Page 29 of Lights Out (Love in the Paddock #1)

Caleb’s mouth instantly demands access to mine as his hands sink into my hair. I open for him, desperate to taste him. To know his kiss.

His tongue immediately sweeps inside. The feeling is greedy.

Urgent. I kiss him back the same way, my tongue warring with his.

It’s hot. Intense. I eagerly begin to map everything about him.

From the sexy, commanding way he’s kissing me to the taste of peppermint on his tongue.

His facial scruff is burning against my skin, and I freaking love the way it feels.

My whole body is responding to him now, with everything coiling tight inside of me.

Just from his kiss.

One of his hands slides down my neck, and a groan escapes my throat. Caleb immediately swallows the sound, and it’s the sexiest thing ever.

“Keep kissing me like this, Isla,” he commands against my lips. “I can’t get enough of you.”

Oh. My. God.

I kiss him back in the way he wants. The way I want. I kiss him deeply, and it elicits a primal growl from his lips. Then he breaks the kiss just long enough to draw my lower lip between his teeth, and I gasp when he sucks it.

“Christ, you taste so damn good,” he murmurs against my mouth, his words hot against my lips.

My pulse has never raced like this in my life.

His hands roam to my back. Mine move to his shoulders, then travel to his face, and end up back in his hair again. He draws me tighter into his body. It’s hard and lean and perfect against mine.

Finally Caleb pulls back. We both gasp for air, and I move my hands to his solid chest. I feel his heart pounding underneath my palm.

Neither one of us says anything. Our eyes are locked on each other, taking in what just happened between us.

I know he’s different. Caleb tells me I’m different.

But this kiss?

This kiss is unlike anything I’ve ever known.

And now that I’ve had it? It’s all I ever want to know.

Caleb moves one hand to the back of my head, and his fingers caress my hair in a gentle, protective manner.

“I have never kissed anyone in the way I just kissed you,” he says.

I hear wonderment in his voice. Then, as if to punctuate his point, he brushes his lips against my forehead in a sweet kiss.

“Well, to be fair, I am different,” I say, grinning at him.

A smile lights up his face, and I grow all warm and happy inside.

“You are,” he says, brushing his thumb over my lower lip again. “Your lips are swollen.”

I put my hand over his and playfully kiss his thumb. “Not swollen enough. Perhaps you can take care of that in the pool. If you have one,” I add, arching an eyebrow at him.

“What? What do you mean by that?” Caleb asks, his eyes dancing at me.

I lift one shoulder in a shrug. “I don’t see a pool up here.”

“Ah,” he says. “So I made it up to get you to come over.”

“Possibly. I mean, I didn’t know how you kissed when you asked me. Because if I would have known that, you could have invited me to a dental cleaning, and I would have been excited to come.”

Another mystified but amused expression passes over his gorgeous face. “I’ve never met anyone like you, Isla.”

I reach up and frame his face in my hands. “Because I’m weird? And I don’t flirt like a normal person?”

He chuckles. “Well, yes.”

“But you’re here for it all the same.”

“Oh, I’m here for it,” he says, moving his hands to my waist. I’m momentarily distracted by feeling the heat of his hand on my bare skin in the cutout on the dress. I might have to buy this dress instead of renting it if it’s going to reap these benefits.

“I have a confession,” I tell him.

“Go on.”

“I would have gone anywhere you asked me tonight, before knowing how you kiss,” I say seriously. “I wanted to be with you.”

Caleb’s expression grows serious. Then he dips his head and kisses me again. This kiss is completely different. It’s slow. Sweet. Exploring me in a whole new way.

And I want more of it.

He breaks the kiss. “Come on. I have something to show you.” Caleb takes my hand and leads me around the terrace, and to my surprise, I find there’s a whole other side.

With a pool surrounded by a wall of tall plants strategically placed for privacy.

“The pool,” he says simply.

“Oh, you even have cacti!” I say, looking at one end of the pool.

“I didn’t think that would be the big selling point, but yes, I have cacti,” he says dryly.

I giggle at that, and he chuckles.

“Isla?”

“Yeah?”

Caleb is silent for a moment before speaking, and I wonder what he’s thinking so carefully about.

“Thank you for taking so many risks for me,” he finally says. “The risk is all on your part. Don’t think I don’t understand that, because I do.”

I take in his words. I’m touched that he feels the need to acknowledge this to me.

“And I will do whatever it takes to protect you—and your privacy—from the media and the public,” he says, sounding determined.

I move around so I’m not standing beside him, but in front of him.

Caleb puts his hands on my waist again, and I put mine on his forearms. “I know dating me has challenges that dating other women doesn’t come with,” I say.

“You’re going to have to sacrifice doing things—at least for the time being—like going out to dinner or getting a coffee in public, so we can keep this between us and our friends.

I can’t take the risk of The Downforce Network getting wind of this while we’re getting to know each other. ”

“There’s more than that,” Caleb says. “Fans on social media can be ruthless. They’ll write horrible things about you simply because you’re with me—and that’s without you working for The Downforce Network. Your position will make all of that a thousand times worse.”

I think about things I’ve seen online about some of the wives and girlfriends of drivers. People can be ruthless. Cruel. I’ve even seen death threats, which is so sick and disturbing, I can barely get my head around someone even typing that.

