Breathless in Love

She kissed him then, with everything she had in her. Tasted him, savored him, and took his hard heat between her naked thighs, putting on protection at the same time. Then she took him deep inside. So deep that their coming together stole her breath, his breath, even stopped the beating of their hearts for one endless, perfect moment.

  "Harper."

  She drew everything from him then, with her body, her soul. Over and over, faster, harder, her hands, her mouth, taking him higher, deeper, until he cried her name, guttural words spilling out.

  She recognized love, she recognized you. And for the first time, as she followed him over the edge of a greater bliss than she'd ever known, she let herself fully drink in his emotion...and the undeniable truth that he was quickly becoming everything to her.

  *

  Will had never known peace. Not until this moment. He'd always been fighting--to make more money, to best a business opponent, to drive the fastest car, to introduce his clients to the perfect caviar or the ultimate Swiss watch, to find the one thing in the world that everyone wanted and only he could provide.

  He'd been fighting his whole life to erase the kid he'd left behind in Chicago.

  Until Harper made love to him...and he realized he didn't need to fight anymore.

  She hadn't said she loved him, had even told him she needed more time. He understood that Harper--and Jeremy--had been hurt enough by men like him that she needed to think, to process, and to make absolutely sure she trusted him. But he swore he could feel her love in the way she looked at him with such emotion, in her touch, in the way she'd taken him to heaven and wouldn't let him leave.

  She rested her fingers on his tattoo. "If it bothers you so much, why haven't you gotten rid of it?"

  "It reminds me of where I came from." He could have left it at that, but she'd just given him so much. More than he'd ever hoped for. So he forced himself to give her more in return. "And it reminds me of where I never want to go again."

  He still couldn't believe she hadn't jumped from his bed and demanded that he take her home. That she didn't hate him.

  "Is that why you never let me take your clothes off? Why you wore a T-shirt when you were swimming with Noah?"

  "Almost no one has seen my tattoo. I'm careful to make sure they don't."

  She pressed a kiss to the center of his chest, right where it felt as if his heart was beating only for her. "So that makes me special, doesn't it?"

  Hauling her tight against him, he wanted her to feel the power she had over him. To know that she'd made his life good in a way it never had been before. In a way he'd never thought it could be. "So special you make me ache when I look at you."

  Her gaze roamed his face. She followed the look with her fingers. "You changed your life, changed who you are. If you ask me, you should let everyone see it."

  It stunned him that, like Susan, she saw his mark as a symbol of triumph rather than as the evidence of his worthlessness. She wanted him to recognize it, too. Just as Susan had said, Harper was good for him.

  In that moment, as he held her tight in his arms and she held him right back, Will vowed to do everything in his power to prove he could be good for her as well. He wouldn't let her down.

  No matter what.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  "I still can't believe you rented the entire Laguna Seca Raceway," Harper said a week later. "How is that even possible?"

  The man could do anything. He wasn't just amazing--he was completely overwhelming.

  Will hadn't sprung this trip to the racetrack on her, but checked with her first whether it was okay before mentioning it to her brother. "I swear," he'd said, "we'll keep it to one hundred twenty, tops. Slower in the turns."

  One hundred twenty. He'd said it as if she should be reassured by that number. She wasn't, of course, since one-twenty was way too fast. But he had promised to keep her brother safe, no matter what. And despite the blitz of fear at the thought of her brother going that fast in a car, she realized she trusted Will. Trusted him with Jeremy in a way she'd never trusted anyone else.

  Will's mechanic, Leland, had trailered the Cobra down to the Monterey Peninsula. Its paint job gleamed in the summer sun as it sat on the track. They'd both taken Friday off work for this, but the raceway wasn't empty. There were people working, mechanics along pit row, golf carts whizzing by.

  Jeremy and Will had helped Leland roll the Cobra out of the trailer. Harper had been expecting a gruff old guy with grease under his nails, but Leland was younger than Will, and reminded her of Elvis in some of his early racing movies.

