His Ultimate Prize Page 34

  She slid her thighs either side of him and lowered herself until her wet heat touched him. The feel of his strong hands sliding down her back to capture her bottom made her shiver with delight.

  ‘Then me being on top wasn’t the best idea, was it?’

  His predatory gaze swept over her, lingering on her breasts, making them peak even more painfully.

  ‘It’s time you learned that I can control you from whichever position I’m in,’ he breathed.

  He surged into her, filling her so completely stars exploded behind her closed lids. He captured her nape, forced her down and took her mouth in a scorching kiss. His tongue seeking the deep cavern of her mouth, he took her over completely, escalating the desire firing through her until Sasha was aflame with a pleasure so intense it frightened the small part of her brain that could still function.

  Sasha hung on as he clamped one hand in the small of her back to hold her still. His pace was frantic, frightful in its demand and exquisite in its delivery of pleasure. She whimpered when he freed her mouth, only to blindly seek his for herself before she could draw another breath. Sensation spiralled out of control as bliss gathered with stunning speed.

  ‘Open your eyes. Let me see your eyes when you come for me.’

  She obeyed. Then wished she hadn’t when the heat in his eyes threatened to send her already flaming world out of control.

  ‘Marco...’

  ‘Sí, I feel it too.’

  She believed him. The sheen of sweat coating his skin, the unsteady hand that caressed down her face before recapturing her nape, the harsh pants that escaped his lungs all attested to the fact that he was caught in this incredible maelstrom too.

  Pleasure scythed through her heart, arrowed down into her pelvis, forcing her to cry out one last time as her orgasm exploded through her.

  Beneath her, still controlling their pleasure, Marco thrust into her release, groaning at the sensation of her caressing convulsions, then found his own satisfaction.

  Their harsh breaths mingled, hearts thundering as the breeze cooled their sweat-damp skin. Far away, another burst of fireworks lit up the sky.

  Inside the cabana, the intensity of their shared pleasure sparked a threat of fear through her.

  To mask her feelings, she hid her face in his shoulder. ‘I’d love to compose a sonnet to you right now. But I have no words.’

  A short rumble of laughter echoed through his heated chest. ‘Sonnets are overrated. Your screams of pleasure were reward enough.’

  Sasha sighed, put her head on his chest and tried to breathe. The alarm that had taken root in that small part of her brain grew. Something had happened between their first and second lovemaking.

  Then she’d felt safe enough to fall asleep in Marco’s arms.

  Now... Now she felt exposed. Her emotions felt raw, naked. Unbidden, tears prickled her eyes. She scrambled to hide her composure but Marco sensed her feelings.

  Pushing her head gently off his shoulder, he stared into her face. ‘You’re crying. Why?’

  How could she explain something she had no understanding of?

  When she tried to shrug he shook his head. ‘Tell me.’

  ‘I’m just feeling a little overwhelmed. That’s all.’

  After a second he nodded and brushed a hand down her cheek. ‘Sí. This is your first victory. That feeling can never be equalled.’

  For several heartbeats Sasha didn’t follow his meaning. When she realised he was talking about the race, and not the roiling aftermath of their lovemaking, her heart lurched.

  Panic escalating, she grasped the lifeline. ‘I wish my father had been there.’

  Marco nodded. ‘He would’ve been proud of you.’

  Surprise widened her eyes. ‘You knew my father?’

  ‘Of course. He was the greatest driver never to win a championship. I’ve seen every single race of his. Clearly you inherited his talent.’

  The unexpected compliment made her feel even more tearful. She tried to move away but he caught her back easily, lowered his head and kissed his way along her arm. When she shivered, he shook out a cashmere throw and pulled it over them, one muscular leg imprisoning both of hers.

  She was grateful for the cover—not least because the familiar feeling of humiliation had returned. ‘You know what happened to him, then?’

  ‘He bet on another car to win and deliberately crashed his car.’ The cold conviction in his voice sent an icy shiver down her spine, bleeding away the warmth she’d felt in his arms.

