High Octane

by Ashlinn Craven

  “You just have to imagine it,” she said, gritting her teeth as she eased herself down onto his rigid cock. His head jerked to the side against the pillow, eyes shut in pleasure.

  “Oh God,” he breathed.

  She sat up and tugged off her T-shirt, but something moved outside the window in her peripheral vision.

  “Oh God!” She pulled herself off him and scrambled off the bed.

  His eyes flew open. “What?”

  “Out there. People.”

  Was this it? Had the paparazzi caught up with her again?

  Chapter 21

  Adam groaned. His system was still thrumming with pre-climax pleasure. He was still hard as hell. He’d been that close to—

  “People outside,” Vivienne hissed again. She clutched up her T-shirt from the bed to cover her breasts.

  Adam sat up. Then he, too, stood.

  “Stay away from the window,” she urged, pulling his arm. She yanked the floral curtains closed just as he got a glimpse of a group of about seven kids loitering in the lane at the back of the garden.

  “Vivienne?” he laughed, pulling the T-shirt away from her chest. “They’re tiny kids.”

  “God, sorry.” She smiled and looked sheepish. “Knee-jerk reaction. I’m so used to being followed by paparazzi.” She peered out through the slit in the curtain again. “Yup, these little guys look to be about six years old; they wouldn’t even understand what we were doing even if they saw.”

  “Did this happen a lot with you and—?”

  “No, just now and again,” she said quickly, her face flaming red. Whether because of embarrassment or lying he couldn’t tell.

  “Are there any compromising pictures or videos of you out there?”

  “No. Nothing like that.” She came to sit on the bed beside him. “In fact, the thing with Maddux? It wasn’t even a … thing.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We didn’t have sexual relations.”

  “No?” This astonishing news blasted through any remnants of politeness he still maintained.

  “And Ronan?”

  “Well, er, that was a normal relationship, or as normal as could be under the media spotlight.”

  Damn. “I see.” So at least Maddux had been platonic. And she’d weathered all this gossip and slander about them? Why?

  “So ... what about you, Adam?” She looked at him earnestly. “What’s your past when it comes to relationships?”

  “Since I came to F1 two years ago, there’s been nobody. I had a tough first season and then the hospital.”

  “No nice Wallonian nurses to look after you?”

  “Some were very nice, but I was stuck to a bed.”

  “That never stopped anyone,” she teased.

  “Maybe I’m a little fussy.” His eyes trailed over her curves as she lay beside him. More than a little fussy in fact. Why sleep with someone you didn’t want to spend the morning after with, the whole day after with, your whole life after with? At least in theory. There had to be that theoretical possibility there, or else he couldn’t do it. With Vivienne, it was there.

  Other women he met around the F1 arena tended to project their own ideas onto him as to what he should be—a playboy, a superstar, or at the other extreme, a strange robotic savant—and they were disappointed when they discovered he was just what it said on the label: a Formula One driver first and foremost. As a result they never got near. Vivienne never deluded herself in that way. She got him. She also seemed to understand there was more underneath.

  She seemed to be happy with his answer because she was smiling again and snuggling into his side. Not for the first time he wondered how in the hell Ronan could have wasted his opportunity with her.

  “What about before that? When you lived in LA?”

  “Yeah.” He looked down at his hands. “My double shift at the garage didn’t leave much time for that. And I drove at night. But now and again I’d meet a girl, yeah. There was a sister of another racer, and a sponsor executive. Didn’t last though. I was somewhat … intense … about my racing career back then, and I had all sorts of money problems, too. If I’m to be honest, Vivienne, I wasn’t great company.”

  He raised his eyes to hers. “This is my time off. My only time off, and this is how I want to spend it … with you. Let’s not talk about the past. It’s not a good place.”

  Just the now mattered. And the theoretical future.

