by Cat Schield
His groan was ragged and rough. “Keep going.” The command was nearly incoherent as he set his lips against her shoulder.
She looped her arms around his shoulders and tipped her head, baring her long, white neck to his determined seduction. Taking advantage of what she offered, he lowered his lips to her skin and brought both tongue and teeth into play. Her muscles jerked as he nipped and a low moan rumbled up from her chest.
“Oh, Harrison.” Her husky voice hitched, betraying how turned on she was, and despite the almost painful ache below his belt, he grinned.
He backed her toward the bed, divesting himself of shirt and shoes as he went. Hooking his fingers into her thong, he pulled the bit of silk and lace off her hips and down her thighs. She shivered as he knelt at her feet and helped her step out of the fabric.
While she scooted onto the bed, he stripped off his pants and underwear. As soon as it was free, his erection pointed straight at her. London reclined on the mattress, propping herself up on her elbows, her eyes gobbling him up.
Seeing that she had his full attention, she let her knees fall apart, opening herself to him. The sight of her so pink and wet and perfect made Harrison want to shout in jubilation. Grinning, he prowled onto the mattress.
“You are beautiful.” He trailed his fingers across her skin, lingering over her neat strip of hair that led straight to where he longed to go. “Especially here.”
“Really?” She stared at herself and frowned.
“You can’t appreciate it the way I can.” He grazed his finger through her slick folds and her eyes popped open as a throaty cry burst from her lips. “I love how you’re so sensitive.”
“You bring that out in me,” she murmured, her words coming in soft pants.
Grinning, he lowered his face between her legs and stroked his tongue through her heat. Her hips bucked while a sharp curse escaped her.
“Warn a girl,” she gasped, pressing toward his mouth.
His breath puffed out in a chuckle. “I’m going to put my mouth on you and drive you crazy before I let you come.”
“Better.” She moaned as he went back for a second taste.
Her scent and sweetness made him smile as he devoured her. Each movement of his tongue caused her to moan. Her fingers dived into his hair, digging into his scalp as he drew her pulsing clit between his lips and gently sucked. She gave a half shriek before calling his name. Her hips twisted as she took her pleasure against his mouth.
“Oh, Harrison,” she cried, her voice raspy and broken. “That’s so good.”
He gathered her butt in his palms and opened his eyes to watch her every response as he continued to ply her with lips and tongue. As in everything she did, her body moved with perfect grace. Yet her usual reserve had vanished. She was completely caught up in the moment, her hips rotating like she was dancing for him. It was so incredibly sensual that he just knew he had to push her pleasure still higher.
Harrison redoubled his effort, plying her with every trick he knew. She wouldn’t know what hit her when she climaxed. But first, he had to make sure she was thoroughly familiar with the joys he could bring her.
“Harrison, it’s too...” She grabbed a handful of the quilt and pulled hard enough to cause her knuckles to go white.
“Touch your breasts,” he commanded, wondering if she was too far gone to hear him. “Show me how I make you feel.”
To his shock, she released his hair and the quilt and gathered her beautiful breasts into her hands, kneading and rolling her nipples through her fingers, displaying an abandon he never imagined he’d see.
“Oh,” she groaned. “More. More. Yes.”
Her impassioned cries made him harder than he’d ever been before. But this moment wasn’t for him. At least not directly. He took great satisfaction in driving her wild. Recognizing how badly she wanted to come, he slid two fingers inside her. Her head came off the bed and an incoherent noise tore from her throat.
“That’s it, baby. Give me all you’ve got.” He squeezed her butt cheeks and drove his mouth hard against her clit, grinning as her body began to shudder. “Let go.”
“It’s...it’s...incredible,” she exclaimed and then, with one long keening cry, started to come apart.
Harrison watched it all unfold. There was nothing so perfect in the whole world as London McCaffrey so aroused she became utterly lost in her pleasure, rocking and arching as she drove herself against his mouth. A powerful orgasm moved through her and he savored each wave as it battered her.
When her body grew limp, he eased his mouth off her and tracked butterfly kisses across her pelvis and over her abdomen. Her chest heaved as she labored to recover her breath. She lay with her hands plastered over her eyes as a series of incoherent noises tumbled from her lips.
“You okay?” he asked, gliding his lips up her body and noting the glorious glow her skin had taken on in the wake of her climax.
“What did you do to me?” she mumbled, sounding shaken and utterly spent.
“I’m pretty sure I gave you an orgasm.” He made no attempt to hide his smugness and hoped she wasn’t feeling overly sensitive about how she’d let go. It had been sexy as hell and he didn’t want her to retreat from him. “A big one.”
She spread her fingers and peered at him. “What am I going to do with you?”
A second later she answered her own question by dropping her hand to his erection, making him moan. “Just give that a stroke or two.” His voice became a croak as she followed his instructions, demonstrating that she was eager to please him in kind. “No need to be gentle. It’s not going to break.”
“Like that?”
A series of provocative strokes made him groan. “That works.”
He bent and kissed her deep, showing her how much he liked having her hand on him.