  This time she moved away forcefully. Standing, she grabbed her kaftan and slid it over her head, even though it did little to cover her nakedness.

  ‘The allegations were false!’

  Marco folded his arms behind his head. ‘Not according to the court that found him guilty.’

  ‘He never managed to disprove the claims. But I believed him. He would never have done that. He loved racing too much to crash deliberately for money.’

  ‘I was on the board that reviewed the footage, Sasha. The evidence was hard to refute.’

  Shock and anger twisted in her gut. ‘You were one of those who decided he was guilty?’

  He lowered his feet to the floor. ‘He didn’t do much to defend himself. It took him weeks to even acknowledge the charges.’

  ‘And that makes him automatically guilty? He was devastated! Yes, he should have responded to the allegations earlier, but the accusations broke his heart.’

  Her voice choked as memories rushed to the fore. Her father broken, disgraced by the sport he’d devoted his life to. It had taken Sasha weeks to convince her father to fight to clear his name. And in those precious weeks his reputation in the eyes of the public had been sullied beyond repair. By the time Jack Fleming had taken the stand his integrity had been in tatters.

  ‘So he gave up? And let you carry the weight of his guilt?’

  ‘Of course not!’

  ‘Why did you promise him the championship?’

  Sasha floundered, pain and loss ripping through her. ‘He started drinking heavily after the trial. The only time he stopped was when I had a shot at the Formula Two Championship. When I crashed and had to stay a while in hospital he started drinking again.’

  ‘You were in hospital? And the father you claim loved you unconditionally wasn’t there for you?’

  Hazel eyes now devoid of passion taunted her.

  Tears prickled her eyes but she refused to let them fall. In her darkest, most painful moments after losing her baby she’d asked herself the same question.

  Blinking fiercely, she raised her chin. ‘Whatever point you’re trying to make, Marco, make it without being a total bastard.’

  He sighed and ran a hand over his chin.

  She stayed at the other end of the cabana, her arms curved around her middle.

  ‘Did you hire another lawyer to appeal?’

  ‘Of course we did. He... Dad died before the second trial.’

  His gaze softened a touch. ‘How did he die?’

  ‘He drove his car off a bridge near our cottage.’ Pain coated her words. ‘Everyone thinks he did it because he was guilty. He was just...devastated.’

  ‘And you feel guilty for this?’

  She plucked at the hem of her kaftan. ‘If I hadn’t got involved with Derek I’d have won a championship earlier. Maybe that would’ve saved my father...’

  Marco’s hand slashed through her words. ‘Your life is your own. You can’t live it for someone else. Not even your father.’

  ‘Who’s got their psychoanalysing hat on now?’

  His brow lifted. ‘You can dish it out but you can’t take it?’

  Sasha tried to stem the wave of guilt that rose within her. After his trial she’d suggested her father not come to he
r races, because she’d watched him slide deeper into depression after attending every one.

  ‘Whatever he was, he wasn’t a cheat. And I intend to honour his memory.’

  Marco rose from the lounger, completely oblivious to his sheer masculine beauty and the effect it had on her tangled emotions. Sasha wanted to burrow into him, to return to the warm cocoon of his arms. But she forced herself to stay where she was.

  ‘Come here.’

  She shook her head. ‘No. I don’t like you very much right now.’

  His smile made a mockery of her words as he strolled towards her. ‘That’s not true. You can’t keep your eyes off me. Just like I can’t take mine off you.’

  ‘Marco...’

  He cupped her jaw and lifted her face to his. Her heart stuttered, then thundered. ‘You made your promise out of guilt—’

  ‘No, I want to win the Championship.’

  ‘Sometimes the best deal is to walk away.’

  ‘I don’t intend to. So don’t stand in my way.’

  He brought his mouth within a whisper of hers. Sasha swayed towards him, her willpower depleting rapidly.

