High Octane

by Ashlinn Craven

  “You’re both gorgeous blondes. I mean, she was and you are and … ”

  Shut up, Maddux. You’re making it worse.

  Her brows lifted at that. “Gorgeous? Very generous,” she said drily. The corner of her mouth tilted up and he saw a flash of the woman he laughed with through Asia and Russia. Something sparked between his synapses.

  Good God. I’m in love with her. The I-can’t-be-happy-if-she’s-not-happy, head-over-heels, future-be-damned, can’t-live-without-her kind of love.

  She looked up at him, and his heart clenched at the anguish on her face. “My career is … ” Her voice broke and she clamped shaking lips together.

  He gave her hand a shake. “Since when is success the only thing that matters? You taught me there’s a lot more to life than, how did you put it? Oh yeah. ‘A good outcome.’ And Belamar’s still alive, isn’t he? Although I’m not sure you did the world a favor keeping that son of a bitch from his grave.”

  Her lips twitched despite her tear-bright eyes, shining in the dark room.

  His eyes searched hers. “You were true to who you are, and screw anyone who thinks otherwise.”

  “I’m ashamed,” she said quietly. “That people think … that I’m, oh my God, Maddux,” she said in horrified tones, “you should see what’s being said online.”

  “Don’t read that crap. Never, ever read your own press, rookie.” He gave her shoulder a little shake. “That’s the first rule of being in the public eye.”

  Her eyes searched his. “Even if I can’t get a job? Even if this Dr. Anna thing follows me around for the rest of my life?”

  “You and I both know there a plenty of places in this world where a hematologist oncologist of your caliber is needed. If the Gates Institute or Jepp’s group don’t recognize that, fuck them. Fuck all of them, Brynn. You know who you are.”

  She nodded, still holding his gaze, her fingers tightening around his palm. “But you know what the worst part is?”

  He shook his head. He thought the Anna Nicole thing was pretty bad.

  “The worst part is that there are people, people who know me, who believe I’m capable of that. Of getting involved with a seventy-year-old man, and then cheating on him with you. Even you ... ”

  The pain in her brown eyes, even in the darkness of the room, seared him.

  “A mistake,” he said, through a throat hoarse with remorse. “A terrible mistake in judgment.”

  Brynn watched him with serious eyes. “I’m going to get some water,” she said, swinging her long legs over the side of the mattress. His eyes dropped to the front of her white cotton sleep dress where the word “love” was written across her breast in metallic silver script. She followed his gaze and grimaced, climbed out of bed, and trekked to the bathroom a few feet away.

  Love.

  For fuck’s sake.

  • • •

  Brynn entered the bathroom, switched on the light, and closed the door, narrowing her eyes against the sudden brightness.

  He was here.

  Someone had apparently neglected to tell her heart that he was the cause of the pain, not the cure, because it was dancing around in her chest, making her breathless. She’d never been great at setting emotional boundaries, not with patients and not in relationships, but it was time to try. This man had shown her a few times now that he was willing to believe the worst about her.

  She leaned against the counter and stared into her pale, exhausted reflection, her eye radiating something other than fatigue and despair. Hope. Could she do this? Could she forgive him and let him back into her heart when he’d taken a mallet to it, squashing it, bruising it until it was difficult to breathe, difficult to get up in the morning, difficult to get through the day?

  Everything was wrong about him—his profession, his age, his lifestyle, not to mention his past. Logic dictated that she accept his apology, or try to, and send him on his way. She put her shoulders back and narrowed her eyes against the hope gleaming in them.

  “I accept your apology. Now go away,” she whispered to her reflection, ignoring the stab of agony those words sparked.

  She opened the door to the bathroom, and there he was sitting on the queen-sized bed against the headboard, shoes and socks off but otherwise fully clothed. She left the light on and climbed back into the bed, sitting on her heels facing him.

  “Maddux, I accept your apology, but I think it’s best if we go our separate ways.”

  His eyes narrowed. “And which way is that?” he asked.

