“How can it feel so right to be here when I know it’s so wrong?” I ask softly.
“We are right together, Siena,” Harrison says, letting his hands run down the curvy sides of my body, “It’s this circumstance that’s wrong.”
“But that doesn’t change it,” I say, turning to face him, “I want to be with you, Harrison. We’ve barely had a chance yet, and already I don’t know how I could go without you.”
“I know it’s messy,” Harrison tells me, pulling me against him, “And I know it’s going to be hard. But what worth having isn’t?”
I run my hands through his hair, marveling at this amazing person that’s fallen into my life. “You’re right,” I whisper, “Of course, you’re right.”
“I know,” he smiles, “It’s kind of my thing.”
“Shut up and kiss me, would you?” I say, cupping his sharp jaw in my hands.
Harrison presses me back against the thick glass pane, pinning me there with his hips. He brings his lips to mine with a new fervor. I open myself to him, feel his tongue glide against mine. The cool glass presses against my hot skin, and my hands run all along Harrison’s firm, sculpted form. The taste of him engulfs me, and all I want is to feel him within me. He teases me with this tongue, letting me feel him inside my mouth. Making me want to feel him everywhere, taste him everywhere.
“I want you,” I whisper, letting my hands slide down his firm ass.
I pull his hips toward me, feeling the rise of his manhood hard against my thigh. Harrison’s breath comes hot and fast as I grind my hips against his growing desire. I gasp as he scoops me up into his arms, and pushes me hard against the glass of the floor to ceiling windows. I wrap my legs desperately around his hips, my fingers fumble for his belt buckle, but his strong hands catch my wrists and stop me.
“Wait,” he breathes.
“Please,” I beg, “Harrison, I need to—”
“I know,” he says, “Trust me. I do too. But more than that, I need you to know that I’m not going anywhere once tomorrow comes. I want to fuck you so badly, Siena. But it’s not going to be tonight.”
“But...I...” I whimper.
“That’s not to say,” Harrison goes on, “That we’re through, here. I just want tonight to be about you.”
He carries me in a few long strides into the darkened bedroom. He lays me out across the bed, and I tug him down on top of me. With one deft flick of the wrist, Harrison unbuttons my favorite pair of jeans and slides them down off my legs. I lay back, stunned into silence, as he pushes my knees apart. He trails his fingertips along the tender skin of my thighs, until finally they glance against my cotton panties. I groan softly as Harrison slips my underwear down off my hips, leaving me open and exposed before him.
I spread myself open, wanting nothing but to feel him there between my legs. A great shudder runs through me as Harrison sets two fingers against my throbbing sex. He strokes all along my slit until he finds that place, that aching center of sensation. My knees begin to tremble as he rubs and caresses me, edging me toward blissful oblivion.
“Oh my god, Harrison...” I moan.
“Trust me, darling,” he growls, “I’m just getting started.”
He lowers his mouth to where his hands so attentively caress me. And my cries of pleasure mount in our darkened hideaway. My mind goes numb, the world slips out of focus, and for that night, we’re the only two people in the world.
Chapter Eight
Race Day
“I don’t think you’ve stopped smiling all morning,” my dad remarks. We’re on our way to the Barcelona course, hitching a ride in one of Team Ferrelli’s town cars.
“What?” I ask, turning to face him. I’ve been completely lost in my own thoughts, unable to bring myself fully back into reality after the dream that was last night.
“I said, what’s with the smile?” Dad repeats, looking me over curiously.
“I’m just...excited for the race, is all,” I say.
“Are you blushing?” my dad presses.
“What? No. I’m just pumped, is all. Enzo’s going to kill it out there today.”
“I certainly hope so,” my dad replies, crossing his arms. “We need to make a strong first showing. Remind all those other drivers of their place.”
“Anywhere behind Enzo, you mean?”
“That’s right,” Dad says, “Your brother’s been training for his entire life. This is finally his moment, I can feel it.”
“I hope you’re right,” I say. And I mean it, of course. I want nothing more than for Enzo to take this tournament by storm. But if Harrison happened to do well, too...Well. That wouldn’t be such a tragedy either.
