carrick is almost there on the home stretch, so close to crossing that finishing line.

  Come on, baby. You can do it. Come back to me safe.

  It’s been a tough hour for me, not that Carrick’s racing hasn’t been seamless because it has. But now, I’m watching him closing in the gap to the checkered flag, and my heart is in my throat, excited for him, but still nervous, and just needing him back here with me.

  The flag is down.

  He won!

  Yes!

  The whole team is on their feet, cheering and hugging each other. Petra and I are jumping up and down, screaming.

  But I won’t relax, not fully, until he’s here with me and I’m in his arms.

  My eyes are glued to the pit, waiting for his return. The moment I see his car pulling in, I’m running out of the garage to him. He’s only just climbed out of the car when I’m jumping into his arms.

  He hasn’t even gotten his helmet off, but I just need to hold him. Need to remind myself that he’s real. That he’s here, and he’s mine.

  Tipping my head back, I press a kiss to the visor of his helmet.

  I feel his chuckle rumble deep through his chest.

  Freeing a hand from around me, he undoes the strap and pulls his helmet off. I remove his balaclava for him.

  His hair’s all stuck to his head. And he’s never looked more beautiful to me than he does in this moment.

  I run my fingers through his hair, ruffling it up. His eyes are bright with his win.

  “You’re here,” he says on a smile.

  I tilt my head to the side. “Did you doubt I would be?”

  “Nah, not for a minute.”

  “Good.” I smile. “Because I’ll always be here, Carrick, waiting for you.”

  “And I’ll always come back to you, babe,” he says softly.

  I touch my fingers to his mouth, tracing the curve of his lips. “So, you won.”

  “I did.”

  “Champion again.”

  “Mmhmm.”

  “Podium time soon. Trophy. Champagne spraying.”

  He loves that shit.

  “Meh.” He shrugs.

  “Meh?” I look at him, surprised.

  “Yeah, meh.” He presses his nose to mine. “The podium can wait because I already have the greatest win of my life right here in my arms.”

  Then, he’s kissing me, and I never, ever want him to stop.

  I OPEN THE DOOR TO THE GARAGE and walk inside to see Andressa bent over her car, head under the hood, gorgeous arse stuck up in the air.

  Sexiest fucking sight ever.

  And this is exactly how I saw her a year ago today in the garage at Rybell. I knew right then, when she turned around and gave me all that sass, that my life was about to change, and I wasn’t wrong.

  Andressa is everything I never knew I wanted, and now, I wouldn’t know how to live without her.

  Soul mates—or whatever the fuck you want to call it—she’s mine.

  After we got back from Abu Dhabi, Andressa moved in here with me a few weeks later. People might think it was quick, but I don’t give a shit. Life is too short to waste, and after not having her for two months, I knew I couldn’t be without her ever again. I’d asked her to move in, and she’d said yes. It made sense, her moving in here anyway. She was never at her place, mainly because I wouldn’t let her out of my bed.

  Come on. Look at her. What man in his right mind would?

  Living with Andressa is everything I knew it would be. We’re not perfect by a long shot. We still have some stuff to work through—her fears about my racing and my issues with rejection—but we’re getting there together.

  We’re happy.

  When the press found out who Andressa was, that she’s William’s daughter, things got a little intense there for a while. Paparazzi were camped outside of the house for days, following us around and that kind of thing. I worried how she’d deal, but she was fine. But we did mostly stay home during that time. I didn’t want her to be asked any questions about her father that could stir up painful memories for her.

  I want her to be happy. And she is, but I’m not sure for how long.

  Racing season will be starting up in a few weeks. We’ll be flying out to Melbourne soon.

  Andressa is back in her job at Rybell. She wouldn’t have it any other way, and neither would I. There isn’t anyone I trust more with my car than her.

  But I know she’s getting anxious in the run-up because she’s told me. She always tells me. And I’m doing everything I can to reassure and help her.

  She’s seeing a therapist. She has been since we got back from Abu Dhabi. I’ve been attending sessions with her. She does one on her own and one with me, alternating weeks. I think it’s helping. She says it is. I guess we’ll find out how well in a few weeks, but no matter what, she’s going nowhere.

  I’m now confident in the fact that she won’t ever leave me again because she’s spent the last few months reassuring me of that. We’re solid, but I was bruised up from the time we spent apart. We’re giving each other the reassurances we need, and we’re getting stronger every day.

  Things can only go up from here. Well, at least that’s what I’m hoping after tonight.

  “Please tell me that you’re my birthday present,” I say, moving in closer to her.

  Turning her head, she grins at me over her shoulder. I know she remembers that that’s the first thing I ever said to her. I can see it in her beautiful eyes.

  She moves out from under the hood, wiping her hands on a rag. Oil smudged on her cheek, she comes over to me.

  God, she’s fucking beautiful. I’ll never tire of looking at her.

  “It’s your birthday?” she says, tilting her head with a sexy smile on her face, in that voice of hers that gets my dick hard.

  She’s playing along.

  God, I love her.

  At least I get to fuck her this time—unlike the first time when we spoke these words to each other. That nut took me fucking months to crack.

  “It is.”

  Reaching me, she runs her fingers up my chest as she presses her body against mine, and I instantl
y want to fuck her.

  Sliding my hands around her back and downward, I grab her arse.

  “Guess I’d better make it extra special for you then.”

  There’s a glint in her eye that’s getting me all kinds of excited.

  Removing the oil smear from her cheek with my thumb, I tell her, “You already do make everything extra special, babe.”

  The glint goes, and she gets that watery happy smile in her eyes that she always gets when I say soppy shit to her.

  I love that look.

  Bringing her lips to mine, she gives me a soft kiss, making all of me stand to attention, but then she’s moving away all too quick.

  “What time is it?” She looks around for the clock.

  “Time for you to get your hot self ready.” I give her behind a playful swat. “We have dinner reservations in an hour.”

  “Shit! It’s that time already?”

  “Yep.”

  “Sorry, baby. Have I been neglecting you on your birthday?”

  “A little.” I give a pout before kissing her again.

  I’m playing it here, going for a sympathy shag. They’re always the best as she goes to town on me when she’s feeling guilty about something. And don’t give me crap because you know you’d do the same.

  “But you can make it up to me in the shower.” I grin over her lips.

  “I’m gonna suck you so hard,” she murmurs.

  Holy fuck.

  Hands still on her arse, I lift her up, loving the way her long legs instinctively wrap around me. And I start walking out of there, carrying her back to the house. While I’m moving, she unzips her overalls, giving me a fan-fucking-tastic view of her tits, and I can see the McQueen necklace that I bought her hanging around her neck.

  She never takes it off. She told me she kept it on the whole time we were apart. I’m just hoping there’s something else she’ll never take off either soon.

  But definitely not her clothes. No, they’ll be disappearing in a few seconds.

  At the sight of her tits and the thought of her blow jobs, I pick up speed, practically running into the house, making her laugh.

  I fucking love that sound. It makes my heart beat faster and my dick as hard as nails. But then, it doesn’t take much because everything about her makes me hard.