  Her temper rose, taking her by surprise. “Don’t ask me,” she said, stiffly. “I’m unemployed.”

  “So am I. After Abu Dhabi.”

  “What?”

  “Supernova is waiting until the end of the season to kill my contract. They’re furious but not stupid. And any publicity is good, I guess. My name, my marketability has never been better. My agent told me some reality TV show about bachelors called. I told Belamar what he could do with his team, though I’m sure you would tell me it’s an anatomical impossibility.”

  A sound between a gasp and a groan escaped her. “But Supernova dropped you—you won’t have a ride, unless another team … ”

  He shook his head.

  “Why did you turn Belamar down?”

  “You can ask me that? After what he did to you?”

  “But … your racing career, the money … ” she sputtered.

  “There are things in life more important, namely you, Brynn Douglas. I love you.”

  Hope ignited once again and she gave her head a shake.

  “You love me?” she echoed. Should she give herself a precordial thump? Her heart seemed to have slowed to a stop.

  “I love you, and if you don’t feel the same—”

  “I do,” she said, wonderingly.

  “—give me time and I’ll make you. What?”

  “I love you, Maddux.” She met his gaze, bright and steady.

  “Can you forgive me for believing the worst?” he asked in a shaky voice.

  “Yes. Who set you straight? Not Belamar.”

  “Ellen Carstairs,” he said.

  “You met her? Belamar told me she hand-picked me.”

  “She’s an admirer of yours,” he said.

  “Are you teasing me?”

  “No. She got me pretty fired up. I reamed out Belamar, turned down his offer, and got the hell out of there to come find you. She gave me your address.”

  She stared at him. “How would she even know that?” She grabbed her phone from the dresser. “I deleted that stupid app.”

  “What app?”

  “The ‘friend’ locater Belamar must’ve put on my phone when we arrived in the States.”

  “So that’s how he found us at Blue Cave.”

  “I’m assuming.” She flipped through the screens on her phone. “Not here. I did delete it. I wonder how she knew?”

  “I’m starting to think that woman knows everything.”

  “What now?” she mused.

  He pulled her hips down until she was horizontal, gazing up at him in the darkness.

  “Now?” he whispered, lowering his head to hers, covering her with his body. “Now you let me start making it up to you.”

  “You feel good,” she murmured, her hands stroking his body shoulder to thigh, lingering to yank his hips hard against her. She tugged on his shirt. Wait. What was this? She leaned back on one arm, taking him in. “Maddux,” she peered at the shirt in the dark room. “Is that a Hawaiian shirt?”

  “No babe, this is the Hawaiian shirt,” he muttered, busily working her out of her cotton nightdress. “It probably smells like coach.”

  “Coach?”

  “I took the first flight I could get.”

  She giggled. “You must really love me to put up with coach.”

  He smiled back, leaning toward her to whisper, “You don’t know the half of it. They put me in a middle seat.”

  She put a hand to his chin, lifting it, drawing his at
tention. “You poor, poor, man,” she whispered against his lips, her tongue darting out, licking into his mouth. The hand gripping her waist tightened with near bruising force while the other slid up her thigh slowly, teasing, sending her body clamoring with anticipation.

  Maddux froze. “Oh my God.”

  “What?”

  “I can’t believe it. This must be the first time in my life I don’t have a fucking condom.” His voice rose on a shout.

  “Shhh,” Brynn clapped a hand over his mouth. She glanced at the clock. Just after midnight in Washington, DC, there was probably a convenience store still open. “I’m kinda glad you don’t have one.”

  A frown creased his brow “Why?”

  “It means you weren’t overconfident.”

  He laughed. “Brynn, I was ready to crawl on my belly if that’s what it took to get you back. After what I said and did, I consider myself lucky to have found someone capable of forgiveness.”

  Something hit the door, hard.

  “What the hell was that?” Maddux said, sitting up.

  Andy’s muffled voice came through the wooden door. “Be safe, kiddo. I’m headed to Josh’s.”

