Accelerated Passion (18 page)

“Yeah, right.” She sat and stretched her arms over her head.

“I got you this.” Henri thrust something long and brown at her. It was dripping at the end.

“Mmm, nice. Thank you.”

“It’s a lake lollipop. Delicious.”

It was a stick with swirl of green weed wrapped around the end.

“Eat it,” Henri said, his eyes wide.

Frankie pretended to take a lick. “Mmm, yummy.”

Henri giggled. “I know.” He then cupped his hand around his mouth and leaned close. “Don’t really eat it, though. Daddy said it will give us a tummy ache.”

“Okay, I won’t.” She nodded seriously.

Dean picked up the oars. “Hold on to Heinz.”

“I will.” Henri reached for his dog and hugged him close. He sat next to Frankie and pressed his little body to hers. “I’m tired.”

“Me, too.” Frankie ran her hand over his hair. It was short and smooth like Dean’s. “But we’re going back now. Soon you’ll be home.”

“But I’ve had a nice day.
Mama
says I get extra tired when I’ve had a nice day.”

“I think that’s true for us all.” She smiled at Dean as she wrapped her arm around Henri so he could relax back and rest. “I’m tired, too.”

When they dropped Henri off at home, Frankie once again stayed in the car.

Dean spoke to Bridget on the doorstep for a moment.

She wondered if he ever got invited in.

“Well, that was a success, don’t you think?” he said as he dropped back into the Porsche.

“Yes, for sure, and it was really special to meet Henri. He’s great.”

“You think?” He grinned at her as he buckled up. It was obvious he thought Henri was the best child to have ever been born.

“Yes, one hundred percent. And so like you.”

“Well…” He shrugged. “I like to think so, but…”

“Oh, he is. His features, mannerisms, sense of adventure.”

He started the car then revved the engine several times over. “Talking of adventures.”

“Don’t you dare wheel spin out of this quiet cul-de-sac.”

He laughed. “No, not that. But I do have an idea.” A wicked glint crossed over his eyes.

“Oh, do you now?” A thrill went through her. What did this sexy man have in mind for the rest of their day together?

“Have you got your keys in your purse?”

“Which keys?”

“The ones for the workshop, at the track.”

“Well, yes, but…”

“No buts. That’s all I needed to know.”

“I thought I was on a day off.”

“Oh, you are, you most definitely are.”

He pulled away calmly, but there was nothing calm about Frankie. She fidgeted on the seat. She’d felt relaxed after their lovely day in the sun doing nothing except enjoying being together and with Henri.

But now…

What on earth was going through that head of his?

The heat of the day had gone by the time they reached the track, but Frankie still felt hot. The lingering caress of the sun had warmed the skin on her shoulders and heated her cheeks. As they’d parked and headed through security, she’d only gotten hotter.

Dean rested his hand at the small of her back as they climbed the steps over the pedestrian bridge leading to the central, staff-only part of the track. It was quiet, hardly anyone about, and the shadows were lengthening.

But even so, the smell of fuel and hot tarmac lingered in the air. There was always a buzz of anticipation around the workshops even when the drivers and mechanics weren’t there.

Frankie loved it. She loved everything about it.

Right now, she was also in danger of falling in love with the man only a pace behind her.

“Why are we here?” she asked again.

“You’ll have to wait and see.” He slipped his hand from her back to her ass and gave it a cheeky squeeze.

“Dean.” She quickened her pace up the steps.

“There’s no one here to see me groping my hot lead mechanic.”

She giggled. “Maybe I don’t want to be groped.”

“But I know you do.” He caught up with her as they crossed the bridge.

Frankie stopped and rested her hand on the rail. She pointed into the distance. “This track is evil.”

“I know.” He came to a halt and followed her line of sight.

“You have to be careful. That S bend there especially.”

“I know.” He huffed, but there was amusement in the sound. “I’ve done it before, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“Yes, but…still, you have to be careful.” How many times had she seen drivers do this circuit, Dean Cudditch included? Many more than she could count. But something felt different now. Dean was…well, he was special, more special to her than the other drivers.

