Page 37 of Faster

He stopped at his door and leaned on the frame.

He watched as she looked him up and down.

It was almost cute the way she pretended she wasn’t into him.

But he’d paid attention to her, what she liked and didn’t.

It was written all over her face, even though no one else seemed to be able to read her.

He’d heard a reporter call her a “cold bitch,” and the only thing that had stopped him stuffing the microphone down the guy’s throat was the promise of getting to spend time alone with Paola, away from the paddock.

He wanted to see what her face looked like when she tasted something delicious.

He wanted to feel her shiver because her sun-warmed skin caught a chill in the early evening breeze that came up over the terrace at his father’s house in the Cinque Terre.

He wanted to listen for what made her breath catch and what made her moan as he feasted on her pretty, tanned skin.

“Stop thinking about that.” Her tone was playful, yet there was still a bite to it. She was fighting this as hard as he was.

“I can’t stop thinking about it, Paola.” Brent had never felt this way before, and it was all because she wouldn’t let him get away with shit.

They felt right together, if only he could make her see it.

“And plenty of people get together in the paddock. We’re the traveling circus, and no one living outside of this world is going to understand how we live.

We can’t just put our lives on hold until we’re done with the sport. ”

She shook her head. “You don’t have to worry about your reputation.” Though they were physically as close as they’d ever been, he could feel her pulling away from him. “If it gets out that I’m dating a driver, there would be hell to pay.”

“So, you lied to me?” Brent didn’t know how to salvage this situation, and accusing Paola of being dishonest was probably the worst way to do it, but she made him a little bit crazy.

“I have never lied to you.” She wrapped her arms around her waist in an uncharacteristically insecure gesture. And he felt a pang of guilt.

“You said you’d go out with me if I behaved.”

“I said I’d have dinner with you. Dinner isn’t going out. It’s a meal between colleagues.” She might be denying it now, but it was more than a “meal between colleagues” for her. Her skin was flushed this perfect shade of peachy pink, and she looked away.

He shook his head and stepped closer to her. “Uh uh. You’re not going to wiggle your way out of admitting that you feel something between us too. I wouldn’t make you so angry if you didn’t feel anything for me.”

She looked at the ceiling and huffed out a sigh, dropping her hands and flexing them. She was going to run. He could feel it in his bones. It was a good thing he lived for the chase.

“You’re not going to leave this alone, are you?”

He simply smiled back at her.

“Don’t you have responsibilities?” She knew he didn’t have any media duties for ninety minutes.

She always gave him time to decompress from the gauntlet of photographers and fans he walked through before he had to be in the press pen.

He had time to greet the engineers and the pit crew and walk around a bit before doing anything else.

But he knew this track better than almost any other, and he wanted to spend his time doing something else.

He reached out and grabbed her hand. She didn’t pull away, so he pulled her closer to him, until their bodies were pressed together. He felt her breath brush across his collarbone.

“Tell me that you don’t want me to kiss you right now.

” He didn’t want her to tell him that, but he was going to give her every.

Single. Out. If something happened between them, it would be clear they both wanted it—needed it.

“Tell me that you don’t want me to kiss you until we’re both too drunk on each other to know that this is a bad idea. ”

There was a second where he thought she would pull away. She should slap him across the face and tell him to never touch her again. He wouldn’t blame her if she did. Instead, she bit her plump bottom lip and looked up at him. He rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb and waited.

He’d never had to wait for anything he’d wanted in his whole life. Actually, his father had tried to instill a modicum of impulse control by delaying rewards. Maybe that was why Paola’s bribe had been so appealing. But he’d never waited for something in the knowledge that he might not ever have it.

“You’re going to lose interest as soon as anything happens.”

Her words took him aback for a second. She would be right about that if they were talking about anyone else.

But he’d never been obsessed with a woman before—not like this.

Every other thought he had was about what Paola would think.

He’d never cared what a woman thought about virtually anything he did outside the bedroom.