  Footsteps retreated outside the door and moments later the door slammed below. Maddux crawled out of the bed to open the bedroom door.

  “Condoms,” he said. “Was he listening?”

  “No, I think he stuck around to escort you out if needed, but you did shout about the condoms.”

  “Who’s Josh?”

  “His boyfriend. I swear this is the first time he’s spending the night over there. Andy says his place is a pit.” She giggled.

  “You have nice friends,” he said, staring at her.

  She knelt on the center of the bed, nude and shivering despite the warmth of the room. Maddux tossed the condoms on the bed and came over, stripping off his shirt and jeans, shucking his black boxer briefs.

  He stood in front of her, his gaze locked on hers, then stroked one shaking hand down the front of her body, stopping to cup one breast in his hand, his long fingers toying with first one pebbled tip, then the other. She clenched her thighs together, biting her lip to hold back a moan. Never breaking eye contact, he ran his warm palm down over her stomach, as her muscles there twitched and fluttered.

  He pushed her thighs apart, watching her closely as his hand moved over her, his fingers sure as he teased, sliding one finger into her; her body clenched involuntarily and he drew in a sharp breath. Another finger joined the first as his thumb circled her clit. She was desperate to pull him on top of her, to cease the torment and join their bodies. But there was something here, watching him pleasure her, memorizing the angles of his face, taut with desire. She wanted desperately to close her eyes, anything to break the unbearable intimacy of this moment. Her body throbbed against his hand as his fingers continued to pulse into her body and he stroked her, waiting. She was too far gone to feel embarrassed or self-conscious, her entire body focused on the expert movements of his hand. Her eyes widened, her hips moving, bucking into his hand, until she came with a low cry. It was the most shockingly intimate orgasm of her life.

  Maddux reached for the condom box, ripped the rubber out of the packaging with impatient hands. She took it from him, rolling it over his broad, silken tip, smoothing it down the thick shaft. He pushed her back until she lay diagonally across the sheets, shoved her lethargic legs apart, and entered her with a thrust that pressed her hips deep into the soft mattress. She grunted in surprise, her body slick but swollen from her orgasm, his rough entry almost too much. He levered himself up on his arms, staring down at her, out of control with pumping into her. She wrapped her legs around his hips and surged up to meet his thrusts. His eyes were wild and glassy, but they never dropped from hers as he shuddered into her and came shouting, “Brynn, ah God, Brynn.”

  Chapter 21

  This Brazilian course, the Grande Premio Petrobras do Brasil, was special. It was the home course of his idol, Ayrton Senna. He’d always admired Senna’s no-holds- barred racing style, watched countless hours of his races to pick them apart, turn by turn. The best racing driver the world had ever seen was killed during an F1 race in Italy. Racing in Brazil, Maddux was well aware of Senna’s legacy on every turn, on every straightaway.

  But this time, with the end of his own racing career in sight, he paid attention to what Senna had left behind. Shortly after the legend’s death, it was discovered he had donated hundreds of millions of dollars to what would become an organization dedicated to Brazilian children. With Brynn in tow, Maddux visited the foundation.

  His gut clenched. Two seasons were not enough for any driver. Formula One was a long term endeavor and now that this race was complete, he had only one more, Abu Dhabi. Rarely did everything line up—the car, the course, the tires, the driver—the way it had last year. But he’d been racing long enough to have hope that next season, everything could come together again.

  But there would be no next season.

  No one, particularly sponsors, knew what to believe about Maddux Bates anymore. Was he the risk-loving daredevil who had stolen Ronan Hawes’s girlfriend last season along with the championship? Was he the man who stole the girlfriend of a geriatric billionaire while sipping Fizzbang on a blanket in Texas? Or was he the doting boyfriend to said billionaire’s ex?

  He handed his helmet to a crew mate, with a genuine smile. He felt damn good for a man staring at the end of his career.

  He heaved himself out of the car. Sixth place finish, a few slaps on the back. He thanked his team, shook hands, and searched her out where she stood off to the side. The area under his rib cage expanded. So this was joy. He’d thought it was only attainable at the end of a successful season or after winning a race. Instead it came wrapped in a floral sundress wearing sedate flats.

