Page 30 of Lights Out (Love in the Paddock #1)

I’m ready.

I set my brush on the marble countertop of the guest bathroom. I’ve brushed out my hair, but I haven’t pulled it up. I don’t care if it gets wet. I love the water, and if I’m in it, I’m swimming.

Caleb told me he’d meet me out by the pool, and anticipation builds within me when I think about seeing him in swim trunks and being in the water with him, skin to skin—

Is it suddenly hot in here? WHEW.

I shift my focus back to the reflection before me in the mirror.

I’ve got a black bikini set on and it’s my favorite—a black triangle top with two bamboo rings connecting the fabric to the spaghetti straps, which tie around my neck.

The bottom is also string tied, with the same bamboo rings on each hip.

The backside is a little daring, flashing some cheek, but why not give Caleb something to salivate over?

It’s only fair. Because I know I’ll be DROOLING over seeing his cut abs.

Speaking of Caleb, it’s time to meet him for a sexy dip in his rooftop pool.

I leave the bathroom and make my way out to the terrace.

Once again, I’m awed by the view of Monaco up here in the hills.

Lights from the buildings next to us are twinkling all around, and I can see the lights from all the boats in the harbor, too.

Add in the crescent moon and stars overhead, and it’s incredibly romantic.

I make my way around to the side with the pool and spot Caleb, who is putting down some fluffy white towels on a lounge chair.

His back is to me, and as he moves, I can see muscles rippling across his skin, from his shoulders all the way down his back.

Caleb can’t be super muscular—he has to be able to fit into a very narrow cockpit—but he is sculpted .

Like a work of art.

He turns around, and my pulse quickens when I get a view of the front of his body. I take in the muscular cuts in his shoulders. His developed chest. The veins running through his arms.

Then there are Caleb’s abdominals. I’m not prepared for this.

Caleb has more than a six-pack. He has an eight-pack .

I should know. I just counted every single glorious, hard, cut muscle.

My throat grows dry. I was wrong. His body is more than a work of art. Caleb’s body is a freaking masterpiece.

I tear my eyes away from his torso and see his navy swim trunks hanging off his hips, revealing that sexy V-shape.

His legs are sculpted, too. Not bulky, but defined.

I lift my eyes to meet his, and I find he’s appraising me in the same way.

Caleb’s eyes roam over my body, drinking me in from top to bottom.

When his eyes meet mine, I see nothing but heat in them.

“I didn’t know if I wanted you to get out of that sexy dress,” he says, his voice low. “But seeing you in this bikini? You look so hot .”

I move toward him. “Thank you. And I can say the same about you.” It takes all my willpower not to look at his abs again. I’ve never seen an eight-pack in person.

I wonder what it would feel like to touch them.

Caleb puts his hands on my hips, but he frowns as he stares down at me.

“What?” I ask.

“Your hair. It’s going to get wet.”

“Yes, because I’m going to swim.”

“You are?”

Now I’m the one who is looking up at him with a furrowed brow. “Didn’t you invite me over to do that?”

“Well, yeah, but a lot of women don’t want to mess up their hair.”

“I’m not a lot of women.”

And to prove my point, I get in the pool.

It’s heated, so the temperature is perfect.

I dive completely under the water and swim all the way to the other end before surfacing for air.

I pop up, feel the cool breeze hit my skin, and immediately submerge myself so my shoulders are under water and I won’t be chilled. “Are you coming in?” I ask.

Caleb’s mouth quirks up in a sexy smile. “Do you want me to?”

My heart skips a beat. “Come in and find out,” I flirt back.

Caleb enters the water and swims toward me in strong, long strokes. He stops a few feet from me and then walks to where I’m at. He’s a good two feet above the water, and his hands find my hips. I stand straight up, staring at the water dripping off his muscular body.

So. Damn. Hot.

I reach up and wind my arms around his neck, and now our wet bodies are pressed together. “I’m glad you’re in the water with me.”

“Me, too,” Caleb says, lowering his mouth to mine.

I entangle my fingers in his wet hair as his tongue explores my mouth. This kiss is slow. Sensual. Completely different than the first kiss, and I relish it. One of his hands moves around my back, and I moan in pleasure at the sensation of his touch in the water.

Then I feel his whole body go hard against mine, flush with need.

For me.

I feel emboldened to touch him. I move my hands down to his shoulders.

Then his chest, feeling the wetness of his skin and the sculpted muscles.