  In the pits, Will had introduced them around, never letting go of her hand, the same way he'd kept her close when he'd introduced her during intermission that night at the theater. She'd been half expecting pictures of her and Will in the society blogs after that night, but there'd been nothing. Most likely because she hadn't even been worth the question, Who's the mystery woman with Will Franconi?

  Will, with his constant attention, erased any slight from the thought. Who cared about the society pages when he gazed at her with such heat, desire, and sweet emotion in his eyes?

  Leland, Will, and Jeremy were leaning over the open hood of the car out on the track, a small crowd of onlookers two steps behind observing the precheck procedure as if they were preparing for a flight around the world.

  "What do you think, Jeremy?" Will pointed at something Harper had no clue about. "Should we change the timing?"

  "That sounds good, Will," her brother agreed, his concentration intense. It was serious stuff when Will asked his opinion--and it always made Harper smile. And fall just a little bit more for her deliciously sweet billionaire.

  "Yep," Leland added. "Changing the timing will give you a little more torque and squeeze out a little more speed."

  Harper had no idea what any of that meant. She wasn't entirely sure that Jeremy did either, but he nodded gravely. She felt another flutter of emotion in her stomach. Will was so good to Jeremy, making him feel a part of things, as if he were a man instead of a kid.

  Leland was pointing into the engine. "But you'll have to watch out on the turns or you might lose the back end."

  A bald man gave Will a wrench as though he were a nurse handing the surgeon a scalpel. Every visible inch of skin except his face was armored with tattoos. His name was Zeke or Duke or something with a hard sound to it. There'd been too many names for her to catch. Everyone watched in silence, as if they were all holding their breath, Harper included.

  She didn't want the extra torque if it spelled danger. Before she'd worried only about Jeremy. Now her heart also went into a frenzy worrying about Will and his need for speed.

  He laid his hand on Jeremy's shoulder. "Lesson one with fast cars: Sometimes you've got to decide between putting a few more digits on your speedometer or making sure you don't crash. Safety first, right?"

  "Right, Will." Will was his hero, and Jeremy agreed with everything.

  "We're not going to do it," Will said as he handed the wrench back to Zeke/Duke, who tossed it into the tool chest.

  And Harper's tension eased. Will loved speed, but he wasn't crazy. He wouldn't take unnecessary risks, not with Jeremy. And now, she realized, not even with himself.

  She didn't know if it was a change she'd brought about; she only knew it was a worry she didn't need to carry any more. Will wouldn't let anything happen.

  "Okay, let's do it." Will slammed down the Cobra's hood. "Thanks, Dude." Okay, maybe the guy's name was Dude. "We're ready." He clapped Jeremy on the back.

  "Are we gonna get on the track now, Will?" Her brother was vibrating with energy.

  "We are. And we're going real fast today, too." But even as he said it, Will looked at her with silent communication, making sure she was still okay with it.

  He was so careful with her and with Jeremy and it made everything inside her melt as she gave him the barest of nods. And a smile. The one he sent in return flipped her inside out with pure sweetness.

  Their sma
ll audience lined the fence as Will handed a helmet to Jeremy. "There are rules for safety here, so you have to put this on."

  "Cool." Jeremy beamed as Will helped him with the chin strap. "It's like Grand Prix." Another of Jeremy's favorite old movies.

  Her brother waved at her from the passenger seat, his smile filling the entire open face of the helmet. Will started the engine, and the spectators gave a cheer as the vibration of the motor rumbled in her chest. Harper couldn't even begin to imagine what it would be like on race day with a horde of high-powered cars on the start line.

  And then they were gone, leaving only a rush of wind behind them and the phantom roar of a crowd.

  The scream of the car carried across the infield of the racetrack. She counted seconds that seemed to go on forever, then a minute, two minutes. The air moved first, as if it were dragging the car, then they blew past in a blur, Jeremy shrieking with delight. Her heart was in her throat, but it didn't top out there, rising up until she thought her head might explode. Or maybe that was the rumble of the motor pounding against her skull.

  They flashed by her four more times, raising her hair each time, until it fluttered back down in their wake. Will finally brought the Cobra to a stop right in front of her.