  • • •

  The minute they got to the Spa-Francorchamps circuit three days later, Viv’s Zen bubble of contentment burst. Bruce called Adam, telling him there were complications with the rear wheels’ suspension, and he got stuck into testing that on the circuit. She didn’t see or hear from him for the rest of the day. What a bucket of cold water after the luxury of a mini-break. But such was a driver’s life. And a driver’s girlfriend’s life, for that’s what she was now, public or not. No matter how close she thought she was getting to him at times, the third person in the relationship—the car—always fought back for his attention.

  The following day, Adam had to stay overnight in Brussels, and she had no way to go with him and still keep her working commitments. At least it gave her the perfect opportunity to join in the social events with her colleagues.

  “Come on,” Sarah said. “You never do anything with us these days.”

  “Sure. Where’s the party again?”

  “Nautilus Oil’s in the Marriott ballroom. Everyone will be there, from the top-of-the-food-chain car owners to the lowliest media support staff, like me. Our photographers are on full alert.”

  “Why?”

  Sarah smiled. “The parties at Spa are always the raunchiest for some unknown reason. It’s the one place the drivers will party before the race.”

  Viv texted Adam, who said he’d meet her there directly from free practice at the circuit. She’d not seen him since he got back from Brussels this morning and had been hoping to sneak off with him. But she had to keep up appearances.

  “Come on, I love this song,” Sarah pleaded, tugging her arm in the direction of the dance floor after about half an hour of people watching. “Let’s dance.”

  Viv looked around warily. “I’ll pass.”

  “Oh come on.”

  Then again, when had she ever refused to dance to this before, and why was she doing so now? Of course Sarah couldn’t dance on her own, not with all those drivers there. Viv simply had to go with her. It was becoming clear why Sarah was still single and would remain so; she was as timid as a mouse where men were concerned and secretly pining away for Reece. Viv scanned the room for a better alternative for her young colleague.

  “Okay, okay, I’m coming.”

  Bodies jostled to the rhythm on the dance floor set up in front of the two DJs’ mixing desks. The effects of an almost two-week gap without much travel between races were evident in the drivers’ elevated energy levels. The DJ had chosen the perfect music to get them inspired. Either way, the room came alive with gyrating bodies.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Adam come in the main door with his manager, Chad. Her primal instinct told her to go over and throw her arms around Adam. Her brain said don’t you dare.

  Everyone was here; her two exes, Reece, and all the drivers and the engineers. Although her exes were engrossed in their partners, sharing the same dance floor made them all too tangible as living, breathing men—Ronan’s way of flicking back his floppy fringe impatiently, Maddux’s smooth way of prowling around. She did her best to avoid eye contact with any of them.

  “Oh my God, I’m going to faint,” Sarah said in her ear. “He’s looking at us.”

  “Keep your cool.”

  Reece stepped into their little circle. He eyed Sarah up and down and sidled up to Viv. “The gang’s all here tonight.”

  “Indeed.”

  “Rich pickings.”

  “Oh really?”

  “For you I meant. I’m only browsing tonight.”

  “
How perfectly sedate of you, Reece.”

  “Even the wicked have to rest sometimes.”

  “I suppose they do.”

  “Of course,” his hand slid onto her waist and down her ass where he left it resting. “I’d make an exception for you, in this teensy little scrap of silk you’re calling a dress.” He cupped a buttock firmly.

  Viv gave a yelp and glared at him. “Hands off, Reece.”

  He didn’t budge, but kept staring into her eyes.

  Her gaze darted around the dance floor. “Reece—”

  Should she cause a scene by battling him off? Oh God … the ballroom was swarming with reporters. She squirmed, but Reece’s hand was going nowhere. Yuck. Over his shoulder she saw Adam, fighting his way through the swaying crowd, watching them intently. Thank God.

  “Just relax, babe. Let me hold onto my fantasy a few seconds more, hmm?”

  She clenched her teeth. Then she felt an arm tugging her away and separating her from Reece. She whirled around.

  Not Adam. Ronan. He’d been standing a lot nearer. His fair eyebrows shot up as hazel eyes assessed the situation in an instant. “Steady on there, Reece. Viv’s not into the old dirty dancing lark.” Ronan winked at her. “Well, not that I know of anyway.”

