Take Me Series (COMPLETE BOX SET)

by Masters, Colleen

  “That, my dear sister, is positively delusional,” Enzo sighs, “But I can’t stop you from throwing yourself at him, so...be careful. Don’t do anything stupider than you’ve already done.”

  “Goodbye to you too,” I say, as Dad appears across the terminal.

  We go to him, each taking an arm. He shakes us off like gnats.

  “Don’t treat me like a little old lady,” he grumbles.

  “Sorry, Dad,” we say in unison.

  “Will you at least swing by the house once Enzo’s back in the tournament?” Dad asks me, “Since I won’t be tagging along on the trail, I mean.”

  “Of course, Daddy,” I say, wrapping my arms around him. I'm alarmed to see how much smaller he’s already become. “I love you.”

  “Come on, plane’s waiting,” Enzo says, carting my dad away from me. I watch the pair of them make their way outside to the jet and climb on board.

  And that’s when I spot Harrison.

  He’s strolling across the lobby toward his own jet, entourage in tow. Andy and Cora follow along behind him while Shelby and Sara chat animatedly to each other off to the side. As they head off onto the runway, Harrison flicks his eyes in my direction. Those baby blue beacons tell me that we’re all clear, that it’s time for me to go, too. I turn on my heel and march out into the bright daylight. There’s a train with my name on it—a train that’s going to take me to London. It’ll be a long trip, two days at least, but what’s waiting on the other side will be more than worth it, that’s for sure.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Lovers In London

  I’ve always been fond of train rides. As a kid, when we’d spend time in Italy, I loved nothing more than visiting our neighboring towns and cities by train. I’d plant my little hands on the glass, my nose practically pressed up to the window, and watch as the country rolled along before me. Italy is a beautiful place, the sight of which I’d know in a heartbeat. However, the trip from Moscow to London is more exciting than any other trip I’ve taken. The landscape is unfamiliar and new, I’m all alone, and I have a gorgeous man waiting for me once I arrive. The tension of wanting to be with Harrison once more, not to mention the scintillating daydreams that flow into my mind in his absence, is almost too much to be borne. I can’t help it. It’s just what he does to me.

  When we finally arrive in London, I all but skip off the train. In a heartbeat, I’ve hailed myself a black cab and am cruising through the winding streets. Having spent so much time in New York, now being in a city that’s not built on a grid is overwhelming to me. But despite Enzo’s warnings, London is far from the foggy, drab mess he described. The city is sunny and staggering beautiful, with the new and the old blending together to create something entirely unique to behold. The cab whisks me along to Kensington, the neighborhood Harrison calls home. My heart is hammering as we draw up to the curb before an incredible town house.

  “Here we are, Miss,” the cabby chirps, “Have someone waiting for you?”

  “Oh yes,” I tell him, passing what is probably way too much money through the window, “Do I ever.”

  I step out onto the sidewalk as my cab driver grabs my bags. On wobbly knees, I make my way up the polished staircase and pause before the thick oaken door. I’ve just raised my hand to rap on the door when it swings open before me and Harrison Davies is revealed.

  “There you are,” he says, his voice rasping and lusty, “Get in here, you gorgeous thing.”

  I happily oblige, falling over the threshold of the town house and straight into Harrison’s waiting arms. He stiffens almost imperceptibly as I squeeze onto him.

  “Sorry, sorry,” I splutter, “Still recovering, right?”

  “Still recovering, to be sure, but nothing to be sorry about,” he says, pulling me into the townhouse and closing the door snugly behind me.

  I let my eyes trail all along his tall, perfectly-balanced body. His dark wash blue jeans and charcoal gray tee shirt are the epitome of simple stylish. I don’t know how he manages to look so good in the least assuming clothes imaginable, but hey—he’s quite a special guy. And when I finally lift my eyes back to his, I see right quick that he’s preoccupied with my shape, too.

  “How can two days feel so long?” I ask, running my hands through his dark blonde hair.

  “I’ve missed you so much,” he says, pulling me into a long embrace, “Did you get here OK? Did anyone see you?”

  “Not that I know of,” I say, “But I’m almost beyond caring at this point. All that matters is that we’re finally here, together...In your mansion. Thanks for the heads up.”