  "Wowowowow." Jeremy was pulsing with so much energy he couldn't even get the harness undone. Will helped, then reminded him, "Don't forget the pipes are hot when you get out."

  Jeremy climbed out with exaggerated movements. When he was free, he ran so fast he almost barreled right into her. Somehow Will was right there, too, a hand on their arms to steady both of them.

  "Your turn, Harper, your turn." Jeremy was high on the thrill of the ride, his eyes shining brightly under the rim of the helmet.

  Will didn't say anything, simply looked at her with those intense eyes that did amazing things to her body--a blush of heat, butterflies in her stomach.

  I love you.

  Even now, she could hear him saying the words in that beautiful, harsh, wild voice.

  In those early weeks with him, Harper had tried to use common sense, tried to keep things under control. But since that night in his penthouse a week ago, she couldn't even remember the definition of common sense. With every touch, her resistance melted. Her head told her to go slow, but when she was with Will, she wanted to hit the gas, rushing headlong wherever he wanted her to go. And all she wanted, every moment of every day, was this wonderful, sweet, and incredibly sexy man. One who'd trumped an unimaginable past.

  Which was why she couldn't say no, not to anything. Especially when she'd just let Jeremy ride beside Will. She shouldn't allow her brother to do something she wasn't willing to do herself.

  As if he could read her mind, and knew that the answer was yes, Will said, "Jeremy's helmet should fit you." He tugged at the chin strap and helped Jeremy pull it off.

  "Look at you." She fluffed the flatness out of Jeremy's helmet hair.

  He wriggled away just like a kid whose mom rubbed dirt away with a lick of her fingers. Will smiled as he watched the exchange.

  "Okay, Jeremy, back behind the fence so you can watch." Will pointed to the other side of the chain link. Then he pushed the helmet down over her head. She was glad for the open-face style, so she could see his eyes, memorize the lines of his mouth, catch his scent. He jiggled the helmet slightly, but the foam inside fit snugly against her ears.

  "It's good." He tilted her head back and dealt with the chin strap, sneaking in a kiss before saying, "Hop in."

  The car was low, the seats deep. "At least I'm wearing pants this time."

  He glanced down at her legs. "I like you in tight jeans. But the skirt was fun last time, too." He gave her one of his wolfish smiles. "For me, at least."

  Leaning over her, he drew the shoulder harness down on both sides. Where the touches had been light and fast that first day they'd met at the airport--a hint rather than a promise--now he caressed, lingered, made sure every single piece of nylon was in exactly the right place.

  She forgot about the spectators. She forgot about Jeremy. Forgot about everything but the gorgeous man beside her as he reached down between her legs with slow, seductive movements. He hooked the strap into the harness, his fingers brushing her inner thigh. Heat, his hands, her body. Quicker breaths, as if she were anticipating the speed, anticipating his strong hands on the wheel. And on her.

  "Ready?"

  The question was loaded with alternate meanings, especially when accompanied by the look he gave her, the way his gaze dipped down to her mouth, held there, then slid back up to meet her eyes.

  She was ready. So ready.

  She gave him a standard thumbs-up. The engine roared through her chest when he pumped the gas, then settled into a steady rumble inside her. He started slow, increasing speed gradually. It wasn't an oval track with only four turns, but a road course with twists and curves. He'd shown her and Jeremy an aerial map.

  They went into the first hairpin turn at fifty miles per hour. His speed climbed as they went up the hill by the lake where they'd entered the track. Then they were going faster, faster, faster. Though he braked and downshifted into the turns, he throttled up coming out of them. Despite the harness, her head was jostled and she had to hold onto the door so she wouldn't be thrown around in the seat. It was like a roller coaster, up, down, around. Adrenaline fueled her blood like gas fueled the car. The corkscrew turn barely slowed him down. Her eyes teared in the wind. Even with the helmet, the noise was deafening, the air whistling past them, the thunder of the engine as he powered up, its whine as he decelerated.

