The day of touring passed quickly, and by the time she returned to the penthouse in central Milan, she realized Gregor would be gone for a few more hours still. She flipped open her laptop, mind swirling with notes and ideas, but before she opened up her word processor, she tapped out a quick search: “Formula One crashes.”
She gnawed on her lip at the results loaded, aware of the morbid manner of capping off her invigorating day out on the town. Truth was, she’d been itching to learn more about the dangers actually posed by Gregor’s profession. He’d come clean about the problems last week, but what was he really up against? Maybe he’d downplayed the crash aspect. She’d fought off searching for information, trying instead to just trust him and let it go…but she couldn’t.
Because now, the truth was clear: she’d be devastated if something happened to him.
Blame it on the sex. She blew away some hairs that had fallen over her forehead as she scrolled through the results. Multiple headlines dotted the screen: Worst Formula One Wrecks Ever!!! All Time Worst Crashes F1.
She clicked hesitantly, scared to know just how bad it could get. But after the first video, which featured snippets of the trademark engine whine followed by spectacular and often crunchy wrecks from the driver cam, she’d fallen down the rabbit hole. She couldn’t stop gobbling them up. Each video led to ten more. And by the time Gregor walked in the door, she was near tears.
“Why, hello there!” Gregor sent a smooth grin her way, sauntering toward her in grease stained overalls. His smile fell a moment later, probably when he noticed her face. “Why are you white as a ghost?”
Kara’s stomach somersaulted. She shouldn’t have turned to the internet for more information; that was always the worst idea. Like searching for causes to itchiness could lead to a confident self-diagnosis of cancer, this had been a rapid downward spiral.
She shut her laptop, unsure if she wanted to admit what she’d been doing. “Am I?”
“You look like you’ve stepped into a supermarket full of ghosts.”
She snorted a laugh. “A supermarket of ghosts?” Her heart raced as she tried to put her thoughts in order. What did she even want to say to him about it? “Please. Unless you’re talking a WalMart Supercenter of ghosts, I wouldn’t be fazed.”
He offered a tentative smile, heading her way. “How was your day?”
“Good. The tour was awesome.” Her palms spiked sweaty as she captured the thought jostling around inside her, begging to be heard. I want you to stop racing. Oh God, why did that have to be the thing fighting to get let out?
“I hoped it might be.” He eased onto the stool next to her, squeezing her knee. “Anything else from today?”
His soft voice made her chest tighten. Gregor cared about her. He really did. Moments like these confirmed it. This wasn’t an act anymore. And if that was the case, then she had to be true to herself.
She had to come clean.
* * *
“I think you should stop racing.”
Kara’s words made him blink, they were so preposterous. All he could do was stare at her, let the foreign vowels and consonants settle into him in something resembling speech.
“I’m sorry?” The only words he could think of.
“I’ve—I’ve been doing some research.” She gestured vaguely at her computer. “I just wanted to know more about what you’re up against, what sort of danger there really is.”
Suddenly, the torpidity of his thoughts clarified into a hot rush of emotion. “I’m not ever going to stop racing,” Gregor blurted, retracting his hand from her knee. His neck flared hot, and he stood, looking down at her, daring her to speak.
“You could be seriously injured,” she said quietly. “Not to mention die.”
“Well, so could you, crossing the street,” he shot back, stalking across the living room. He headed for the far wall where an enormous bay window overlooked their neighborhood in Milan. He crossed his arms, staring out at the pedestrians on the street. “Look at them down there. Any one of them could be hit by a taxi. See?”
“Gregor, that’s—”
“Our plane could go down over the ocean,” he went on, each word fueling the next. “A robber could come in here and slit our throats in our sleep. I could be standing on the wrong street corner just as a parade float runs over me and turns me into a creepy little corpse during the Christmas festival.” He turned to her, nostrils flaring. “Shall I go on?”
Concern shone on her face, but she didn’t respond. Her silence rankled him further. What right did she have to impose her values and wishes on his life? Especially after how hard he tried to support her goals and passions. She can’t even do the same for me. This is ridiculous.
“I’m my own person. I live my life on my terms, Kara. To hell with anyone who thinks otherwise.” He dragged a hand through his hair, staring out at the pedestrians below.
“Yeah, but it’s not just you in your life anymore. You know?” Her voice was edged with something, which made him turn to face her.
“Who else is there?” he demanded.
“Me.” Her eyebrows were drawn together, like the word itself had injured her.
He scoffed. “Our relationship is an act. What do you care if I die?”
As soon as he said the words, he realized it had been a mistake. Hurt seared her features, tugged her mouth down at the corners, made those big brown eyes fill with doubt.
“That’s not fair,” she said, her voice wavering.
“But it’s true. Isn’t it?” His words hammered inside his head. Maybe it was true, but only on a technicality. It had started as an act, he should have said. Because now… But he plunged ahead. “You can’t argue that.”
“It isn’t…” She gave a pained sigh. “That doesn’t mean I can’t worry about you.”
Silence filled the room, coiling long and tense between them. She was quiet for so long that the air began to ring between his ears. What could he say? There was nothing more to add.