  “It is not a mansion,” Harrison insists, looking around.

  “Palace, then?” I ask, “Estate, maybe?”

  “Whatever it is, it’s yours for the next two weeks,” he tells me, “Or however long you’d like it.”

  I look around the pristine, polished home of Harrison Davies. With his bad boy persona, I’d expected something far less...put together, that’s for sure. I wasn’t hoping for stripper poles and coke residue, but this place is downright classy. The decor is sleek and minimal, which is a wonderful contrast to the home’s elegant architecture. It’s funny, but this is the sort of place I always pictured myself ending up. Not to be presumptuous or anything...

  “You must be wiped,” Harrison says, looking down into my admittedly tired eyes.

  “You’re the one recovering from a car wreck,” I remind him.

  “I guess we could both stand to relax a little,” he smiles, “But I think I have an idea.”

  He grabs my hand in his broad, strong mitt and leads me across the foyer, up the beautiful staircase. My lungs have to work overtime to keep up with my excited anticipation at scaling the steps to Harrison’s second storey.

  “I still can’t really believe I’m here,” I laugh, as we climb the stairs. “If you had told me when we met in Barcelona...”

  “I know,” Harrison says, looking back at me over his shoulder, “It’s completely mad. But that’s what you do to me, Siena. You make me a mad man.”

  I pause on the stairs, tugging him back down to me. “If this is madness, I don’t mind too much,” I tell him, my voice low.

  In an instant, Harrison’s shifted me toward the staircase wall. My back is pressed up against the ivory surface, and his beautiful eyes are hard on mine. He takes a step toward me, pinning me to the wall with his powerful hips. I plant my foot on the stair above us, letting him press in even closer toward me.

  “What happened to relaxation?” I ask, draping my arms over Harrison’s broad shoulders.

  “It’s overrated,” he tells me, lowering his lips to my neck, “God, I’ve missed the taste of you. The sounds you make. I’ve missed feeling you beneath me, Siena. I’ve just missed having you here.”

  “I’m here now,” I say breathlessly, letting my fingers dig into his back just a bit.

  I’m glad that I chose to wear a simple pair of skinny jeans and white tank today. There is so little separating my body from Harrison’s. And here, in his home, we don’t have to worry. We don’t have to make excuses or rush back to our own hotels. It’s just me and him for however long we please. The thought is dizzying.

  “Here’s what I think,” Harrison says, kissing along my collarbone as he leans into me, “I think that we shouldn’t do anything but fuck for the next week.”

  “I can get down with that,” I laugh, closing my eyes as I feel Harrison’s tongue run along the neckline of my shirt. I want to feel that tongue everywhere again.

  Harrison plants his hands on the wall above my shoulders, pressing his body up against mine. I can feel how hard he’s already gotten, feel him growing against my thigh with every passing moment.

  “So tell me,” I breathe, grinding my hips against his stiffening member, “How many women have you brought back to this place?”

  “Honestly?” Harrison asks.

  “Honestly,” I say.

  He brings his mouth to my ear, closing his
teeth down around my earlobe. “Honestly...” he begins, “You’re the first woman who’s ever been inside of this house. Apart from my mother and the occasional cleaning lady that is.”

  “Yeah, right,” I say, shoving him playfully away.

  “I mean it,” Harrison insists, catching my wrists and pinning them over my head, “I’m a motel, bar bathroom sort of lover, Siena. Or at least I was until a certain someone wandered along.”

  “You mean you’ve never...anywhere in here?” I ask, looking around with wonder.

  “That’s right,” Harrison says, running his hands down along the sides of my body.

  “Well then,” I say, taking his stubbly jaw in my hands, “We have a lot of surfaces to cover, don’t we now?”

  With a grin, Harrison scoops me up and plants me right there on the stairs. My mouth finds his as he kneels before me. Our tongues seek each other fervidly, glancing and gliding and entangling. I kick off my kitten heels and spread my legs, letting Harrison’s hands move down along my thighs. I lean back on the stairs, my hands whipping my tank up over my head. Harrison tears off his tee shirt and crawls up to me. The feel of his bare abs against my torso is warm, familiar...and so divine I could scream.