  She smoothed down her dress and fought back sheer mortification. “Yes, thanks, Ronan.” She searched around for Adam, but he’d disappeared into the crowd.

  Ronan’s gaze bounced from Reece to her and back again. He shrugged. “I’ll just bugger off and mind my own business then.”

  “You do that, Hawes,” Reece replied. “We got it all under control here.”

  “Glad to hear it, Reece,” she said pointedly. “Thanks, Ronan. We’ll take him at his word then.”

  The last thing she wanted was a scene with her ex and goddamn Reece. The two golden boys of F1 battling it out. Another quick scan of the area told her Adam had definitely left.

  She grabbed Sarah’s elbow. “Ladies’ room. Come on.”

  Sarah pounced on her when they’d entered the relative quiet of the bathroom. “Why didn’t you dance with Reece? He likes you.”

  “He likes everyone, Sarah.”

  “I don’t understand you sometimes,” Sarah said, pouting her freshly made-up lips into the mirror.

  “No? He’s not a nice person, Sarah. Don’t try anything.”

  Viv felt her phone vibrate. She took a cubicle to read it in private.

  Come to me now. My hotel.

  She flushed the toilet and came out. “I’ve a headache, Sarah.”

  Her friend’s eyes narrowed. “You’d leave me to face Reece—this not nice person—out there alone?”

  “You’re a big girl now.”

  “You’re up to something. Come on, where are you going?”

  “Sarah, I’m going to bed.” Which was true, in a way. “And you’re not alone, our whole team is here. Joe the cameraman seems very nice.”

  Sarah twisted her freckled nose in scorn. Then she waggled her eyebrows. “Well if Reece comes on to me, I’m not going to say no.”

  • • •

  She hailed a taxi and reached Adam’s hotel within ten minutes. When he opened the door of his bedroom, Viv felt agitation rippling off him in waves. His gaze burned with an intensity that looked almost painful.

  He grabbed her into his chest. “Are you okay? How dare he touch you? I wanted to flatten him, Vivienne, I—”

  “Shhh,” she said, holding her finger to his mouth and then replacing it with her lips. His anger, his possessiveness was turning her on. He pulled her in tightly and kissed her, but then broke off equally as sudden. In three long strides, he reached the window and glared, but she doubted he noticed a single detail of the moonlit courtyard.

  “Reece wants to destabilize me so he’ll win. He thinks this is his way to get to me. He’s got us all figured out. But I will not let that bastard derail me. I cannot.”

  “Oh, I hate him, too. You think he knows about us?”

  “Maybe. Who knows? I’d guess he suspects.” Adam spun around. “Vivienne, it’s time.”

  “Time?”

  “To come clean. If we’d been there as a couple, this would never have happened.”

  “It’s just Reece being a prick, Adam, really. We can ignore him. Let’s … hang on until the season’s over.”

  He turned back to the window and addressed her reflection in the dark glass. “How can I stand there and watch him put his hands all over you and not do anything about it? I know you had to keep a brave face out there, but how far would you have let him go if your goddamn ex hadn’t shown up?” His hands curled into fists against the windowpane.

  She approached him from behind and slipped her hands around his waist. His rigid posture relaxed by a fraction. “Reece wasn’t going anywhere. Trust me, Adam. I’d have kneed him in the balls if I’d had to.”

  “Hmph. Wish you had.”

  She pressed her chest tightly into his back and slid her hands down his abdomen to his groin. He inhaled sharply and flattened his palms against the glass for support. Zipping open his jeans, she slipped her hand inside, feeling the length of him as he hardened. He offered no resistance. “It’s just us,” she said.

  “Yes.” His fingers splayed wide as she tightened her fingers around his cock. She had a feeling he’d agree to anything she said as long as she kept going, and this intoxicated her. His breathing accelerated and his fingers trailed ten parallel lines of heat down the condensation on the glass.