“Is that it then?” His words sounded brash and strange after their tense pause.
“No.” She sniffed, tucking some hair behind her ear. “Here’s the real reason I don’t want you to race.” She hesitated, glancing up to meet his gaze. “I want to be with someone special. I had started to think that maybe that was you.”
Gregor studied the carpet, letting her words coat him before he decided on a reaction.
“And more than that, I want honesty in a relationship. Real or fake. I don’t want you to die. I care about you, so much. Way more than I probably should.” Her laughter came out sharp and short. “I don’t want to lose you, if you can believe that.”
Gregor clenched and unclenched his jaw, not trusting himself to look her in the eye. His chest hurt but he fought to keep a level head. To keep this about business, just as it should be. Like it had started out.
“Well—” he began, but he couldn’t go on. The words he’d instructed himself to use—Of course we’d grow close after so much time in tight quarters, we’re like good friends—seemed somehow crass. Good friends wasn’t even the start of it. They were something much more than that.
“I just want to know,” she said, “what you feel for me.” Her words rang more like pleading than a request. “Please, just be honest with me. I’ll stay no matter what you say. This doesn’t affect our arrangement. I just…need to know.”
Gregor sighed, pressing the ridge of his palm between his eyes. When had this gotten complicated? And yet, she wasn’t wrong to want to know this. Deep inside, his heart ached at the request. There was a confession brewing inside him; he just couldn’t find the words to express it.
“I think about you all the time,” he said finally, his voice sounding meek in the bustling quiet of her attention. “Constantly, actually. I care about you. Too much, as well. All I know is that I’m glad you’re in my life. I don’t want to change this. I don’t…want anyone else.”
Saying the words alleviated something inside him, t
hough the how or why of it still eluded him. When he looked up at her, her eyes were brimming with tears.
She nodded. “Okay. That’s good.”
“Good.”
They watched each other for a few moments, smiles growing wider. And then Kara laughed.
“God, you’re a sap,” she said.
“Me? You’re the sappiest tree in the bunch,” he said, sidling over to her, snagging her at the waist. “You’re so sappy they tap you for that delectable syrup you crazy Americans use on your pancakes.”
“Maple syrup,” she clarified, swatting at his hands. “And don’t you compare me to a maple tree. If anything, I’m an elegant rose bush.”
“Thorny as hell,” Gregor agreed, smoothing his lips against her neck.
“Refined and fragrant,” she added, giggling as he moved his kisses to the underside of her jaw.
“I’d like to see this rose open up,” he murmured, tugging her bottom lip with his teeth. “Can I?”
10
Kara stumbled backward into the bedroom, unable to remove her lips from Gregor’s. The man’s kisses were so captivating, even after the thousands they’d shared. Would they ever get old? By all rights they were in the sparkly early stages of a love affair, but still, she wondered: what would this be like in three months? In six? In twelve? What about when it came time to divorce? Would they even want to?
All thoughts whisked away as Gregor eased her back onto the plush king bed in their master suite, the golden afternoon light filtering in to leave streaks on the white down comforter. His mouth drew an invisible map on her skin, trailing hot and moist down the front of her chest. He gently removed her shirt, then continued his private journey: lips exploring under the swell of each breast, tongue drawing a path down the center of her stomach, teeth nipping at the swell of her belly.
With Gregor, it felt like being worshipped. Each kiss was a sign of adoration, his lips charged with something that seared through to her core. Goosebumps flared as he undressed her, reverent and slow, until she was left in panties and nothing else. Gregor stepped out of his clothes quietly, their gazes unbroken. Her breath caught in her throat. Today seemed different. This time was different. In a way she couldn’t even articulate.
Gregor slipped his briefs off, his cock bobbing fat and heavy in front of him. His eyes went to the V of her pussy, as if he was eying up his prey. He climbed onto the bed, his knees leaving a soft indent in the bedspread between her legs.
“You’re so beautiful, Kara.” He traced his fingers up the side of her thigh, making her voice shrivel. He pressed his mouth to her low belly, tongue leaving a wet trail just above her panty line.
“S…So are you,” she forced out, pussy clenching with anticipation. She just wanted him inside her, but she never wanted the delicious torture to end, either.
He tugged at her panties with his teeth, revealing the swell of her pussy. She tensed, watching as he dragged her panties down to midthigh with his teeth then nuzzled between her legs. She gasped, spreading her legs as far as she could with the panties. He gave an appreciative moan and breathed against her crease, flicking a tongue in to meet the expectant nub.
“Oooh, Gregor.” Not being able to splay open was torture. She wanted him to access all of her. Take in every last bit.
“I love to taste you,” he murmured from between her legs. “I could eat you out every day.”
“You almost do,” she breathed.
He gave an evil chuckle, flattening his tongue against her clit. She gasped, legs jerking wide. Rrrrrip. The panties gave way to the pressure of her thighs. She gasped and then burst into laughter when she saw the damage: nearly torn in half.
“Look at what you do to me,” she chided as he tugged the scrap of fabric down her legs. “Gregor the Panty Ruiner.”