  ‘Determination is a quality I admire, querida. But remember I won’t tolerate anything that stands in the way of my desires.’

  Tugging her firmly into his arms, he proceeded to make her forget everything but him. Including the fact that he’d never believed her father’s innocence.

  * * *

  Marco attended the next two races, flying back each time from Spain, where Rafael was still in a coma. When she won in Japan he took the whole team to celebrate, after which he took Sasha to his penthouse for a private celebration of their own.

  After a tricky, hair-raising start, Korea secured her yet another victory. But one look at Marco’s taut expression when she emerged from the press conference told her there would be no team celebrations this time.

  ‘Marco?’

  ‘We’re leaving. Now.’

  He whisked her away from the Yeongam Circuit in his helicopter, his possessive fingers tense around hers all through the flight to a stunning beach house on the outskirts of Seoul City, where he proceeded to strip off her race suit and her underclothes.

  ‘You know that by dragging me away like that in front of the team you’ve blown this thing between us wide open, don’t you?’ she asked, in the aftermath of another pulse-melting session in his bed.

  His lovemaking had been especially intense, with an edge that had bordered on the frenzied. And, as much as she’d loved it, he’d left her struggling for breath, in danger of being swept away by the force of his passion.

  He brushed a damp curl from her cheek and studied her face. ‘Does it bother you?’

  She gave the matter brief thought. ‘There was speculation even before we were together. Paddock gossip can make the tabloid press look like amateurs.’

  He pulled back slightly, his earlier tension returning. ‘That doesn’t answer my question.’

  ‘They knew I was a good driver before I started sleeping with you. They just didn’t want to acknowledge it because of who I am. I only care about what they think of me as a driver. What they think of me personally doesn’t matter. It never has.’

  ‘You’re a fighter,’ he said, his expression reflective.

  ‘I’ve had to fight for what I’ve achieved.’ She cast him a droll look. ‘As you well know.’

  When he didn’t smile back, a cloud appeared on the horizon of her happy haze. ‘It bothers you that I don’t care what other people think about me?’

  ‘Single-mindedness has its place.’

  ‘I smell a but in there somewhere.’

  His gaze because suspiciously neutral. ‘Following a single dream is risky. When it’s taken from you you’ll have nothing.’

  ‘When? Not if? Are you trying to tell me something?’

  ‘Nothing lasts for ever.’

  ‘You must be jet-lagged again, because you’ve gone all cryptic on me. I’m three races away from securing the Constructors’ Championship for you. Unless I don’t finish another single race, and our nearest rival wins every one, it’s pretty much a done deal.’

  He got out of bed and pulled on his boxer shorts. For a man who embraced nudity the way Marco did, the definitive action sent a shiver of unease down her spine.

  ‘Done deals have a way of coming undone.’

  Her anxiety escalated. ‘Enough with the paradoxes. What’s going on, Marco?’

  Marco strode to the champagne chilling in a monogrammed silver bucket, filled up a glass and brought it back to her. Returning to the cabinet, he poured a whisky for himself and downed it in one go.

  He slammed the glass down and spun towards her. ‘Madre di Dios, you nearly crashed today!’

  Her fingers tightened around the delicate stem of her glass as the full force of his smouldering temper hit her. Her car had stalled at the start of the race, leaving her struggling to retain pole position. Her rivals hadn’t hesitated in trying to take advantage of the situation. She’d touched tyres with a couple of cars and nearly lost a front wing.

  ‘I found myself in a slightly hairy situation. I dealt with it.’ She glanced at him. ‘Were you worried?’

  ‘That my lover would end up in a mangled heap of metal just like my brother did mere weeks ago? What do you think?’ he ground out.

  She trembled at the harshness in his tone even while a secret part of her thrilled that he’d been worried about her. ‘I know what I’m doing, Marco. I’ve been doing it almost all my life.’

