Wreckless

by Katie Golding

  9

  Elliston LAMBIRTH

  24.822

  70

  8

  8

  Donato MALDONADO

  28.431

  71

  9

  7

  Galeno GIRÓN

  39.616

  79

  10

  6

  Cesaro SOTO

  44.094

  62

  11

  5

  Deven HORSLEY

  52.713

  101

  12

  4

  Cristiano ARELLANO

  1’09.446

  132

  13

  3

  Mason KING

  1’27.897

  173

  14

  2

  Fredek SULZBACH

  1’46.521

  61

  15

  1

  Harleigh ELIN

  1’53.729

  63

  Not Classified

  Gregorio PAREDES

  3 Laps

  78

  Gustavo LIMÓN

  7 Laps

  35

  Aurelio LOGGIA

  15 Laps

  79

  Timo GONZALES

  16 Laps

  42

  Not Finished First Lap

  Diarmaid DEAN

  0 Lap

  41

  Chapter 23

  Massimo Vitolo—November; Valencia, Spain

  Lorina yawns on my shoulder for the third time as I toy with the room key in my hand, watching the numbers go by too slowly as the lift climbs. Asia was brutally exhausting—bouncing from Thailand to Japan to Australia and back to Malaysia before we booked it to Memphis for an early Thanksgiving with her parents. Which went very, very well, as far as I’m concerned.

  I have officially been green-lit.

  I cross one ankle over the other, dropping a kiss to her hair. “So you think Frank and Vinicio are going to go to dinner?” I ask just to keep her awake. I’m too tired to carry her plus our bags to the room; she’s gonna have to walk tonight. Lorina shrugs. “What do you think they talk about when they are alone, hmm?”

  She groans and rolls off my shoulder, propping one foot on the wall behind her. “Probably scheduling. Or food. Maybe comparing our financial value as racers.”

  “Interessante,” I drawl as the lift comes to a stop, waiting for Lorina to head out into the corridor before me. “How much do you think I can trade Dabria to keep you? I think maybe four goats is sufficiente.”

  She narrows her eyes my direction. “Four? Four goats?”

  “Sì, quattro,” I tell her. “You cannot be very smart.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You misspell your own nickname. Reckless is supposed to be with an R, not a W.”

  Lorina rolls her eyes, yawning again as she says into her palm, “It’s a pun, genius.”

  I stop in front of the room, attempting to unlock the door. “Bene. But we were not even together, and you let me cut your hair in a bathroom.”

  She sighs, stealing the room card from me and swiping it when I can’t get it to make the green light. “That was stupid.” She gets it open on her second try.

  “Maybe I think you are worth five goats,” I say, Lorina ducking under my arm as I hold open the door. “You are the fastest woman alive on a moto.”

  “Fastest woman, yes.” She heads straight for the bathroom, flipping on the light. She’s already got the sink running to wash her hands by the time I’m unzipping her backpack and taking out Tigrotta, tossing her up by the pillows on the bed. “As for the fastest racer, I’m still tied for third place.”

  I nod to myself as I pull out clean clothes for her to sleep in, then unfold my hanging bag, putting away my dress shirts, emergency tux, and Lorina’s sundresses that she’s taken to packing in my bag instead of folding in her duffel.

  She’s tied for third place behind Billy King. And so am I. Meaning if she’s going to make the podium for World Champion and keep her contract with Dabria, she has to beat me at Valencia. And with Angelo more pissed off than ever that I’m still refusing to break up with Lorina, I can’t afford to lose.

  I absolutely won’t lose her, and I’m prepared to do whatever’s necessary to make sure we survive. I always will, and I’m ready. I think she is too. Her mom says she is.

  We’ll see.

  “Third?” I repeat, pretending to be shocked as I unpack the last of our stuff. We’ll be in this hotel for a week before we transition to the paddock, and I refuse to live in wrinkled clothes I’m digging out of bags. “You are tied for third place behind the leader?”

  “Mm-hmm.” The sink shuts off. “But that’s gotta be worth something, right?”

  I grab our bags of toiletries, then head into the bathroom, stopping behind her. “In that case,” I drawl, setting the bags on the counter, “maybe I will pay to keep you: three goats.”

  Lorina gives me a look in the mirror that might have worked if I hadn’t been raised Catholic. Instead, I shrug off the guilt trip with a smile, hugging my arm over her chest and dropping my chin to her shoulder.

  “So angry,” I tease in Italian. “What are you going to do, Tigrotta? Make me sleep on the floor?”

  She grabs her toiletry bag and digs through it, but she has a hard time hiding the smile in her voice as she responds in country-twanged Italian. “That was once, and I…um”—she wrinkles her nose as she concentrates, conjugating under her breath before she says—“I slept on the floor, not you.”

  “Nope. I slept on the floor with you.”

  Lorina pauses, her head turning toward me. “Really?” she says in English.