“This is nice,” she murmured when they broke apart. “But it would be better if you’d slide on a condom and make love to me.”
He didn’t need to be asked twice. In seconds he’d located the foil packet and rolled on protection. She watched his actions through half-lidded eyes, lower lip trapped between her teeth. He paused a second to appreciate her tousled blond hair and passion-bruised lips. Then sliding between her thighs, he guided himself to her tight entrance, the tip dipping in, testing her acceptance. The feel of her, so open and receptive, made him want the moment to be perfect for her.
Brushing a strand of hair off her flushed cheek, he kissed her softly. “You ready?”
“Do you really have to ask?”
It took all his concentration to take it slow and let her adjust to him. What he hadn’t considered was his equal need to adjust to her. Her breath shuddered out in a long, slow exhalation as he filled her. It was as if she’d liberated something she’d been holding on to for a long time.
As the long, slow thrust came to an end, she opened her eyes and met his gaze. The trust he glimpsed there made him feel like the most powerful man alive.
“Babe, you feel incredible,” he murmured, making good on his promise to talk. “So tight and hot. I love the way your muscles grab me. Like you want me there.”
“I do.” Her palms coasted down his back and over his butt. She gripped him with surprising strength, fingers digging into his muscles, pulling him hard against her. “I love having you inside me.”
“It’s not too much?”
She shook her head. “I think we’re a perfect fit.”
“So do I.”
And then there was no further need for words. It was a blend of hands, lips, tongue, breath and skin as they rocked together, discovering each other on a whole new level. To say being inside her felt good was a massive understatement. She was all heat and hunger and intensity as she wrapped her legs around his waist and clung to him.
He thrust into her, finding a steady, pounding rhythm she seemed to like.
Her hips moved in time with his, matching his intensity and even taking the wildness up a notch.
“Harrison, please,” she begged, inner muscles clamping down on him. “Make me come again. Now. I need you.”
Harrison had never been one to disappoint a lady. He slid his palm beneath her, lifting her off the mattress. Gripping her firmly, he went to work, watching her beautiful face for every nuance, adjusting his thrusts to bump her clit each time he plunged into her. And plunge he did. Over and over, gritting his teeth, a growl burning in his throat as he held back his own pleasure.
And then her back arched and a strained cry erupted from her lips. She drove her nails into his shoulder and summoned his name from some endless depth. Her body bucked against his, driving into his thrusts. Seconds later she was shuddering in a long series of ripples that drew him right over the edge after her.
With a final thrust, he collapsed onto his forearms, head falling to the mattress above her shoulder. She shifted so their sweaty cheeks pressed together. His chest heaved as he labored to draw breath into his lungs. It took effort for him to open his eyes. More still to lift his head. But he needed to look into her eyes to see for himself that the world-stopping sex had been just as amazing for her.
To his dismay, her eyes were closed. She was equally winded, but her features were relaxed into an expression of satisfaction.
“London?”
“That was way better than I expected.” Her eyes flashed open. A possessive look blazed there for a moment before she let her lashes fall. “And I expected a lot.”
He levered himself to one side, coming to rest beside her, his head propped on his hand. A strand of hair clung to her forehead. He brushed it off, delighting in the quiet moment. She lifted her hand and cupped his cheek. Her thumb grazed over his lower lip.
“Now I’m not just obsessed with your mouth,” she said, sounding drowsy, “but with your dick, as well.”
Harrison’s jaw dropped. Had she really just said that? Did her society friends have any idea this woman existed? He didn’t think so. In fact, if he had to guess, he’d say that London hadn’t realized the depth of her wantonness until recently.
“It’s happy to hear that,” he murmured, sliding his arms around her and pulling her firmly against his body. “And so am I.”
Nine
With her left hand firmly clasped in Harrison’s right, London’s heart picked up speed as he angled the Mercedes onto the driveway and streaked through the Crosby Motorsports entrance gate. Above them, the company logo flanked by the four Crosby team car numbers welcomed employees and fans alike.
London had been silent through most of the thirty-minute car ride, content to listen to Harrison narrate the history of his uncle’s rise to being number three on the all-time winner’s cup victories list for the racing league. And number two in modern-day wins. His teams had won at least one championship-level race each season since 2000 and Jack had ten owner’s championships.
Tonight they were heading to an end-of-the-season party for the six hundred employees who’d assisted Crosby Motorsports in achieving its third-place cup finish. It was London’s first official appearance as Harrison’s girlfriend and all day she’d been queasy as she grappled with the potential repercussions of how far she’d let things go.
The flash drive Everly had given her was a psychological burden bearing down on her heart. Each day she didn’t use it was another day she hadn’t betrayed Harrison. The woman who’d agreed to take revenge on Tristan was someone she no longer identified with. And what did she really owe Everly and Zoe?
Fifteen buildings made up the four-hundred-thousand-square-foot state-of-the-art facility that supported four full-time Ford teams. Walking hand in hand, London and Harrison neared the company’s heritage center. The site of the original race shop when the company was founded in 1990, the building housed Jack Crosby’s extensive car collection.
