Page 28 of Lights Out (Love in the Paddock #1)

My heart is pounding as Caleb buzzes me into his building. I keep looking around on the street, wondering if anyone has recognized me. Or if people know that this is where he lives and are possibly putting two and two together.

I keep my head tucked down as I step inside the posh lobby.

There are people coming and going, but I don’t feel anyone staring at me.

I go to the private elevator at the end of the elevator bank and enter the access code Caleb gave me.

I keep my gaze down, trying my best to blend into the surroundings so nobody notices me.

This is what dating Caleb will be like. Worrying about being seen. The feeling that I’m doing something … wrong.

But my heart tells me it’s not wrong at all.

The elevator chimes open, and I quickly step inside. The doors shut behind me, and I sag with relief. Nobody can see us now.

I turn around, and I can’t help but smile at the bench placed along the side wall, so you can sit if you prefer.

I could get used to the Monaco lifestyle , I think.

I take a calming breath and stare at the mirror at the back of the elevator wall. I’ve dressed up for Caleb tonight, and I’m so glad I got a bunch of stuff from Rent the Runway as soon as I knew I was coming to Monaco.

The elevator begins to ascend, and I study my appearance in the glass.

It’s a black midi dress with a one-shoulder top, fitted bodice, and super-sexy asymmetrical cutout at the waist. The skirt hugs all my curves, and there’s also a high slit up the right side.

I slipped into a pair of black strappy heels and put simple gold hoops on for earrings.

I’ve also added one other thing for Caleb.

I glance down at my left wrist, where I’m wearing the friendship bracelet he made me. Every time I look at it my pulse quickens, and I hope he likes that I have it on tonight.

I check my hair one more time, pushing one lock back into place. I put more waves in my hair and went with more subtle makeup than I wear when I’m on camera. A nude eye, peachy-pink blush, a nice neutral lip. No mascara because we’ll be in the pool later.

In the pool with Caleb. Talk about a visual that has played on a loop in my head since he mentioned it.

I can’t get it OUT of my head.

Not that I’m complaining, of course.

Ding! The elevator reaches the top floor of the building, and nerves completely overtake me.

Ha! Overtake. Nice way to work in racing into my feelings.

The doors open, and I find myself entering right into Caleb’s penthouse.

And standing right in front of Caleb.

Oh. My. God.

This time, he’s not in a tux. He’s wearing a black T-shirt, gray trousers, and an Hermés belt.

Holy shit.

I step off the elevator. My eyes are greedily drinking him in, starting with the T-shirt that stretches across his upper body, to the leather and silver bracelets stacked on his left wrist, then down to the gray trousers that fit his lean, athletic body to perfection.

I move my gaze back up his frame to his face, noticing how his dark hair is swept back with a bit of product.

I feel warm when I see how intensely his icy-blue eyes are roaming over my dress, stopping at the cutout that exposes my midriff, then lowering down my hips and catching for a moment at the slit that reveals a flash of leg.

Caleb’s eyes slowly move back up my body, then stop when they meet mine.

“Christ, Isla, you look hot, ” he says, his voice low. “So beautiful.”

My throat grows dry from the hungry way he’s looking at me. As he steps toward me, I can smell that sensual cologne lingering on his skin and the fresh grapefruit scent on his hair.

My eyes instinctively dart to his neck. I want to kiss the base of his throat to see if I can detect that cologne there.

No. I want to taste him . I want to know what his skin would feel like against my lips and how his cologne would taste on my tongue.

Crap. I think I one hundred percent regret telling Caleb we won’t be having sex tonight.

I blink the thought away and force myself to speak. “You look good yourself,” I say, my voice taking on a sultry tone.

“Here, let me take your bag,” he says, extending his hand.

“Thank you.” I hold the canvas tote out to him. Caleb is about to take it when his gaze falls upon my bracelet. His fingertips carefully grasp my wrist, and my stomach flips upside down as his thumb glides over the beads.