  “For a little bit. Then I realized it was ridiculous, and I took you back to bed.”

  Lorina laughs as I drop a kiss on her neck, then let her go so I can turn on the shower.

  “That reminds me…” She massages into her hands something that smells a little bit like lemon and a lot like home. “Chiara called while you were asleep in wherever we were when we missed our connection. She says hi, everything is good with her new waitressing job, but the pipes in the bathroom are making that chewing, gurgling sound again.”

  “Bene,” I say, but it’s more of a sigh than anything else. “Tell her I will call someone domani.” I ditch my shirt on the floor, debating. I hate paying people to fix stuff I can do myself. “Actually, she can live with it for another week. Tell her I will take care of it when we go home to Ravenna.”

  “Like hell she has to live with that.” Lorina tucks her bottle of lotion into her bag. “I’ll call the plumber.”

  I wrinkle my nose mockingly, then start
unbuckling my belt. Lorina doesn’t know it yet, but I’m taking her to see the house next week. I’ve got an appointment with the real estate agent to meet us out there. I’m gonna take her for a ride, and we’re going. My mother is so thrilled at the prospect that she’s turned no less than six corners overnight, and she’s already asked Lorina to have lunch with her when we get back to Ravenna. Lorina thinks she’s planning a hit on her.

  But we need a place that’s just for us when we come home, and she deserves a space that’s hers. Totally and completely hers. It’s time—way past time—and her parents agreed with me from top to bottom about the whole thing, so that’s that.

  The only problem I foresee with any of this, besides Lorina being difficult for the sake of being difficult, is whatever happened in Germany. We’ve talked about everything else since then—Gabriele, my past with Chiara, my subsequent arrest record, hiding her helmet and swearing I’ll never make decisions like that again—everything. But when I asked why she went to Munich, all she said was that it was a test. That when she knew something, I’d know something.

  She’s testing me all right.

  Lorina clears her throat. “I also gave Mason’s phone number to Chiara.”

  I lose my balance while stepping out of my jeans, having to catch myself on the wall.

  Lorina stares at me. “Wow. Overprotective much?”

  I fling my traitorous jeans out of the bathroom. “Do not start. You know I do not care who she dates. But Mason King is an ass.”

  “Thank you for proving my point. And no, he’s not.” Lorina leans against the counter, crossing her arms. “He’s usually really nice, and kinda goofy. Besides, he likes her, and she likes him, and they like all the same stuff…”

  I wave my hand, at a loss for words. “Disgusting.”

  I really don’t care who Chiara is with, as long as it’s someone not just after her ass and who will actually support her so she can do all the weird stuff she wants to do. She’s been through enough crap for more than one lifetime, and just as Lorina deserves to have her moto career without being threatened every five seconds, Chiara should get what she wants—the one thing I could never give her.

  But not with Mason King.

  “I don’t know why you have to be so against this,” Lorina says. “Chiara really likes him.”

  I chuckle off the rest of the argument I already know I’m not gonna win, testing the temperature of the water in the shower. “Bene. When am I supposed to start sleeping on the floor, cara?”

  “We…” She pulls her phone out of her pocket, sighing. “Can’t go to sleep for at least two hours or we’re gonna be screwed by jet lag.” She tosses her phone on the counter. “Wanna raid the minibar and play Never Have I Ever until one of us passes out?” She flashes me a tight smirk before she starts to stomp out of the bathroom, but I catch her quick.

  “No,” I drawl, hugging my arms around her. “You are going to take a shower with me.”

  She lets me turn her back into the bathroom but still grumbles under her breath, “Why? So you can steal all the hot water and make me stand in the back where it’s cold?”

  “Not tonight,” I promise. “Tonight, you can have as much hot water as you like.”

  Lorina stops, turning to face me. “You’re officially starting to worry me. What did you do?”

  I sneak my fingertips under the hem of her shirt, skimming her stomach. “Niente.” Once her shirt falls to the floor, I shift my weight, my mouth twisting with guilt as I start to undo the button on her jeans. “But maybe I got Tigrotta’s tail stuck in the zip when I closed your backpack this morning.”

  “Oh,” she drawls, but there’s a hint of a chuckle in there. “So that’s what’s going on.”

  “Mm-hmm.” I smooth the denim over her hips, snagging the cotton of her panties on my way past and bringing them along for the ride down her thighs.

  After she steps out of her jeans, I leave a kiss on her bare stomach, hugging my arms around her waist for a moment, because it still hits me sometimes: how dangerously close I came to losing her. How lucky I am that she forgave me and let us try again.

  Lorina draws her nails through my hair, and I squeeze her once more before I rise, tickling my fingertips over her waist and around to her back, undoing the clasp on her bra. I only let myself kiss her twice before I take her hand and escort her into the shower, letting her have the first of the hot water—as I promised—while I get rid of my boxer briefs as fast as humanly freaking possible.

