Faster Harder

by Colleen Masters

  “Long before you walked into that club last night, that’s for sure,” he laughs.

  “What?”

  “Come now, Siena,” he says, running his hands down along my bare arms. “With all the research you do, scoping out your brother’s competition, don’t you think I’ve done a spot of my own? You’re not exactly an invisible presence on the team.”

  “That’s not how it feels,” I tell him, as goose bumps spring up along the trail of his light touch.”

  “You can’t really think that,” he says, taking my hands in his, “You can’t truly believe that someone as beautiful as you could ever be relegated to the background?”

  “You don’t have to flatter me, Harrison,” I tell him, “You know I’m already attracted to you.”

  “I don’t believe in flattery,” he tells me, “I believe in speaking my mind. And in letting my body do the speaking itself, sometimes.”

  “Is that so?” I breathe, the proximity of Harrison’s beautiful lips knocking every rational thought from my mind.

  “Indeed,” he says, “It’s something you should try more often, Siena. I get the sense that you’re not accustomed to giving yourself over to your more...inhibited desires.”

  “I’m not accustomed to desiring someone like this,” I tell him truly.

  “God, that’s sexy,” he says, “Knowing that you want me as much as I want you.”

  He tucks a stray curl back behind my ear and closes the space between us. I lay my hand on the firm panes of his chest, looking desperately up into those endless blue eyes. We’re utterly alone out here, suspended between the earth and sky with no witness save the sea itself. What I wouldn’t give to let myself go, to give myself up to him here on the shore. Every cell in my body is screaming with want of him, but my roaring mind is just as loud.

  “Harrison, wait,” I plead, as his arms circle my waist.

  “What’s wrong?” he asks, “Did I say something—?”

  “No, it’s not that,” I say quickly, “It’s just...How can we do this?”

  “Easy. Let me show you,” he smiles, lowering his lips toward mine.

  “No, I mean...You know who I am. I’m a Lazio. My family would be furious if they knew I was out here with you. You’re the competition, Harrison.”

  “I’m your brother’s competition,” he says, running his hands along my exposed back. “But what does that matter? To you, I’m just a man. A man who happens to be insatiably attracted to you.”

  “It doesn’t work like that,” I tell him, “I can’t just separate being a woman from being a Lazio, you know?”

  “Perhaps you’ve just never had reason to try?” Harrison says, pulling me to him.

  I gasp as I feel his pulsing desire hard against me. I’ve never wanted anything so badly in my life. A deep, throbbing pressure builds in my very core, and I know that only one thing will satisfy me now. I press myself to Harrison’s chest, and the aching desire reaches a pitch to rival the crashing waves.

  “God, you don’t make it easy for a girl to resist you,” I whisper.

  “I won’t do anything you don’t want me to,” Harrison tells me, his voice rasping with lust, “If you tell me to stay the hell away from you, I will. If you tell me to lay you down right here and show you just how badly I want you...Oh, how I will.”

  “Show me,” I whisper, wrapping my arms around his broad shoulders, “Please...”

  My plea has barely left my lips when his mouth finds mine. His strong arms take me up, and I melt against his powerful body. I open myself to him, savoring the taste of his kiss. My breasts billow against his hard chest, straining at the thin green fabric of my dress. Harrison’s hands work their way down my back, cupping my ass, pulling me hard against his ever-growing desire.

  As one, we fall to our knees in the sand. I slide my hands up under his black tee shirt, letting my fingers play along with ridges of his defined, cut muscles. His lips find the tender skin of my neck, kissing me all over. He lets his mouth graze across my skin, salty with sea air. Down along my collarbone, onto my heaving chest. I hold my breath as he tugs down the thin straps of my dress, sliding the garment down off my shoulders. I lean into his embrace as the dress falls away from my breasts, exposing my lacy black bra.

  “God damn, Siena,” he growls, taking in the sight of me kneeling before him in the sand, “How was I ever supposed to stay away from you?”

  “Who asked you to stay away?” I whisper, letting my hands trail down along the length of his body. “As long as we can keep this a secret between us...”