“You’re wearing my bracelet,” he says.

“It means something to me,” I say softly.

His eyes immediately flick from the friendship bracelet to meet my gaze. Nothing is said between us in this charged moment, yet I feel as if everything is being said. I know what he’s thinking, both from the way he’s looking at me and from the way he’s touching me right now.

My gesture matters to Caleb.

His fingers linger on my wrist for a moment, stroking the bracelet and sending goose bumps sweeping over my skin. Then he releases my wrist and takes my tote bag from me, and I have to admit, I miss the sensation of his fingers on my skin.

Caleb walks over to the open space that is a combination dining and living room, setting my bag down on a sleek dining room table in front of me.

It’s completely modern, with a ceramic travertine-colored top, surrounded by eight off-white linen chairs with metal legs.

There’s a companion sideboard along the right side, with a vibrant contemporary painting hanging over it, and there are three modern ring lamps suspended over the table.

I can learn all kinds of things about him from the details of his home. He’s clean. Caleb likes things organized, I’m willing to bet money on it. And he’s definitely a minimalist.

I bite back a smile. I wonder what he would think of my suitcase implosion the other day when I was packing in my room in Miami, because I had piles of stuff everywhere before Hadleigh came over for dinner.

I go back to studying the room. There’s a floating staircase to my left, but my gaze drifts farther—past the dining room, past the living room with the greige sectional sofa—to the doors that lead outside.

Because even from here, I can see the twinkling lights of Monaco all around us.

“Oh!” I gasp. “That view looks amazing !”

“I can show it to you if you like,” Caleb says.

“Yes, please, I’d love to see it from the terrace.”

“Sure.” He extends his hand to me. My heart leaps inside my chest as I look down at it.

I put my hand in his, and Caleb entwines his fingers with mine. I can’t believe he’s holding my hand, or the intense physical reaction I’m having to this simple touch.

He leads me through his penthouse to the back doors, and then he ushers me outside. It’s a huge terrace, with sectional sofas and sun loungers, but that’s not what interests me at the moment.

It’s the view that has all of my attention.

Because I’ve never seen anything like it in my life.

We’re high up in the hills, looking down over Monaco. Lights from the buildings built into the hillsides illuminate the darkness, and I can see the mountains that surround us. I can also see the lights shimmering on the surface of the Mediterranean Sea.

I go over to the railing and let go of Caleb’s hand for a moment. I put both hands on it, leaning forward, feeling the breeze kiss my skin as I stare out at the country that is both wrapped around and below me. “This is beautiful,” I gasp, awestruck. “You get to see everything from here.”

“You should see it in the morning,” Caleb says. “Under the sun, with the turquoise water of the sea? You can’t beat the view.”

I get a picture of this terrace basked in sunlight and how visible everything must be during the day. But then a thought strikes me, and panic rises in my chest. I whirl around to face him. “Paparazzi. Do they snap you up here? With long-lens cameras? Could they be taking pictures of us right now?”

An amused smile plays at the corners of his mouth. “No. They can’t.”

I furrow my brow. “They can’t? What do you mean?”

“It means,” Caleb says, moving closer until he’s mere inches from me, “that Monaco has strict privacy laws. If you want to take professional pictures, you have to receive written permission from the government first. I can’t stop an individual from grabbing a shot of me walking in Monte Carlo and throwing it up on social media, but no tabloid photographers can take pictures of me here. ”

Relief courses through me.

“And most of my neighbors are billionaires and millionaires. They don’t care who I am or what I do for a living anyway.”

“Oh. Well, that makes sense.”

“Relieved?” he asks, quirking a brow.

“You’re very good at reading my facial expressions. Maybe you should be a journalist.”

“Let me think about that. No, ” he says instantly, and it makes me laugh.

I turn around and stare back out over Monte Carlo below me, and Caleb joins me next to the railing. His arm brushes against mine, and I tingle from the contact.

“Are you happy here? I mean, do you miss England at all?” I ask.