“At least I know what my Viking name is now,” he cracked, settling between her legs. He dove in again without warning, suckling and slurping at her, pressing his tongue inside her as deeply as it would go. She writhed beneath him, clutching fistfuls of his hair, the pleasure coiling tightly in her core. How many orgasms would be enough with this man? It seemed the more she had, the more she needed.
“Please,” she whispered. “I want you inside me.”
He grunted from between her legs, sucked on her clit one last time and the disengaged, coming up to meet her at face level. “Your wish is my command, darling.”
Her head spun as he reached for the bedside drawer, his abs jutting out like rocks as he fished the condom out. He sat back on his heels, his smooth, wide chest stealing her attention just as it did every day they found themselves in this position, his tiny pink nipples the size of dimes.
“You have the world’s smallest nipples,” she commented, pinching one as he rolled the condom on.
“But the world’s biggest dick, right?” He winked, easing down on top of her. “Don’t talk about my nipples like that. They’re sensitive.”
She snorted with a laugh, wrapping her arms around his neck as he positioned himself between her legs. “Good. I like my men sensitive.”
He creased a brow, feigning indignance. “How dare you refer to my manly being as sensitive.” He wiggled his hips, his fat cockhead nudging into place. She gasped; it never failed to surprise her
“Sorry,” she whispered with a laugh. “Only your nipples are sensitive then.”
“And my stomach, I guess,” he added after a moment, pressing himself into her. She groaned, loving the stretching sensation, the way that he filled her. She tossed her head back, digging her nails into his back.
“Somehow this conversation is insanely sexy right now,” she gasped.
“It’s because I’m fucking you, darling,” he whispered hot into her ear. And then he started pumping, in and out, his breath coming as sharp puffs at her ear. Kara let out a shuddery sigh, her entire body lighting up. Every hair seemed to stand on end as he worked her, the only sounds filling the room the slick noise of their pounding and little grunts from Gregor. Kara grabbed handfuls of the bedspread, locking her ankles behind his back.
“Yes, darling,” he murmured, hooking a hand under her thigh. “Get up there. Yes. Higher.” She raised her legs as high as she could, pleasure searing through her as he pounded her at the new angle. A strangled cry escaped her, one that surprised even her.
Another evil chuckle from Gregor, sweat at his brow. “I’m close, Kara.”
“Me tooooo,” she moaned, tensing as their rhythm increased. The feel of him buried inside her was too good; she could never last long when he started by eating her out. She grabbed at his forearm, a low moan turning into a shriek as he drove her to climax. Stars burst behind her eyelids; warmth seeped into every limb.
“Ohhh fuck!” She pinched her eyes shut, head tossed back as she came and came and came. Gregor didn’t let up, pounding her into oblivion, until his own release came with an animalistic grunt. He collapsed on top of her with a satisfied sigh, burying his face in the crook of her neck.
“It just keeps getting better,” he murmured, stroking his thumb in lazy patterns along the side of her breast. “Better and better and better.”
Gregor’s words rang in her ears the whole night and essentially haunted her the entire next day. It just keeps getting better and better. He’d never been more right—and somehow, his rightness meant that she had a decision to make.
The big race in Milan was the following Sunday, a mere week away. If she was going to do something to combat his unwillingness to avert death, then she had to step in. Had to, at this point. There was no option, as far as she could see. She wanted this to keep getting better and better, because it would get better, as long as he stayed alive.
But with the admitted engine malfunction he had no intention of fixing? Yeah, that needed to be solved. Instantly.
Kara mulled over this problem every minute of every day, even when she was thinking about other things. She researched as much as she could about Gregor’s company and his grandfather�
�s company. And then she made the call she’d been dreading: Nana.
Kara openly sweated while the phone rang, practicing her words for the umpteenth time in her head. When the cool, refined British woman answered, Kara froze.
“Hello?”
Kara swallowed a knot of fear, and launched into her plan. “H-hello. Nana. This is…Kara. Gregor’s girlfriend. I…I’ve called because there’s something I want to discuss with you. Is now a good time?”
“Certainly. Is everything okay with my grandson?”
She ran her tongue over her bottom lip. “Yes. He’s fine. For now, that is.” She launched into a brief history of his race career and what had happened the previous week during trial runs, outlining everything from the engine malfunction to the statistical likelihood for a crash. When she’d said it all, she made the pitch. “I want to help him fix this engine, but it needs to be fast. He doesn’t want to be out for the season—he’s made that much clear. But for some reason his company can’t accomplish it. Your late husband’s company was at the leading edge in this area…I just wonder if someone from his company can come help find whatever error Gregor’s team might be missing. A two heads better than one sort of thing.”
Her request hung heavy in the air between the countries, and after a few moments Nana murmured quietly. “Well, I think you make quite a valid point. My grandson’s safety is the top priority. Especially with the next race so near.” She paused. “He’s lucky to have such a crafty partner to look after him as you.”
Kara smiled before pushing past the compliment. “So can you help?”
“I’ll speak to the head of the company, see if he can’t organize a team of engineers to fly out to Milan immediately. I’ll ring back when I have more information.”
The Beaumont Brothers: The Complete Series Page 8