  They blew through a short straightaway, then he braked into the next turn. She glanced at the speedometer as he came out of it. Sixty. Then he jammed his foot onto the accelerator on the long straightaway past pit row. She didn't see Jeremy. She couldn't make out faces or even bodies, there was just a blur. By the time the speedometer hit one-twenty, she was pressed fully into the seat, one hand on the door, the other wrapped around the harness so her neck wouldn't snap.

  And they were flying.

  Flying so free that she closed her eyes, and there was only the sense of speed, the rush of wind, and the shriek of the motor.

  She was high. She was wild. She needed Will to touch her, but he couldn't take his hand off the stick shift. And yet he was so close she could feel his heat beside her as if it were burning right off the engine.

  Speed was the drug. Will was her pusher. She'd wanted to control the habit, but she was starving for more as she shouted, "Do it again."

  And he did, taking her around the track over and over, until she was nothing more than hot skin, hard bone, and exhilarating, utterly breathless sensation.

  *

  Later, Will had taken Jeremy around again while Harper watched. She'd stood on the sidelines, vibrating like voltage through an electrical wire. Will had felt the same, his body charged, his skin sizzling to the touch, his heart hammering in staccato beats.

  As for Jeremy, he'd chattered like an excited squirrel. Speed affected them all. And when her brother said he wanted to drive back in Leland's truck to Will's house, where Mrs. Taylor was waiting for him, so that they could talk cars the whole way, Harper agreed readily.

  Now, Will and Harper were headed up Highway 1 alone, the others out of sight. "Were you scared on the track?"

  "Terrified." But even now, he could hear--could see--the thrill flowing through her.

  He'd been euphoric. He never raced other cars on the track. He was always racing himself. But with Harper in the car, he hadn't felt like he needed to outrun his past anymore. She'd heard it all. And she was still here beside him.

  For the first time ever, speed had been just for fun, rather than the need of a junkie desperately taking his hit just to make it through to the next day.

  He touched her hand in the close confines of the car and he heard her breath hitch at his touch. Even her skin seemed to be humming with electricity as she suddenly said, "Take this exit."

  With not
hing more than three small words, she flipped his switch, turned him on, powered up his engine. Which was exactly what he knew he'd done to her every time he'd pushed his foot to the floor and blown past her speed limits.

  He finally saw the same thing she had--a motel, one of the better chains, but nothing like his usual luxury.

  "There," she said, pointing. And it required only that one husky word to throw him nearly to the edge.

  He took the exit.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  "I could have paid for the room."

  "No." Harper had gotten a great deal of pleasure out of charging the bill on her credit card. It was fun, as if she were having an illicit affair with a slick race car driver.

  All she'd thought about in the car was getting her hands on him. And his hands on her. The moment the door closed behind them, she fisted his shirt and pulled his head down to hers. Her blood was on the boil as she kissed him--deep, wet kisses that made them both desperate.

  "Did you bring a condom?" She couldn't believe herself--Miss Timid making demands. Taking charge. Better than that, feeling totally comfortable doing both those things.

  He patted his back pocket. "Always prepared, just like a Boy Scout."

  "You--" She tapped his chest. "--were never a Boy Scout." Grabbing his shirt again, she turned and dragged him to the bed. "You're a road warrior." A fire flared in his eyes, one that she knew had to match the fire in hers. "My road warrior." With the flat of her hand on his chest, she pushed him down onto the mattress. "And I want you bad."

  The curtains were closed, the room dim, and his eyes were as dark as blue midnight. And hot.

  "Not as bad as I need you, sweetheart."

  Harper slid out of her sandals and climbed onto his lap. With her thighs along his, she slid down hard against him. His hands on her butt, he hauled her even closer, until every ridge and bulge enticed her through their jeans.

  God, she loved the feel of him. The hard muscles, slick skin, delicious mouth.

  "I want to ride you the way I rode the Cobra today," she said, her lips almost touching his. "Only I want your hands, your arms, to be the straps keeping me safe."

  "Jesus." His breath caught in his throat as though even the idea of her being on top was too much for him.