We step out of the car, and a wave of noise subsumes us. Revving engines, chattering fans, and a thousand different sounds rise up all around us. The entire city of Barcelona is practically vibrating with energy and commotion. It’s strange to see the mechanical, industrial working of the Grand Prix set against the surreal, ornate landscape of Barcelona. It’s like the two worlds are colliding, creating something complex and beautiful. Sort of like Harrison and I, now that I think about it.
“Jesus, Siena,” I mutter, “Snap out of it for a second, would you?”
I feel like a schoolgirl again, hopelessly wrapped up in thoughts of my new guy. Of course, I certainly didn’t act like a school girl last night. Fleeting memories of our secret tryst keep flying through my mind, blindsiding me at every turn. I feel like a wide open book. Hopefully, no one of Team Ferrelli will be able to read me that easily. I still have no idea how I’m going to come clean to my team about Harrison, but we’ll cross that bridge when we get there. Maybe once the little tiff between Harrison and Enzo dies down, it’ll be easier. Surely, once they’re both wrapped up in the tournament, this petty rivalry will snuff itself out.
Dad and I weave through the buzzing crowd until we find Enzo. The crew of Team Ferrelli is rushing around him, making sure that everything is ready and secure. My heart swells with pride at the sight of my brother, standing at the center of the vortex. I can see the anxiety gleaming just behind his eyes, but his sharp focus is what really stands out. He’s ready for this, primed for victory at last.
“Have everything you need, Son?” Dad asks, clapping a hand on Enzo’s shoulder.
“Just about,” my brother says, grinning gamely. “If Siena would be so kind as to supply me with my good luck charm.”
He turns his cheek to me, tapping his finger against his tanned skin. Laughing, I plant a kiss just above his jaw. Just as I’ve done before every single race he’s ever run. It’s been our tradition for as long as I can remember.
“Now I’m ready,” Enzo says, pulling me into a hug.
“You’re going to be amazing,” I tell him.
“Keep an eye out for Davies,” Dad says pointedly.
A tug of guilt pulls at the corner of my heart. Standing in the middle of the Ferrelli camp, I suddenly feel like a fraud. Just last night, I was sprawled beneath Harrison Davies himself, giving over to the frenzy of pleasure he incited in me. The giddy smile that’s been playing across my lips all morning finally begins to fade. I bury my secret deep inside of me, praying that no one finds me out.
Not yet.
Enzo lowers his helmet onto his head, obscuring everything but his sharp brown eyes. He climbs into his emerald chariot, and the crew descends to secure him. A thousand buckles and latches are set into place, and I tamp down a wave of nerves. Each time Enzo climbs into his car, there’s the very real chance that I might not see him again. And after what happened to Maxwell Naughton during preliminaries, I’m more conscious of that fact than ever. Why do all the people I care most about in the world love to risk their lives?
“You should go find your place,” Dad tells me, “We don’t want the crew tripping over you while they’re trying to work.”
I turn away to mask the hurt in my eyes. No matter how much I try and do for Ferrelli, Dad never treats me like a part of the team.
Not really. I’m an onlooker, a spectator, and employee. I love my father dearly, which is probably why his words cut me to the quick. The people you love the most are always the ones who can hurt you the most. Don’t I know that to be true.
Wading out into the crowd once more, I catch sight of Team McClain’s holding area. Against my better judgment, I decide to reroute toward Harrison’s camp. A flurry of activity obscures my view of the ruby red car. The entire crew is working at breakneck speed, making sure that their brand new driver is taken care of. I see Cora, Shelby, and Sara standing off to the side, observing the proceedings.
“Hey!” I call to them, weaving through the crowd.
“Siena!” Cora says happily, giving me a quick hug, “What a day we got for the race, huh?”
“It’s perfect,” I smile, “Best of luck to you guys.”
“And to you,” Sara tells me, her red hair gleaming in the morning sun. “Maybe we can all get together at the hotel before we ship off tomorrow. Grab a friendly drink. I wouldn’t mind meeting that handsome brother of yours, if I’m being honest.”