  He stiffened, swung around to face her, grabbed her wrists, walked her backward to the bed and tossed her flat on her back. Before she could even kick off her shoes, his arms flew under the tiny skirt of her dress and whipped off her underwear with a speed that left a breeze against her most vulnerable parts.

  He straightened and held up her lacy underwear. “You’re not getting these back until the morning.”

  “Adam—”

  “No.” He stuffed the garment into his jeans pocket. His expression was a mixture of triumph and lust.

  Damn. Her cocktail dress was teeny, Reece had been right about that. Adam was forcing her to stay there.

  “You win,” she breathed. “I’ll stay. Dirty tactics though.”

  “Plenty more where that came from.” His hands slid slowly under the dress, this time covering her where her underwear used to be. Rotating his palm against her sex, he filled her with sudden, wanton greed for more.

  “Yes …” She couldn’t think when he was doing that with his hands.

  “Vivienne, you know,” he said, rubbing faster, “reporters have been known to date sportspeople. It wouldn’t be the end of the world if they found out.”

  “Mmm-hmm … I’d rather wait until … um—”

  “Until when?” His eyes were watchful.

  She shut her eyes. Until she was sure? She couldn’t say that.

  “Until when?” he repeated. He was manipulating her, and she wasn’t falling for it.

  “I don’t know, Adam. Until the season’s over and we know what we’re doing?”

  “I know what I’m doing.”

  “Good, well keep going.”

  She didn’t want to think or talk or anything … just to feel her insides succumb to the sense of him mastering her pleasure. Nothing else mattered … nothing else.

  • • •

  Adam won in his old home country, to the joy of the Gatari team and the Wallonian press. He was now 151 points to Reece’s 158. There was nothing between them except a snowballing rivalry.

  The BBC team had to go back to London HQ on the Eurostar train instead of wasting money in hotels. Viv was determined to exercise some control over the live interview with Adam. All Mack would say was that it was going ahead in two weeks in their London headquarters when they got back from Japan, and that Catherine was definitely doing it. The least the anchor could do was be forthcoming about what she had in mind for it.

  “I just want to get an idea of how you’re going to steer the in
terview, that’s all,” Viv said in her most reasonable tone in the staff kitchen.

  “Trust me, Viv, I’m a veteran interviewer.”

  “But what’ll you ask him? I mean, you’ve only got fifteen minutes. What’ll you be concentrating on?”

  “Why do you care?”

  “It’s my interview. I secured it.”

  “Well, I think you’ll find that Mack wants me to do it, so I have complete creative control.”

  “Yes, I know. Fine.” She had never liked Catherine Price much. Now she officially hated her.

  Their voices were raised, and Viv was fully aware the whole canteen was listening in, from the boom operators to the cameramen. “Catherine,” she pleaded, “Don’t grill him on the family too much, or the past. He’s … sensitive about it.”

  “He’s … sensitive about it,” Catherine mimicked Viv’s concerned tone. It got a giggle from a nearby table of nature documentary engineers.

  Viv shook her head and gave up.

  “And why would you care about that? I think I’m entitled to know how you secured this interview if I’m going to be conducting it. Otherwise he might completely surprise me on air.”

  “Oh, I doubt that very much.” She marched off.

  “How interesting,” Catherine called after her. “Maybe that’ll be my first question to him.”

  • • •

  She rendezvoused with Adam in Spain on his precious week off before the race in Barcelona and warned him about the interview. They lounged on a beach near Malaga in the July heat, on the opposite side of the country from everyone, Adam disguising his face with a ridiculous, wide sunhat. Viv remembered this area from holidaying with her parents as a kid—half of Britain came to Costa del Sol in the summer—and she knew a secluded, rocky beach to escape to. As she watched her lover’s taut torso flexing in the white sunshine while he caressed her arm, life had never been so good.

  “That’s okay,” he said, shaking the sunscreen bottle. “If you’re fine with it?”

  “Yeah.” She let the dark brown sand flow through her fingers and land on his toes. “I’ve made peace with the situation. It’s kinda hard to let anything get to me sitting here next to you.”