And they will turn their poison on me for being a racing reporter who landed one of the hottest drivers in Formula 1. They will say I got this job to get to him. Or that I used him to get my position at The Downforce Network.

I swallow. The fallout will be awful. But my thoughts don’t waver as I stare up at Caleb.

He’s a risk worth taking. No matter how big it is.

* * *

I stare at the arrangement of food Caleb has put out on the kitchen island and my jaw drops open. I’ve never seen a more exquisite selection of sushi and sashimi in my life. That includes nice restaurants in Miami.

But it’s just another way this evening is perfect. When we were talking one night, I told Caleb I was craving sushi, and how it is one of my very favorite things to eat, so what does the man do? He invites me over and gives me a surprise sushi dinner.

“This is almost too pretty to eat,” I say, studying the spread laid out before me.

“No, you have to eat it,” Caleb says, handing me a set of chopsticks. “This is from my favorite place in Monte Carlo, and it’s brilliant. It’s so fresh, it practically melts in your mouth.”

“I will trust your endorsement.” I pick up a plate and study my options. “Okay, I recognize salmon, yellowtail, and tuna sashimi.” I point my chopsticks at an unfamiliar piece of fish. “What is that?”

“Red mullet,” Caleb says, putting some on his plate.

“Oh, I’ve never had that. What does it taste like? And don’t say chicken!”

He laughs. God, I love that I can make this serious man laugh.

“Will you stab me in the eye with a chopstick if I say it tastes like chicken?”

“That’s a rather violent thing to accuse me of being capable of,” I say playfully.

Caleb’s mouth pulls up into a smile. “But will you?”

“No,” I say, pretending to mull it over. “But I might poke you in the arm.” Then I playfully poke him in the arm with my chopstick.

Caleb laughs again. “Okay. I won’t tell you it tastes like chicken. But what if it really does?”

“Does it?”

“No.”

We both laugh.

“It kinda tastes like shellfish,” he says.

“Okay, that’s good enough for me,” I say, putting some on my plate.

Caleb takes his plate to the kitchen table, which overlooks the terrace. “What do you want to drink? I have wine and beer, if you’d like that.”

“No, water is fine.” I take my plate and go to the seat across from him at the table. “I have to get up really early tomorrow to create my own content before doing stuff for TV.”

He nods and brings two glasses of water to the table.

“Thank you,” I say.

“You’re welcome. So what are you doing for F2 this weekend?” he asks as he takes his seat.

“I’m meeting up with the drivers of Skadi Motorsport to learn how they train for reaction times,” I say, picking up the red-mullet sashimi with my chopsticks.

“They’ll show me how they do the training with hitting the lights, juggling, all that stuff.

Then I’ll try it, which will be comedy because I know I’ll be terrible.

Then I’ll also do a little Q and A with the drivers, too. ”

I pause to eat the red mullet, and Caleb is right—this does taste like shellfish! “Caleb, this is delicious,” I say after I finish my bite.

“It’s one of my favorites. So is that your only assignment for the network this weekend?”

I nod. “Yes. I know they’re working on scheduling guests for Outside the Cockpit , but that will take time to coordinate.

So I plan to do some more segments for my channels, like explaining little details about the race I’ve dug up, or even some things about Monaco itself.

Then I have the Emilia Wentworth-Hay party on Friday night. ”

“I got an invite to that,” Caleb says casually.

“You did? Are you going?” I ask, excited by the prospect of seeing him again tomorrow night.

“I wasn’t planning on it until I found out you got invited.

” He pauses to eat a piece of sushi. After he swallows, he looks at me.

“I would love to see you there if you’re comfortable with that.

It would be normal for us to talk for a few minutes.

” A scowl passes over his face. “Before I have to go to another function.”

“Don’t stop by just to see me,” I reassure him.

“But seeing you would be the one part of the night I would enjoy .”

SWOON.

“What is Friday’s party?” I ask.

“On some yacht. Catherine has the details. She knows to tell me tomorrow where to show up and how to dress.”

I begin to laugh, and he stares at me. “What? They’re boring .”

“You are going to a party on a yacht, in Monaco. That sounds pretty fabulous.”

The scowl remains. “It’s not, trust me. It’s just another sponsor event where I have to dress up and entertain people I don’t know.”

“But they’re important people for your team and your career,” I point out.

The scowl deepens. “I’d rather be sim racing.”

Of course he would. I know several drivers do simulator racing to keep their skills sharp, and even race on live streams. He does that with Xavier quite a bit.

“Well, I can’t get you out of your yacht obligation, but what can I do to take that scowl off your face?”

The scowl is instantly replaced by a mischievous look. “Let me see you in your swimming costume.”

I giggle. “ Swimming costume? ”

“Yeah, why are you laughing like that?”

“It’s a swimsuit.”

“How American of you to declare your phrase is the appropriate one,” he says before popping a piece of tuna into his mouth.

“You realize because we’re dating, we’re going to have to learn to speak each other’s language.”

“Oh, I think we’ve already discovered that we’re very compatible in one way of speaking, and I don’t remember using any words at all.”

I feel my cheeks grow warm, and he grins wickedly at me. We continue to eat—and flirt—and one thing remains at the forefront of my mind.

I can’t wait to have a certain kind of conversation with him in the swimming pool.

One that uses no words at all.