  “Oh, I think we can manage that,” he smiles, “God knows, it’s a secret worth protecting with everything I’ve got.”

  I gasp as he lowers his lips to my chest, kissing along the delicate boundaries of my bra. All I want is for him to peel every last stitch off my body, but I know that we have to take things slowly. This is uncharted territory for me, and I don’t want to bite off more than I can chew. Still, that doesn’t mean we can’t have a bit of fun.

  I push Harrison’s shoulders back, lowering him down onto the sand. He grins up at me in the dim moonlight, his blue eyes sparkling with lust and mischievous glee. I straddle his hips, planting my knees in the soft sand. I can feel him hard against me, right where I want to feel him most. That place between my legs is crying out for him, pulsing with barely restrained need. All in due time, I tell myself, all in due time.

  “I’m in,” I tell Harrison, looking down onto his gorgeous features, “Whatever the hell it is we’ve doing, I’m all in. As long as we can be honest with each other, totally honest, from here on out.”

  “I can do that,” Harrison tells me, “And right now, I honestly want to take you right here on this beach and refuse to leave until we’ve both had our fill.”

  “Not so fast, Tiger,” I laugh, “You’re used to beating your own time on the race track, but your days of driving solo are over. There’s someone else with you behind the wheel now. Are you man enough to handle that?”

  “And then some,” he tells me, “Just you wait and see.”

  Chapter Six

  Sex Hair

  “Miss Lazio! Miss Lazio, over here!”

  “Over here, Siena!”

  “Question, Miss Lazio—Question!”

  I blink out into the crowd, a mess of flash bulbs and eager faces. Reporters, bloggers, and photographers rubberneck around each other, every single one vying for my attention. I’m sitting at a long table with Enzo, my dad, and Gus. It’s our last press conference before today’s qualifier race, and every media type out there is trying to get the last bit of dirt that might give them the edge. Even the journalists of F1 are too competitive for their own good. I take a deep breath and lean toward the microphone.

  “Yes, you there,” I say, nodding to a stout American man in the front row.

  “Miss Lazio,” he says, pulling himself up to standing, “What’s the mood like in the Ferrelli camp, heading into this Grand Prix?”

  “I’d say that, as a team, we’re optimistic about our senior driver’s chances,” I tell him, “And confident that he’ll make a real showing this weekend.”

  “Well sure,” the man presses, “But you must be a little shaken up by what happened to Maxwell Naughton on the track yesterday.”

  “We’re deeply saddened by Mr. Naughton’s accident,” I say, folding my hands in front of me, “It’s always difficult to see a good driver and a very respected man get injured during a race. It reminds us all of the risk these drivers take every time they get behind the wheel. Next question, please.”

  Dozens of voices rise up in the conference room, calling for attention. When I first started running Ferrelli’s press events, the din was overwhelming. But by now, I’ve been through this particular ringer far too many times to let nerves get the best of me. I’m in my element here, wrangling the press. It’s what I’m here to do, after all.

  “You,” I say, pointing to a prim blonde woman in the back of the room, “What
is your question?”

  “It’s a follow up, really,” she tells me in a musical Swedish accent, “Has the change up of McClain’s roster altered anything about Ferrelli’s strategy, going forward?”

  “Our strategy is rather fixed,” I tell her, “Drive fast.”

  An appreciative chuckle goes up around the room, but the blonde reporter doesn’t flinch. “Harrison Davies is a very different driver than Maxwell Naughton,” she says, “He’s fresh out of the gate, and very good at that. He has a lot to prove this weekend, as well. Are you telling me that Ferrelli isn’t concerned?”

  “That’s right,” Enzo says, grabbing the microphone away from me. I have to sit on my hands to keep from snatching it right back. Enzo’s never been very good at speaking to the press. His temper makes it impossible to control him during these events. “I’ve been an F1 racer for years. I’ve trained since the day I was born. Pardon me if I’m not intimidated by a rookie with a toothpaste ad smile.”

  “If I’m not mistaken,” the Swedish reporter goes on, her eyes gleaming, “Mr. Davies actually outpaced you yesterday during the trial—”

  “Those times count for nothing,” Enzo says hotly, “And anyone who claims otherwise is too ignorant about the sport to even be speaking.”