Caleb moves his hands around to my rib cage, sliding up toward my breasts, but stopping just short before oh so slowly sliding back down my body and resting on my hip bones, his fingers toying with the bamboo rings on my bikini bottoms.

I move my hands back up to his hair, drawing him closer, kissing him deeply as the water laps gently against our bodies.

A groan escapes from him, and then he moves his lips to my throat, and I feel his tongue flicker over my skin, traveling down the length of it, then moving to my shoulder. He playfully takes a nip at my bikini string, his tongue and teeth dancing along my shoulder, and the move nearly undoes me.

“Isla?” he murmurs sexily into my skin.

“Yeah?” I manage to reply.

Caleb lifts his head. He lowers his mouth toward mine but doesn’t kiss me. “I know we’re taking time to get to know each other, but I don’t want to see anyone else,” he says softly, his words a gentle caress against my lips. “I only want to be with you.”

My heart pounds against my ribs. He’s saying everything I’ve been thinking, and I’m elated to hear those words pass his lips.

“Do you want the same thing?” he asks as one hand moves to my lower back again, rubbing it up and down. “Because I don’t think I can handle the idea of you being with any other man like this.”

“I don’t want to share you with any other woman,” I say. “I can’t.”

Nothing is said for a moment, but the air between us is charged with emotional understanding.

Caleb isn’t willing to share me, either.

He brushes his lips against mine, and his kiss says everything that needs to be said.

And I know, without a doubt, I fell a little bit more for Caleb Collings tonight.

* * *

It’s another pinch-me moment in Monaco.

Well, to be honest, I’ve been pinching myself ever since my date with Caleb last night. I got home late, but I couldn’t sleep. Thoughts of him kept flooding my mind. The way he looked at me. Touched me. Responded to things I said and listened to me …

And oh God, the way he kissed me.

I think I kept my fingertips on my lips half the night as I lay awake in bed, thinking of his kisses over and over again.

Needless to say, I’m operating on very little sleep and a lot of caffeine. But I don’t care.

My mind has managed to shift from Caleb to what I’m doing right now.

It’s a glorious Friday morning in Monaco, with blue skies and brilliant sunshine overhead.

Monte Carlo is still waking up—no doubt sleeping in from some partying at clubs or yachts last night—but I’m already full of energy at this early hour.

I’m getting ready to shoot another segment for The Downforce Network. I’m standing in front of our location, mini mic in hand, eager to get to work.

“Are you ready, Isla?” Luke, today’s intern, asks me. He’s doing the shooting with an iPhone, because this is going to be social media content.

I nod.

“Recording,” he says.

“Hello, I’m Isla Foley, and today I’m going to take you behind the scenes at the Monaco Grand Prix.

Specifically, I’m taking you to the paddock for Formula 2 this weekend.

I’m at Parking Chemin des Pecheurs, a car park here in Monaco.

And would you believe the top two levels of this car park serve as the paddock for F2 for the weekend?

I have to say, you really can’t beat the scenery here.

I have a view of the harbor on one side, rock on the other.

The teams call this Alcatraz, because the car park is partially built into the rock, and is located on the other side of the Rock of Monaco. ”

I explain how the cars are pushed downhill to the circuit when it’s time for practice, qualifying, and the race—and where they will use F1 garages, too.

“I haven’t come to the F2 paddock today for the view, but to meet with the drivers for Skadi Motorsport—points leader Maks Mlakar and his teammate, Fionn O’Riley—to see just how they learn to sharpen those finely-tuned reaction times that drivers need. So let’s go on in and catch up with them.”

I tell Luke I’m done recording this bit, so he stops shooting and I walk with him into the paddock.

Once inside, he begins recording again, with me pointing out what we see—everything from the motorhomes to the racks of tires to mechanics working on the cars ahead of the qualifying session this afternoon.

We stop when I get that and make our way to the Skadi motorhome.

We’re quickly greeted by one of their communications liaison officers, Victor. He escorts us inside.

“I hope it’s okay that we split your time with the drivers,” he says. “You’ll do reaction activities with Maks, and your interview with Fionn.”

“That’s fine,” I say. And it really is. It’s not what I was scheduled to do, but I can make it work.

I’m escorted into Maks’s room—not nearly as big or as nice as the ones Caleb and Mason have with Collings Motors, but this is F2. Maks is a gifted driver. I have a feeling the handsome brown-haired, hazel-eyed Slovenian will have a seat in F1 very soon.

“Hi, Isla, good to see you again,” he says in lightly-accented English, flashing me a smile.