“I’m sure that could be arranged,” I laugh.
Shelby’s cold eyes alight on my face. “Aren’t you forgetting that Enzo hates our driver?” she asks.
“Hate is stating it rather strongly,” I say, taken aback.
“Not from the press I’ve been reading,” Shelby goes on, crossing her arms, “Seems to me Ferrelli’s whipped up some kind of vendetta against McClain. Not exactly grounds for becoming drinking buddies, I think.”
“It’ll blow over,” Cora says, “Don’t take things so seriously, Shelby.”
“Whatever,” the beautiful blonde says, “I’m just trying to look out for Harrison’s best interests. It’s best to keep personal drama far away from the track. Don’t you think, Siena?”
“Uh...” I say, my pulse beginning to race.
“It’s no good to have our drivers’ minds clouded with that kind of stuff,” she says, “They need to be able to focus on the race, after all. It’s not safe to have them distracted.”
“Sure,” I say. “That sounds about right.”
Shelby’s unflinching gaze unnerves me. Where is she going with all of this? She couldn’t possibly know that Harrison and I are seeing each other in secret. I mean sure, a few people know that we hung out at the club that first night, but past that we’ve been discreet. At least...I thought we were being discreet. But could Shelby know something that she shouldn’t?
“Let’s just see how today goes, yeah?” Sara says brightly, “Hopefully, all that rivalry nonsense will blow over, and we can just enjoy the rest of the tournament.”
“Right,” I agree, “That sounds...”
But I trail off as Harrison appears at Sara’s shoulders. His racing jumpsuit clings to his body, hugging every tight muscle. The image of that body lowering itself onto my naked form bursts into my mind’s eye. I nearly lose my balance standing perfectly still. Harrison grins at me, and I know that he can read my mind. I can tell that he likes knowing exactly how crazy he drives me. As if last night weren’t enough evidence that I’m totally insatiable for him...
“Hello ladies,” he says, “Ready to watch me kick the shit out of this race?”
“That’s the spirit,” Cora chirps.
“You’re going to be incredible,” Sara says, “I can tell.”
“Let me get a picture for the blog,” Shelby says, raising her smart phone, “The fans will love it. Why don’t you go stand with him, Siena?”
“Oh...no,” I say quickly, “I probably—”
“Come on now,” she says, shoving me at Harrison, “It’ll be cute.”
She snaps a picture just as Harrison catches me in his arms. I step away quickly, embarrassed and annoyed. Shelby flashes her pearly whites, smug as hell.
“Got it,” she says, “I’d call that a keeper. Come on, girls. We should go find a place to watch the race. See you later, Siena!”
The trio of McClain ladies sets off, leaving Harrison and I alone together. I turn to him, baffled by Shelby’s behavior.
“What the hell was that?” I ask.
“Don’t pay her any mind,” Harrison tells me, “Shelby’s been carrying a torch for me for years. She’s a bitch, but she’s harmless.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” I say, “The way she was talking...Do you think she knows about us?”
“Not a chance,” Harrison tells me, “We’ve been very diligent, don’t you think? Of course, someone could have heard you through the walls last night. You were rather...enthusiastic.”
“Can you blame me?” I ask, smiling despite my nerves. “I’m surprised I managed to pour myself out of bed this morning.”
“Perhaps we’ll have to find a little nook to escape into tonight, once we make it to the next city?” he asks.
“Get your mind out of the gutter and into the game, Davies,” I tell him, “You’ve got a race to run.”
“I wish I could ask you for a good luck kiss,” Harrison says, his eyes intent on my face.
“I wish I could give you one,” I say quietly. I think about kissing my brother on the cheek for luck, and wonder if it would still count, should I wish what luck I have to two drivers. The unease of betrayal churns my stomach once more.
“How about a friendly shake,” Harrison says, holding out his hand.
I take it in mine, amazed how even this little touch scorches along my nerves. “Be safe, would you?” I ask him.
“Of course,” he says, “I just met the woman of my dreams, after all. I’m not about to go wreck myself in a bloody crash. What a waste that would be.”