It had never even been a consideration, which made him a colossal jerk.

And he didn’t have any way of explaining that Paola was different without demonstrating to her that he was an asshole.

And then she really might not let him kiss her.

“I thought about you when I picked out this shirt today,” he said.

When she looked confused, he added, “I’ve never thought about how anyone else felt about the way that I dressed before.

I think about what you would want to eat for breakfast when I’m eating breakfast. I wanted to send you a picture of a sunset when we had a week off and I went to Madrid for that sponsor thing. ”

Her eyes grew wide, and he thought she might have caught on to the way he felt about her. Suddenly, he was the one feeling vulnerable. “I don’t want to sound like a weird stalker, but you’re always in my thoughts.”

“That actually makes it sound like I’m stalking you —in your mind.”

He ran his hand up her arm and over her shoulder, until he was cupping her chin. She didn’t pull away when he rested his forehead against hers. “You are, but I don’t hate it. It feels really good.”

“This is still a bad idea.” She sounded breathy—like she’d climbed up a big hill on a hot day. She was wavering, and he had no idea how to push her over the edge. He was just as shaky and unsure.

“Of course it is. But my whole life is a bad idea. I get into an open-wheel car that goes over 300 kilometers per hour to drive in circles. Sometimes with assholes who think we’re playing bumper cars.”

“Please don’t remind me that you could die doing this.

Every time you get in the car, my stomach turns into knots, and I don’t feel better until the session is over.

” It was the first time she’d admitted more than a professional interest in him, and he savored it as much as he wanted to reassure her.

“I feel that way every time I look at you and I don’t know how you feel about me. It feels just as risky to be telling you all the wild thoughts that run through my head about you. All the time.”

She looked at his mouth, but he still needed her to make the first move. “I think about you all the time too. Because it’s my job.” His heart stopped before she continued. “And because it’s not. You’re not even that charming, and I still like you in a way I haven’t liked anyone in a long time.”

“I won’t let the press vultures get to you.” He didn’t know if he could keep that promise, but he would try.

“You can’t prevent that. And I chose to live this sport instead of a normal life.

I’m not sure you actually made that choice or had that choice made for you.

But maybe it doesn’t mean as much to you as it means to me.

And that’s fine. But what’s not fine is you tempting me to take risks with the life I’ve chosen. ”

She had him there. He hadn’t chosen to make racing his life. It had been laid out for him from an early age, and he’d luckily had enough talent that he hadn’t shit the bed at the first opportunity. But he didn’t have as much skin in the game as she had.

“I’m worth the risk, Paola.” He looked down at her, willing her to change her mind and just give in. “Even if something bad happens, I promise I’ll make it worth all the fallout.”

She went up on her tiptoes and leaned into him, her mouth hovering just a millimeter away from his. “I hope so.”

And then, she kissed him.

Paola kissed Brent not knowing what to expect.

She’d seen pictures of him kissing girls on yachts and at galas.

During Paris Fashion Week a few years before, he’d kissed a model of the moment at all the tourist spots in the city, sort of making fun of how people thought Paris was the height of sophistication—all because he thought the City of Lights was plebeian.

And for him it was. He was jaded, spoiled, and he left a trail of broken hearts wherever he went. He was entitled and rude.

She’d hated him at first, and she’d convinced herself that was why she thought about him every second of every day.

When that hadn’t worked, she’d convinced herself that her interest was purely professional—she only thought about him because it was her job.

It was only recently, when he’d stopped vexing her every day when she was just trying work that she’d realized she was infatuated with him.

She thought about his dimples at random times during the day. His father had the same dimples, and she didn’t think about them all the time. But he was her boss, and there wasn’t this zing of familiarity with Liam.

Brent gave her the feeling of a scary rock climb.

Falling might be deadly. She could hit a rock on the way down, go unconscious, and succumb before anyone could find her.

The rocks under her feet could crumble at any moment and she could tumble to her death.

Or she could keep going to the summit, unharmed.