She knew the scent of his skin, the taste of him, the feel of him inside her. A shiver trickled over her shoulders, and she couldn’t hold in the tremble. What if something happened to him? How would she cope?

“Hey,” he said, nudging his shoulder against hers. “It’s my job, and I’m really fucking good at it.”

“I know.” She turned to him and forced a smile.

“And I’ve got the best team on the planet backing me up.”

Frankie nodded. “Yes.”

“So nothing has changed. I’ll qualify tomorrow, pole position is my plan, and then whoop everyone’s ass on race day.”

She blew out a breath. “Good plan. Whoop those asses.”

“But right now.” He leaned a little closer. “I have other plans for the car.”

“You do?”

“Yep, so come on.” He turned and began to stride away.

Frankie hurried after him.

As they headed to McLaren’s dedicated area, she could see light coming from beneath the doors of a couple of pit workshops. A few last minute issues no doubt being dealt with by weary mechanics.

When they reached their workshop, Dean stopped at the locked door. “Your keys.”

Frankie delved into her bag. “Here.”

He unlocked the door, and they stepped into the silence.

He shut the door behind them, blocking out the dusky light, and flicked the lock. The huge doors that led to the pit stop were closed, creating a big blank wall.

Frankie stared through the gloom.

His car—their carbon fiber and aluminum baby—sat in the center of the full but obsessively neat area. Spare parts filled the walls in ordered patterns, and trolleys stacked with tires and tools were pushed up to form neat rows. Everything was organized, ready for tomorrow.

Dean flicked on a light over the small office area. A milky glow spread across the pale grey floor, and the car adopted its usual shine.

“Is there a problem with it?” she asked, walking up to the nose end.

“No.”

She pressed the tip of her finger to the surface and smoothed over the word McLaren. “This machine is beautiful.”

“You really love Formula One, don’t you?” He was right behind her.

“Yeah, I guess. Always have and always will.”

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close.

She molded herself to him, more than happy to be in his arms and feel the strength of his body pushing up against hers.

“The machine is beautiful,” he set a gentle kiss on her lips, “but nothing compared to you.”

“I’m not beautiful.” She shook her head.

He frowned. “Why would you say that?”

“I’m a tomboy. I don’t have long blonde hair, big tits, and I’m certainly not into makeup and fancy clothes.”

He raised his eyebrows as though surprised by this outburst. “You think those things make a woman beautiful?”

“Well, yeah, isn’t that why you sleep with groupies?” She pulled in a breath. Why the hell was she starting this conversation now?

“Bloody hell.” He shook his head and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “For the record, I no longer sleep with groupies, haven’t for a while, years, in fact.”

“You don’t?”

“No.” He shook his head. “Sex is great, yeah. I won’t deny I couldn’t live without it, but sex with no emotion, no deeper connection… Let’s just say that gets old, and I’m over it.”

“So you’re not into one-night-stands?”

“Not anymore.” He paused. “And definitely not with you.”

Her mind spun. She ran her hands down his back, tracing the shape of his spine and the thickly roped muscles that lined it. “I don’t understand.”

“All I’m trying to say is I want more from my future than a string of women whose faces and names blur into one. I want…” He paused and kissed her, pulled her closer. “I want someone to spend time with in
and
out of bed.”

She swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. Had Dean been thinking the same things as her? That maybe their connection, their attraction, could turn into something more?

“I enjoyed today,” she managed.

“Me, too. In fact, I enjoyed spending time with you on a boat nearly as much as enjoyed being in bed with you last night.”

“Nearly?” She raised her eyebrows.

“Come on, I’m a bloke. Rowing or sex?” He chuckled. “Sex is always going to win out. And sex with you… Well, let’s just say your sexy little body really hits the spot for me.”

Frankie giggled. “You hit the spot for me, too.”

He slanted his mouth over hers and kissed her. In an instant, the atmosphere changed. His breaths increased, blowing hot and hard on her cheek. He roamed his hands to her ass and dragged her close, pulling her against his groin.

She moaned into his mouth as the solidity of his erection, even through material, sent a shot of lust through her body. Damn it, she wanted him. Now.

But, God, could they? Here?