  My dad shoots me a furious look from down the table. I set my jaw and go once more into damage control mode.

  “That’s all we have time for today,” I say quickly, resisting the urge to elbow Enzo in the ribs, “We have a qualifier to run, after all.”

  The room erupts into a cacophony of voices as the four of us rise and take our leave. I wait until the conference room door has closed firmly behind us before rounding on my petulant big brother.

  “What did I tell you about addressing the press?” I ask hotly.

  “That woman wasn’t the press,” he sniffs, “She was after gossip. Conjecture.”

  “And that’s exactly what you gave her,” I retort, “Now, thanks to your little chest-pounding moment, we’re going to have a dozen articles about the rivalry between you and Harrison Davies.”

  “There’s no rivalry between us,” Enzo says, “To be rivals, you must be equally matched. That child has nothing on me.”

  A flash of anger erupts behind my eyes for Harrison’s sake. “What do you have against Harrison Davies?” I ask.

  “I’ll tell you what I have against him,” Enzo says, “He’s an opportunist and a playboy. He’s treating Maxwell Naughton’s tragedy like a personal victory.”

  “He’s McClain’s alternate,” I say exasperatedly, “It’s his job to race if the senior driver is ineligible.”

  “Well, he shouldn’t be so damned gleeful about it,” Enzo growls, “Naughton is a good man. I respect him. This Davies kid is nothing but a pretty face.”

  “Look,” I say, crossing my arms, “I don’t know what this vendetta is really all about, but you’re going to seriously bang up your image if you keep antagonizing Davies in front of the press.”

  “Your sister is right,” Dad says gruffly, “You’re only giving him power by mentioning him at all.”

  “What am I supposed to do then?” Enzo asks our dad, “Pretend that I’m OK with him? He’s a show off. Nothing but charisma.”

  “Just because you envy his charm, doesn’t mean it’s a good idea to make a big deal out of it,” I say.

  “Your brother doesn’t envy Harrison Davies anything,” Dad snaps, “And shame on you for suggesting otherwise.”

  “Hey, I’m not the problem here,” I say, hurt by my father’s accusation, “And don’t talk to me like I’m thirteen years old. I’m speaking as your PR manager right now, not your daughter.”

  “You’re always my daughter,” my dad says, “No matter how many titles you rack up. I won’t have you insulting your brother and this entire family right in front of me.”

  I stare at my dad, stunned into frustrated silence. It’s been this way forever in our family: Enzo can do no wrong, I can do nothing but wrong.

  “Tell me something, Dad,” I say, “Are you ever going to treat me like a professional adult and trust me to do my job?”

  “I do trust you, Siena,” he says, “More than anyone, I trust you to have this team’s best interests at heart. To be the faithful team player you’ve always been.”

  My heart tightens as I remember the feel of Harrison’s lips against my skin. Not twelve hours ago I was straddling him in the sand, wanting nothing more than to give myself over right then and there. We both managed, by some miracle, to hold back...but we came pretty damned close to going way beyond the bounds of casual hooking up. If I’m honest with myself, my feelings for Harrison Davies were far from casual from the start.

  I lower my eyes, fearing that my family will be able to see the guilt eating away at me, like I have sex hair that everyone can see. I’ve always put the team, my family first. What would they think if they knew I was off fooling around with McClain’s new number one man? It would be one thing if I was attracted to some low-ranking driver from an unknown team, but Harrison is shaping up to be a real competitor in this tournament. And the fact that Enzo already dislikes him certainly doesn’t lighten the weight that’s dragging at my heart.

  “Are we gonna get a move on, or stand here biting each other’s head off for the rest of the day?” Gus asks gruffly.

  “Right,” Dad says, “We need to move. This qualifier isn’t going to run itself.”

  “You guys go ahead,” I tell them, “I’ll meet you there.”