  He kisses me deeply, earnestly, like he’s making up for lost time. I arch my back and unclasp my own bra, tossing it away over the railing. Harrison rips himself away from his kiss and lets his eyes take in the sight of me, sprawled topless on the stairs before him. It’s too much for the man to handle. He cups my ass in his strong hands and pulls me toward him, popping open the button of my jeans with one flick of the wrist.

  Harrison slides my jeans and panties down my legs, and all at once I’m naked before him. I pull myself up to sitting on the smooth wooden staircase, shuddering at the illicit feel of letting him see me here. As many times as we’ve had each other, each moment with Harrison still feels new. I can feel my clit throbbing, aching for want of him as he whips open his belt and discards his jeans and briefs.

  “God, baby...” I whisper, my eyes latched onto the staggering length of him, “How do I ever even manage to take you?”

  “I have my ways,” he grins, kneeling on the steps before me.

  I cry out as he lowers his mouth to my wet slit in one quick motion. My mind spins as I feel his tongue part my pink flesh, licking along the whole of me.

  “Oh...Harrison...,” I gasp.

  He presses my knees back, opening me to him even more. I groan as his lips close around my hard clit, sucking at the tight little bundle and sending ripples of sensation through my entire body. I buck my hips against his masterful mouth, wanting nothing but to feel as much of him as I can.

  “I love making you feel good, Siena,” he growls, tracing tight little circles all around that aching button. “I love knowing that I can make you come in an instant.”

  “I hope you take longer than that,” I gasp, “I wish we could stay like this forever.”

  “So do I,” he says, running his fingertips across my sensitive inner thighs, “The things we would get up to...”

  My legs begin to tremble at the mere thought of it. I let my knees fall open, right there on the staircase.

  “Come here,” I command, grabbing onto his hips and pulling him toward me.

  He raises himself up to me, kissing me hard as he poises his stiff member against me. I let out an ecstatic moan as he drives into me, pinning me down onto the hardwood stairs. I wrap my arms around his shoulders as he sinks deeper, wasting no time at all. Again and again we press into each other, bucking wildly there on the stairs. I bite my lip as I feel him going deeper and deeper, parting me on his hard, pulsating rod.

  Daringly, I swing my legs up over his shoulders, a feat that surprises even me. Harrison pauses a moment, amazed, looking down at me with hunger and wonder both. I tilt my hips up, balancing against his sturdy body. I’ve never had a man like Harrison, and certainly never like this. I take a deep breath and wait to feel him again.

  “Jesus!” I gasp, as Harrison pounds into me, “How can you go so deep? I can feel you all the way through me.”

  “I love seeing you like this,” he groans, pulling me ever closer to him, “I swear, Siena, you’ve got me right on the edge...”

  “I’m there too,” I tell him, planting my hands on his rock hard abs, “I want to come with you, baby...”

  “The way you talk...” he says, his eyes closing in bliss.

  “But, I want to see it,” I tell him, leveling my dizzy gaze at him, “Come on my stomach. My chest.”

  “Are you sure?” Harrison asks, his teeth gritted.

  “I’m sure,” I breathe, “Please...”

  Harrison leans into me, my legs pressed up. He rears back and barrels up into me, colliding with that spot inside that is the key to my bliss. A huge roiling wave of sensation crashes over me, and I scream out my ecstasy to the high ceilings above us. A low groan rips out of Harrison’s throat, and I feel him slip out of me. A gushing warmth spills across my belly and breasts, covering me. I let my head fall back against the stairs as we lose ourselves to each other, succumbing to this most intense of moments.

  His body relaxes against mine on the stairs. For the longest time, we can’t bear to say a thing. Finally, he turns to me, the corners of his mouth lifted into a smile.

  “Guess we should get you cleaned up?” he says.

  “Only if you carry me,” I moan.

  “That can be arranged,” he says.

  In one swift motion, he’s caught me up in his arms. Harrison carries me up the stairs like a bride over the threshold.

  “Where are we going?” I ask dreamily.

  “I have a marble bath tub with your name on it,” he tells me.

  “Dear god,” I moan, “You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?”