“Frankie,” he murmured, slipping his hands to the base of her T-shirt. “I need you.”

“But…” Frankie said.

“No buts. We’re all alone.” Dean pulled her top over her head then dropped it onto the floor.

She reached for his T-shirt, did the same with it as he’d done to hers. The sight of his broad, hair-sprinkled chest rising and falling because of his fast, excited breaths threw any last thoughts of not fucking out of the window.

She’d held herself back all day, been turned on by him since this morning. Now was the time to satisfy her urges.

She reached for the top button on his jeans and popped it open.

He reached around her back and released her bra. As it loosened, his gaze drifted to her breasts.

She let the bra fall to the floor then resumed her work on his pants.

“For the record, you have the best tits ever,” he said, tweaking her nipples then cupping the undersides in his palms.

She smiled. Dean made her feel beautiful and desired, and she wasn’t going to argue with that.

“And you have a very cute cock.” She shoved at his jeans, and they landed around his thighs.

“Cute?” He raised his eyebrows. “That’s not quite the description I was hoping to hear.”

She giggled and delved her hand past the waistband of his boxers. She gripped his dick and, at the same time, ran her hand to the back of his neck. “How about big, hard, and ready to go?” she said onto his lips.

“Yeah.” He stared down at her. A muscle flexed in his cheek. “Add on unleashed.”

“Unleashed. I like that.” She kissed him.

But the kiss only lasted a second before he took her hand from his boxers and steered her to the end of the car.

“Dean?”

“This is where I want you.” He stooped, pushed at his shoes then removed his jeans. He shoved at his boxers and took his cock in his hand. Standing straight, tall, and naked, he set his attention on her. The same wicked glint that had crossed his eyes in the car, when he’d asked her if she had the keys, was back.

Frankie tore her gaze from his cock, the way he was working it with his hand—so fucking hot—and looked at the car sitting low at her side. “I’m not sure.”

“Strip,” he said, “then bend the hell over. I want you to hold the wheel, the wing, whatever is handy, but just don’t break it.”

Bloody hell.

“I have a good memory when it comes to you,” he said. “And you mentioned a filthy little fantasy about getting fucked over an F1 car.” He looked down at his cock and tensed his abs. “Fantasy coming up.”

Frankie thought her heart was going to speed into overdrive. Adrenaline pumped around her system. Get fucked over the car they all worshipped and spent their days perfecting. It was worth millions.

“Don’t make me rip your clothes off because you’ll have nothing to go back to the house in by the time I’ve torn them at the seams.”

“Yes, okay.” Quickly, she undid her jeans and pushed them down. She stepped on them, pulling them off with her feet, her breasts jiggling as she did so.

“Panties,” he said, nodding at the small white lace knickers she wore. “Now.”

Hurriedly, she rolled them down her legs, kicked them aside.

Now they were both naked and seriously turned on in the place they were normally in work mode; busy, concentrating, amongst colleagues.

“Woman, your fantasy has turned into my fantasy.” He stepped closer.

The heat from his body poured onto hers, and the scent of his faded aftershave and sun lotion filled her nose.

“Good.”

“Can you take it…all of it…?” He glanced at his cock, still in his hand.

“You know I can.”

He slipped his hand over her head and gripped the base of her ponytail. He yanked it.

She gasped, the stitch of discomfort in her scalp adding to the tingling sensation that trembled over her skin.

“What I mean is…” His lips were a whisper from hers. “Can you take if I just unleash my need for you?” As he spoke, he twisted her hair into his fist.

“Dean?”

“Sometimes a man likes to fuck, really fuck, hard. Can you handle that? I need to know.”

“I can handle anything you want to give me.” And she could. She wanted it all. To have Dean lose control. Surrender to desire, give in to passion—she could think of nothing sexier.

He curled the corners of his mouth into a predatory smile then slammed his lips down on hers.

His hands were everywhere now as he explored her nakedness. Their chests mashed together, her nipples scratching against his body hair.

Frankie gripped his biceps, loving the way his muscles flexed as he touched her.

“Damn it, I need to be in you.” He twisted her to face the car. Then, with firm pressure in the center of her back, he pushed her to ninety degrees.