  They depart for the course without a word, but I start off in the other direction. I step out into the warm morning, drawing in deep breaths. Of course, the air is hardly as fresh as it might be. Rippling waves of steam and exhaust billow up around the city as teams prepare for today’s run. This will be the last go around before the actual race tomorrow. The results of today’s qualifier will determine each driver’s position in the real race. I know that Enzo is gunning for first today so that he can secure his spot in the pole position tomorrow. Pole position is the best place to start from in any race, and snagging that right can make a huge difference in the outcome of a race.

  I make my way to the course and spot Bex and Charlie chatting beside the track barrier. Bex spots me as I hurry their way and can tell in an instant that I need to talk. Charlie follows her gaze and sees me approaching, too.

  “Where the hell did you disappear to last night?” he asks bluntly, “We waited at the bar forever after you left.”

  “Just decided to call it an early night,” I tell him, “I needed my beauty sleep.”

  “Wish I had done the same,” Bex says, “Charlie and I knocked back a couple more than we might have. Right, Charlie?”

  “I suppose so,” he says.

  “Speaking of, would you mind grabbing me a coffee or something?” Bex asks, tossing her blonde curls back over her shoulder. Charlie’s eyes catch on my best friend’s glistening locks, white tank top, and skin-hugging jeans. He’s a goner.

  “Sure,” he says, “I’ll...uh...be right back.”

  My best guy friend hurries off on Bex’s errand, leaving us alone to talk.

  “It’s like you have magical powers or something,” I say.

  “I just know how to get what I want. Especially from men,” Bex smiles, “Besides, Charlie is not exactly the most difficult person in the world to read.”

  “No. And I’m reading that he’s way onto me,” I say softly.

  “Onto you and Harrison, you mean?” Bex asks.

  “Yeah.”

  “I figured that’s where you snuck off to last night,” she says, turning away from the crowd, smiling wide, “Tell me everything.”

  “I just wanted to talk to him, at first,” I say, “We met down on the beach, and—”

  “You totally screwed, didn’t you?!” she asks excitedly.

  “What? No, we...I mean we fooled around, but—”

  “I can’t believe that this is your life, Siena,” Bex says.

&
nbsp; “That makes two of us,” I sigh, “What the hell am I supposed to do? Harrison is quickly becoming public enemy number one for Team Ferrelli.”

  “I think you’re blowing it out of proportion,” Bex says, “Charlie’s going to hate any guy who shows an interest in you. He’s your guard dog. And Enzo’s going to have it out for any new driver who might give him a run for his money. He’s too competitive for his own good.”

  “So?”

  “So, none of that has anything to do with you, or Harrison,” Bex says, “Listen, Siena. I understand why you’re a little freaked out by wanting to get freaky with Davies. This sport is your world. But try and see beyond it, for a minute. In the grand scheme of things, you’re just a woman, and Harrison is just a man.”

  “Somehow, I don’t think my family will see it that way,” I point out.

  “Juliet’s family didn’t want her to be with Romeo,” Bex says, “What would have happened if she’d listened to them, huh?”

  “You do know that Romeo and Juliet both end up dead at the end of the story, right Bex?”

  “Details.”

  I sigh, leaning my elbows on the barrier railing. “Maybe the rivalry thing will blow over before it even gets going,” I say hopefully, “If Harrison isn’t a real threat to Ferrelli’s chances of winning, no one will care if I spend a little time with him.”

  “Exactly,” Bex smiles, “And really, what are the chances that this rookie is actually going to be good enough to beat your brother?”

  “I don’t know,” I say, “Harrison seems to be a rather skilled gentleman...”

  “I expect a full play-by-play of last night. Right this instant,” Bex says.

  “Come on now,” I wink, “You know I don’t kiss and tell.”

  Bex is about to retort when the race announcer’s voice roars through the speakers.

  “Today’s qualifier will begin in just a moment,” the voice says enthusiastically, “Drivers and crews should report to their positions. Spectators are encouraged to find their seats.”

  Bex and I hurry off to where the rest of Team Ferrelli has gathered. Charlie hurries up behind us, coffees in hand. I happily accept my cup, glad to have a tiny distraction from my racing thoughts. Just focus on the race, I coach myself. There will be plenty of time to figure out the personal stuff later.