  “Only in the most humane way possible,” he laughs, and carries me up and away.

  Epilogue...

  The next weeks unfolds just the way we planned it. We turn our phones on vibrate, leave the computers shut down, and simply enjoy each other. In every way. Sure, there’s the occasional take out order, but for the most part it’s just me and Harrison—enjoying some long overdue privacy at last.

  The time winks by in a heartbeat, and soon our week is over. McClain’s told Harrison that his new car will be ready today, and he has to get up to start practicing. I roll out of bed as the sun comes up and put coffee on in the kitchen. Already, this place is starting to feel like home. I’ve resolved to visit Italy for a couple of days this week to check on my dad, so I relish every minute of his new morning routine. Harrison hasn’t even stirred yet when I set the French press to boil and head over to the front door to grab the newspaper.

  I wonder if we should have scones or biscuits for breakfast, I muse sleepily, pulling my robe around me as I step out onto the porch.

  A blinding blaze of flashbulbs assaults my eyes the moment I swing open the heavy, wooden front door of Harrison’s town house. For a moment, I’m paralyzed, unable to move a muscle. Camped out in front of Harrison’s home, our home, are two dozen reporters and photographers, each screaming over the rest.

  “Miss Lazio!”

  “Over here, Siena!”

  I can’t stop staring out at the unexpected swarm of press. Can’t put one foot in front of the other to beat a quick retreat inside.

  “Siena, do you feel you’ve betrayed Team Ferrelli by having an affair with Harrison Davies?”

  “Miss Lazio, do you know who took the pictures that have been plastered all over the papers today?”

  I stoop to pick up today’s newspaper, and sure enough, there we are. Front page, above the crease: me and Harrison, a half dozen photos of us. A goddamn collage, really, tracing our entire relationship so far. And above the photos, the headline reads, “Romeo and Juliet of Formula One Tangled in Tawdry Tryst”.

  I feel a strong hand yanking me back over the doorway. The voices of the clamoring reporters are silenced as Harrison slams the front door s
hut. He grabs the newspaper away from me, looking down at the headline in horror.

  “They’ve found us...” he breathes, eyes glued to the front page.

  “How much do you think they know?” I ask, fearfully.

  Harrison opens the paper, and a full two-page spread featuring the two of us is revealed. We trade bewildered glances, entirely at a loss.

  “I’m guessing they know plenty,” he says quietly.

  I can’t look away from Harrison’s blue eyes as the reporters call and shout for us outside.

  “What are we going to do?” I ask, my voice trembling.

  But for once, neither of us has the slightest idea.

  FASTER LONGER

  BOOK THREE

  Prologue

  Harrison Davies’ home in London, the weekend of the Luxembourg Grand Prix...

  The air is heavy with aromatic steam, rising off the bath like a thick cloud in the flickering candlelight. I pad across the cool tile floor, moving across the cavernous room to the stately marble bathtub. Harrison sits on the edge of the inlaid tub, trailing his fingers through the hot water. Not a stitch of clothing obscures his perfectly balanced, deliciously built body. His tattoos stand out against his tan skin in the dim light, scrawled as they are across his firm chest, broad shoulders, and sculpted arms. I let my eyes wander down along the hard panes of his chest, the rippling expanse of defined abs, the perfect muscular v of his hips...and of course, that gorgeous length between his legs that I’ve come to know so well.

  “Siena Lazio,” he says, swinging his bright blue eyes my way, “Are you checking me out over there?”

  “Shamelessly,” I smile.

  “You still like what you see?” he asks, opening his arms wide.

  “More than ever,” I tell him.

  “Come on over here, would you? The water’s great,” he says, standing up.

  I always forget how staggeringly tall my man really is. I’m a statuesque lady myself, and Harrison still has nearly a foot on me. He turns and steps into the huge marble bath, sinking down into the steaming water. I would not have pegged Harrison Davies for the candles and bath salts type when we first met, but he continues to surprise me every day. My man can go from devil-may-care bad boy to sensual lover as quickly as his F1 car goes from zero to two hundred miles per hour. I can only imagine what other secret elements there are to Harrison, sides of him that no one but me will ever know.