The flow of guests swept them into the building and past several exhibits, which Harrison explained were popular fan destinations. Freestanding bars had been placed in strategic locations so the guests could get a drink ahead of the dinner being served in a giant tent erected outside.
“Some night I’ll bring you back here and give you a proper tour,” he promised as they strolled hand in hand past rare cars.
“What’s wrong with now?” she asked him.
“I misspoke. I meant an improper tour. Have you ever wanted to make out in the back of a rare 1969 Chevy Camaro?” He hooked a thumb at the bright orange car beside them.
She shot him a droll look even as her cheeks heated. “Do I seem the sort of girl who’d ever have that sort of fantasy?”
Even as she spoke, however, the place between her thighs tingled. She imagined herself grinding on him in one of these vehicles, steaming up the windows and watching his face as he came. What was he doing to her? London shivered in pleasure while his fingers pulsed against hers as if he’d read her mind.
“I suspect you’ve already done things with me you never imagined.”
He wasn’t wrong and she gave a little shrug. Before she could figure out what to say, however, a young man approached them asking if Harrison would come meet his grandmother. She was a huge fan and hampered by arthritic knees.
“Go ahead,” London said. “I’m going to find the ladies’ room.”
“Meet you back here?” He glanced toward the Camaro. “You can consider my offer while I’m gone.”
“I’ll be waiting,” she replied.
Ten minutes later she returned to the spot to await Harrison, unsurprised that he hadn’t made it back. From what she’d seen of him at the track and when they’d encountered his fans out and about, he was always happy to sign autographs and take photos.
The blend of adrenaline junkie, focused athlete and all-around good guy had slipped through London’s defenses. His daring and honed reflexes were remarkably sexy, yet the fact that every second behind the wheel could result in disaster somehow made Harrison relaxed and calm.
His composure was a complete contrast to the emotional minefield London found herself in. Happiness. Guilt. Responsibility. Selfishness. She wanted to bask in the joy of her growing connection with Harrison, but worry and obligation tormented her. Allowing herself to blissfully date Harrison while Zoe waited in limbo for Tristan to suffer couldn’t last much longer. Time was nearly up. She had to act even if that meant she would be compelled to end things with Harrison.
As if summoned by her thoughts, Tristan appeared in her line of sight. He strolled through the swarm of people as if he was the most important person in the room. He didn’t radiate confidence as much as blare it. Several women and some men followed his progress and London couldn’t blame them. The perfection of his strong, chiseled features, styled hair and powerful build made it hard to remain immune.
In his elegant charcoal suit, he looked broader-shouldered than Harrison, although she suspected his bulk wasn’t all muscle. London knew firsthand the strength in Harrison’s lean body. He was honed and sculpted by hours of mental and physical training.
Tristan looked less like a hungry cheetah and more like a sated lion. Either way he was dangerous. Which was why she felt that she’d been punched in the solar plexus when he caught her staring at him. Almost immediately he shifted direction and made a beeline for her. Cursing her lack of subtlety, she slapped a pleasant expression on her face as he neared.
“We meet again,” Tristan said as he entered her space, eyeing her with an interest he hadn’t shown during their first encounter. He held out his hand. “London, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” She gave him her hand and resisted the urge to yank it away as his fingers slid over hers in a way that was overly familiar. “I’m surprised you remembered me. We met so briefly at your aunt’s charity function.”
“You’re a stunning woman.” There was no mistaking the sensu
al glow in his eyes. “I remember thinking I’d like to get to know you better.”
She doubted that. He’d barely given her the time of day before moving on to a woman with an impressive cleavage. So why the sudden interest now?
Confusion reigned as she forced a polite smile. “I’m flattered.”
“You don’t look as if you belong here any more than I do,” Tristan said, echoing what would’ve been London’s opinion a few short weeks earlier.
She glanced away from him and surveyed the party guests, noting the difference from the charity event where she’d first met Harrison and his brother. That evening the women had been dressed in expensive gowns and dripping with jewels. They’d navigated the room dispensing sugary phrases in droll tones.
Tonight’s assembly wore jeans, team apparel and the occasional blazer or party dress. London recognized that she stood out in the leopard pumps she’d borrowed from Maribelle and her classic little black dress. As when she’d gone to the racetrack in Richmond, her styling choices highlighted that she didn’t have much in common with these unpretentious people. No wonder Tristan had approached her. He wore a gorgeous custom suit in dark gray more appropriate to the yacht club than a tent.
“I have to admit this isn’t exactly my regular crowd,” London said, hating the way that sounded even though it was true. “I take it you don’t have much to do with Crosby Motorsports?”
“Hardly.” Tristan glanced around before leaning down as if to share a confidence with her. “My brother is the one who likes to get his hands dirty.” His sneer made his contempt for Harrison clear and the contrast between the brothers grew starker. “The fact that he races cars has made him an embarrassment to our family.”
London wondered if Tristan had any idea she and Harrison had been seeing each other. “He’s quite successful at it.”
“Successful...” Once again his gaze moved over her, this time lingering at her neckline. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those racing groupies. You appear to have a little too much class for that.”