My jaw falls open, and I stare at Harrison wordlessly. Did he just call me the woman of his dreams? His grin widened as I struggle to find words.
“You heard me,” he says, taking a step closer, “I’m wild about you, Siena. You have to know that by now. And whatever happens today, I want you to know that I’m all in. However hard, however complicated this thing is between us, I want it. I want you.”
“How do you expect me to put full sentences together when you say things like that?” I ask, breathless and flushed.
“I don’t,” Harrison says, “But since we can’t use our mouths the way I’d prefer right this second, I guess sentences will have to do. See you after the race, darling. I’ll be the one on the winner’s podium.”
He lowers his helmet onto his head and gives me a wink before turning away. In a daze, I wander off in search of my racing family. One way or another, this is shaping up to be a very intense race, indeed.
***
At long last, I manage to find Bex and Charlie out in the crowd. They’re right up at the front of the stadium seating, as ever, as close to the action as possible. Charlie’s eyes are already glued to the track, but Bex eagerly waves me over to sit. I’m glad that Charlie’s mind is so occupied with the race that he fails to question my whereabouts last night, after I disappeared from Enzo’s suite. God knows my watch dog isn’t easy to shake, but at least the Grand Prix offers me a slight reprieve from his attentions. Bex, on the other hand, is looking at me expectantly, bouncing up and down with anticipation.
“Later,” I mutter, turning my eyes to the track.
“You’re killing me, Siena,” she whispers into my ear.
Before I can answer, the race announcer’s voice roars out over the crowd, telling us that the first Grand Prix of the tournament is about to begin. The entire city seems to be on its feet, cheering and shouting as the cars move into their positions on the track. Enzo pulls into pole position, the best possible place to start the race. From there, he can secure his spot right against the inside track in no time.
In the second best slot, Harrison’s car waits. You can almost see the tension sparking between the red and green cars. I bite my lip, hoping against hope that this race will dismantle the rivalry between Harrison and my brother, rather than add to it. Maybe they’ll both run a fantastic race, emerge seeing each o
ther as equals, and perhaps even respect each other a bit.
Can’t blame a girl for dreaming.
“Come on, Enzo,” Charlie shouts, “You can do it! Level them all!”
“Charlie,” I chide, “Sportsmanship, dude.”
He rolls his eyes at me as the announcer’s voice booms out over the crowd. His words give way to a blaring horn, and that good old checkered flag begins to wave. Each and every car roars to life at once, a glistening cloud of steam and exhaust rising from the herd. They take off in a pack, charging ahead across the track. The race has finally begun.
I’m on my feet, unable to contain or calm myself. My eyes are locked onto Enzo’s car as it easily snatches up the lead. Harrison’s red vehicle hangs back, gauging the pace of race. They tear through the first lap, and my world is narrowed down to the race track. Nothing matters in this moment except those two cars speeding through the course at breakneck speed. I grab onto Bex’s hand for support as the riotous crowd surges around me.
With each lap, Enzo’s lead increases. He’s the uncontested frontrunner of the race, making it look absolutely effortless. My brother relentless holds onto his place as the leader of the pack as the cars of his competitors fall away. All except one, that is.
Harrison trails Enzo by a fair margin, giving my brother room without letting him out of his sight. The rest of the top ten cars fall behind as the fifteenth lap begins. The race seems to fly by at the same time that every second stretches on forever. I fall into a paradoxical time warp, as I do every time I watch a race. There’s absolutely nothing like it in the world.
My every nerve stands on end as Enzo and Harrison close in on their final laps. A couple other cars get aggressive, here at the end, and jet up to join them at the front of the herd. I spot the canary yellow car of Sven Landers, a Swedish driver just a few years Enzo’s senior. Landers pulls into third place and holds his position, trying to find a way to get an edge on Harrison. Behind them in fourth place is Alexi Rostov, a young Russian driver who happens to be Enzo’s closest friend in the world of F1. The four of them race ahead way ahead of the rest, the ultimate frontrunners of this race.
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