“I’ll admit I moved here for tax reasons,” Caleb says, referring to the generous tax benefits that induce the uber rich to relocate to Monaco.

“But I like it here. I can hike and cycle with my trainer in the hills. I have the sea. The climate is brilliant, and it’s a nice central location for all the air travel I have to do during the season.

I still go to England for simulator work at the Collings Motors headquarters, so I get plenty of time there, too.

Do you see yourself leaving the States one day?

Not like what you are doing now, but on a permanent basis? ”

“Yes, I do. I mean, I knew if I got my dream job in F1, commuting from the States would be hard.”

“Half the grid lives here in Monaco. Mason moved over here—he lives in that building,” Caleb says, pointing to the one next door.

“Does Xavier live here?” I ask.

The corners of his mouth pull up in a smile. “Yep. We bike together, have dinner, play padel.”

“But you don’t do those things with Mason.”

“No. Like I said, we’re teammates. We get on well enough. But people want us to be best friends, so that narrative is out there on social media. Like calling us ‘Maleb’ or some stupid shit like that.”

I bite back a laugh. I’ve seen Maleb online as the official name of their so-called bromance.

“Where do you see yourself in Europe?” Caleb asks.

“London for now. It certainly helps that The Downforce Network is based there—and they’re providing me with temporary housing.” I shake my head. “It’s crazy. I still can’t believe this is real. It’s all happening so fast.”

“Does that include us?”

I stare up at him. “No. My career taking off the way it has, me moving to a new country by next week, my videos going viral on social media—that all feels very fast. Like I blink and something new is happening. It’s a lot to take in, but I’m so privileged and happy to be in the spot I’m at.

But what is happening between us? No, it doesn’t feel too fast. It feels right. ”

Caleb’s eyes linger on my face for what seems like a long time. “I think so, too,” he says.

I suddenly feel warm all over, both from his words and the way he’s looking so intently at me. I shift my gaze away from Caleb and look at the landscape around us. “I can see why you like it here. It’s beautiful. And the view from here is perfect.”

“It is.”

I feel his gaze on my profile. I turn and look at him, and his eyes don’t leave my face.

“It’s perfect,” he says softly, and I know he’s not talking about Monaco.

Caleb is talking about me.

The breeze blows my hair around, and I’m about to push it back into place when Caleb reaches up and gently brushes a lock of hair away from my face, his calloused fingertips sliding ever so gently against my cheekbone. Every nerve I have singes with his touch, and my gaze falls to his lips.

Never have I wished for a kiss in the way I’m wishing for one right now. I lift my gaze to meet his, only to find he’s already staring down at me.

I hold my breath. And I swear he does, too.

Caleb’s fingertips trace my jawline, then move to my chin, tilting my face up.

I think I’m about to combust. I’m hot all over, and my heart is pounding against my ribs so hard I might actually break one.

“I was going to treat this like a proper date. I mean, as much as we can have one here in my house,” Caleb says. “Dinner. Flirting. Time in the pool. Then I was going to make my move at the end of the night.”

My pulse quickens. My gaze drops to his full mouth again. “Was?” I ask.

His thumb reaches up and traces slowly across my lower lip, and my breath hitches in response. “You’re different. The fact that I asked you on a date makes you different. The fact that I brought you to my home makes you different. And the fact that I want to kiss you right now makes you different.”

I swallow as his thumb continues to stroke my lip.

“I want,” he says, his voice low with need, “to kiss you.”

OH GOD, YES PLEASE!

Caleb dips his head. His mouth hovers right above mine. I close my eyes, but he hesitates. I feel his breath across my lips and inhale the cologne lingering on his skin. It’s hot and sensual, and I tremble in anticipation.

“Tell me I can kiss you, Isla. Tell me,” he commands.

Caleb is seeking consent. And it’s the hottest thing EVER.

“Kiss me,” I plead, sliding my hand up to the nape of his neck. “Please kiss me”

And the next thing I know, his lips are on mine.