  It didn’t matter anymore what anyone thought of him, of either of them. Brynn embraced him. Knew him, loved him, and saw him for who he was: a boy from Texas thrust onto the international racing circuit and then the world stage who had become a man afraid of losing races, face, and money. He’d become so desperate to hold onto everything, he only recognized what he needed when he lost everything.

  And the only thing he really needed was within reach.

  He turned to find Ellen Carstairs in front of him.

  His smile disappeared.

  She examined him from head to toe. “Only Abu Dhabi left?”

  “Yep.” His drawl was extra thick with her. He pushed the hair out of his eyes.

  “Belamar wants to see you.”

  “He’s not dead yet?”

  She didn’t flinch. Didn’t acknowledge the comment. “He’s at the hotel. He wants to see you—now. This afternoon.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  Her face still expressionless she said, “Bring Brynn,” then turned on her heel and strode away, leaving him staring after her.

  Brynn hurried over. “Was that—?”

  “Ellen Carstairs.”

  “Well, what does she want?”

  “He. Belamar wants to see us. Today.”

  “He’s sick, isn’t he?”

  “Yes.”

  She bit her lip. “I don’t want you to give up what you love for me.”

  “Oh, so it’s okay if I sacrifice my principles, but you get to stick to yours? No way. Brynn, if he could do what he did to you, he’s capable of anything.”

  “Maybe, but still, what could it hurt? And,” her lips twisted, “I’d like to see his blood work.”

  “Brynn, for God’s sake!”

  “He’s a patient, Maddux.”

  “Was a patient. Was.”

  She grabbed for her hat as it started to lift off her head, her lips set in that stubborn line he knew so well.

  He sighed. “Fine.”

  • • •

  Brynn studied Carl Belamar, propped up in the stifling hotel room as dim light came through the partially drawn heavy, amber drapes. “How are you, Carl?”


  “Between stage one and two,” he said. “But they haven’t ruled out the stem cell transplant. Once they get me stabilized, I’m headed to Memorial Sloan-Kettering.”

  She took the chair opposite the bed. “Creatinine?”

  “Still within normal limits.”

  “That’s good news.” Her shoulders sagged with relief.

  “Adams was here,” he said.

  Brynn shook her head. He’d gotten the head of Sloan’s cancer program to pay him a personal visit in Brazil. Probably used the same carrot he’d used with Brynn: a donation. Well, if he messed with that particular bull, he’d get the horns. Adams was well connected to finance in New York.

  She looked behind her. “Where’s Maddux?”

  “Talking to Ellen.”

  “Oh.”

  Belamar grimaced and shifted in the bed. “I need you to do something for me.”

  Brynn stared at him for a moment, then burst into genuine laughter. “Oh, that’s—that’s hilarious. You ruined my life and you want me to do you a favor?”

  “Did I?” His head cocked.

  “I can’t get a job, Belamar!”

  “Well, as Ellen is fond of telling me, a job is not a life. I don’t know how you did it, but you got Maddux Bates wrapped around your finger.”

  “I don’t, but even if I did,” she said, “love doesn’t manipulate.”

  “He won’t drive for me.”

  Brynn watched the numbers on the ECG machine creep up to the outside edge of normal and suppressed a smile. Did he know he was hooked up to one-third of a lie detector test, that his rhythm was broadcasting agitation even if his poker face wasn’t?

  “Is it any wonder? After what you did to him?”

  “It’s not what I did to him, it’s what I did to you.”

  She remained silent.

  “This isn’t about ego. I misjudged him. I thought his self-interest was stronger. I haven’t made up my mind whether that’s going to help or hurt him long-term, but after that race in Austin, I have to have him.”

  The complexes on the monitor picked up speed. Still normal in shape, the rate bumped up a few notches. This was important to him, not that you’d know it from his demeanor. His expression was cool, placid even.