  When I join her a second later, all I want to know is the glint of sparkle from my father’s chain around her neck, to revel in the sweet slip of her skin against mine. But when I sweep her hair to the side, kissing each little space between her neck and shoulders, all I feel is tension in her muscles.

  I don’t know if there’s a way to calm her down about the coming race, but I’m gonna give it my best shot. She needs to sleep tonight, and she said we have to wait two hours…

  “So much stress, Tigrotta,” I whisper as I squeeze the tops of her arms, her body melting against mine. She hums something I can’t make out as I massage my way down to her wrists, then gather enough soap that my palms glide easily over the planes of her stomach, across the curves of her hips, and up to the gentle weight of her breasts. She’s so goddamn sexy, and my fingertips happily follow the trail of soapy water dripping down to the top of her thigh, then daring farther inside where she’s soft and smooth and deliciously silky.

  Lorina giggles as I tickle a little closer to my goal, but it melts into a moan when I get my first taste of her heat on my fingers, my lips trailing across her shoulder and unable to resist kissing every delicious inch of her.

  Her arm comes back, her nails combing through my hair, and with only a warning nip to her shoulder, I sink a long finger into her. Once, then twice, Lorina moaning deeply and hugging my knuckles below, and Christ, she feels so good.

  Fuck it—I need her.

  I nip at her shoulder again, then bite her hard enough that I owe her a kiss for it. But she’s soft and compliant as I turn us around, my hand cupping her thigh and guiding her legs apart so she rests her foot on the edge of the tub. My lovely Lorina simply smiles over her shoulder and stretches her arms up the back wall of the shower, arching a little more for me.

  God, I love this woman.

  I take a minute just to enjoy the view of her wet and dripping with water, running my palms down her sides, her back, over the curves of her ass and up to her breasts. But Lorina is impatient and tilts her ass back against me, the head of my cock slipping to where she’s silky and ready, and it knows exactly how to find the sweetest part of her.

  I hug my arm around her chest, nuzzling a kiss onto her neck. “Ti amo,” I whisper.

  She covers my arm with hers.

  I drive into her fast, slamming into her hard and harder as she gasps in pleasure, her hands failing to find purchase on the wet shower wall, but I’ve got her.

  I fist my hand in her hair and tug her head back, biting kisses onto her neck as she claims me even tighter inside, and I tweak her nipple and push my palm down her stomach, below her hips and between her legs, cupping her clit and my fingers ready to claim their finish.

  It doesn’t take me long to craft her orgasm, her body trembling more with every tighter circle I draw around her clit, fucking her rougher as her moans and gasps swirl around me until I’ve got her there and she breaks—wave after wave, pulse after pulse, tighter and stronger as I push her to ride it longer, fearlessly. Recklessly.

  It’s over too soon. She’s up and down, already waving me off and leaning against the wall for support. I pull out and turn her toward me, kissing the hell out of her with everything I’ve got, with everything I feel. I don’t stop until she’s breathing hard but is soft in my arms, her leg drawing easily over my hip so I can rest her foot on the edge of the tub once again.

/>   I’ve got other tricks up my sleeve.

  “Massimo?”

  I pause instantly at the worry in her voice, at the fear in my Tigrotta who claims to be fearless, and I hold her body a little more securely in my hands as I look at her. I already know: whatever this is, it has nothing to do with me and everything to do with what’s being done to us.

  She strokes her thumb over my cheek, her palm shivering against my jaw as she tightens her other arm around my neck, hugging herself tighter to me. “Tell me it’s going to be okay.”

  Her voice is the kind of private she rarely uses even when we’re this alone, and my forehead falls against hers, the water of the shower raining brutally down.

  The words are right there. The promise that I’ll do everything I can to make sure all her decisions in life will be simple and that she has everything she’s ever dreamed of having. But this isn’t the moment, and even though I wish I could, I can’t promise her those things.

  I can’t promise that after Valencia, she’s going to keep her contract or that I’m going to keep mine. All I know is that I love her. I’ve always loved her, and so I do the only thing I can. I kiss her and hope that when I try to fix it, she’s finally going to let me.

  Eleven times I’ve asked her, and she’s never said yes.

  Chapter 24

  Lorelai Hargrove—November; Valencia, Spain

  My legs tingle with the climb up the empty Valencia stadium, the sun setting at my back and the note he left for me to meet him folded safely in my pocket. I don’t know what this is about when our schedule has been packed with prerace prep every minute of every day, and it’s all coming down to tomorrow. The final race that determines everything about where we’re going to spend the next years of our lives.

  But there Massimo is: sitting on the very top row of the grandstands, eating ice cream out of a cup like he’s got all the time in the world.

  “Been waiting long?” I ask once I stop beside him. He shrugs. I step onto the bench in front of him, hopping down on the opposite side of his legs before I sit. He doesn’t say anything, just continuing to rest his elbows on his knees and swirling the ice cream with the tip of his spoon.