  He speared a hand into her hair, tilting her face up to his. ‘Rafael knew what he was doing too. Look where he ended up. You can’t do it for ever. You do realise that, don’t you?’

  The question threw her, for Sasha had been deliberately avoiding any thoughts of the future. Even the end of the racing season didn’t bear thinking about. If by some sheer stroke of bad luck she lost the Constructors’ Championship then she was out of a job.

  If she won her professional future would be secured for another year. But what about her personal future?

  The reality was that she’d fallen into Marco’s bed expecting little more than a one-night stand. But with each day that passed she was being consumed by the magic she experienced there. With no thought to the future...

  ‘Yes,’ she finally whispered. ‘I realise nothing lasts for ever.’

  ‘Bueno,’ he breathed, as if her answer had satisfied him.

  He shucked his boxers in one smooth move. ‘Are you going to drink that? Only, after watching you nearly crash, I feel an urgent need to re-affirm life with you again. Repeatedly.’

  She passed him the glass and opened her arms.

  It wasn’t until their breaths were gasping out in the aftermath of soul-shattering orgasms that she tensed in disbelief.

  ‘Marco!’

  ‘What?’ He raised his head, a swathe of hair falling seductively over one eye.

  ‘We didn’t... We forgot...’ Frantically she calculated dates.

  He let loose a single epithet. ‘Dios. Please tell me you’re on the Pill?’ he rasped.

  His voice was a choked sound that chilled her.

  Reassured with the dates, she nodded, then noticed his pallor. ‘Hey, it’s okay. Even if the Pill doesn’t work it’s the wrong time of the month.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ he demanded.

  Frowning, Sasha laid a hand on his cheek, which had grown cold and clammy. ‘I’m sure. Relax.’

  * * *

  Marco eased away from Sasha, steeling himself against her throaty protest as he left the bed. Pulling on a robe, he went into his study. His laptop was set up on his desk, his folders neatly arranged by his assistant. He bypassed it, threw himself into the leather sofa and scrubbed a hand down his fac
e.

  He hadn’t meant to lose it with Sasha like that earlier.

  But seeing her come within a whisker of crashing had set him on a knife-edge of fear and rage he hadn’t been able to completely dismiss. Now his loss of control had made him forget his one cardinal rule—contraception. Always.

  He hadn’t slipped once in ten years. Until tonight. Thank goodness Sasha was as against accidentally conceiving a child as he was...

  Grimly reining in the control that seemed to be slipping from him, he strode to his desk and picked up the top folder. A sliver of guilt rose inside him but he quashed it.

  Enough. He’d done what needed to be done. He refused to feel guilty for protecting what was important to him. Nothing mattered except keeping his family safe.

  He picked up the phone and called his brother’s doctors. Once he’d been updated on Rafael’s condition, he placed another call.

  Fifteen minutes later he slammed down the lid of his laptop and pushed away from the desk, at peace with his decision.

  Feeling a sense of rightness, he returned to the bedroom and slid into bed, his need for Sasha overcoming the wish to let her rest. With a soft murmur she wound her supple body around his. The sense of rightness increased, making his head spin.

  ‘I missed you. Where have you been?’

  Another wave of guilt hit him—harder than before. Inhaling the seductive scent of her, he pushed away the disturbing feeling. ‘I needed to take care of something.’ Bending his head, he placed his lips against the smooth skin of her neck. His body stirred, transmitting its persistent message.

  ‘Um. And have you?’ she murmured.

  ‘Sí.’ His voice emerged gruffer than he wished. ‘It’s all taken care of.’

  CHAPTER TEN

  SASHA WATCHED MARCO turn the page of his newspaper, a frown creasing his brow before it smoothed out again. Watching him had become something of a not-so-secret pleasure in the last few weeks. On cue, she experienced the slow drag of desire in her belly as her gaze drifted over the sensual curve of his lips, the unshaven rasp of his jaw and the strong column of his throat to the muscled bare torso which she’d caressed to her heart’s content last night and this morning.