“You okay, Rosie?” he asks, and I nod. “That racing suit looks good on you.”
I shiver. “It’s lucky Jacs had a spare. Are all drivers slim and curve-free?” I say breathlessly. I glimpse the material stretching across my chest.
I glance back at Niki, whose gaze fixes on my chest, too. “It’s perfect on you.” He glances up quickly as if suddenly hearing my question. “You must be slim and curve-free to fit in Formula One cars.”
“I miss the bulk you had in Greece,” I reply before flipping my visor down like I didn’t just say that to my boss.
He lifts it slowly with one finger. “You’re so cute when you’re embarrassed.”
I push his finger away from my visor as he chuckles.
“Jacs is counting down on my radio while Connor’s rambling about races where he’s beaten me,” he relays. “Are you ready for this? I’m going to go fast.”
I squeeze my thighs together. “Good. I want that.”
“Fuck,” he mumbles. “Hold on tight.”
He flips his visor down as I whisper, “Yes, sir.”
I don’t have time to question if he heard me because we’re speeding across the track. I grip my seat as he cranks the gearstick. I thought watching him drive from beside the track was the hottest thing I’d ever witnessed, but sitting next to him as he exudes power on this beast of a car pushes my desire higher.
For months I’ve fought the yearning I have for him, but as he takes a corner and I turn with it, I’m mesmerised by his control. He carries this presence with him all the time, even when vulnerable, and I adore the way he is with my little girl, but this is another side that makes me want to crawl into his lap and reward him.
My stare glides over his body as he takes a chicane. His grip on the wheel tightens, and he leans forward. Adrenaline sparks all my senses. My body shakes as I bite down on my lip.
As he drives into the second lap, he pulls my hand to his thigh.
Every time he changes gear, he flexes his thigh. I shift in my seat, trying to get more of him.
My stomach bottoms out at the closeness and intensity.
I squirm in my seat, my knickers already wet. I can’t get enough of this man, whether it’s touching him as he displays his power and control or when I’m in the office witnessing his vulnerability and smiles.
I want him so damn much. I don’t care if we win, which we are about to.
I need him.
A headiness that I haven’t felt since running the pitch fills me. When he parks on the side of the track away from everyone else, I don’t need to ask why.
He rips off his helmet, and I attempt to remove mine, but my fingers shake. He aids me in yanking it off.
“Kiss me,” I beg.
Niki grips my jaw and pulls it closer as he leans in. His lips crash against mine, and for one glorious second, I’m kissing the man who fills my fantasies. I let him take control, not just because he needs to, but because I want it. I need him to boss me in this car.
He grips my low ponytail and wraps it around his fist. He growls as I open my mouth to him. The scent of the leather interior mix with his vanilla and oak aftershave.
I climb closer, but I can’t get over the console.
I want to be in his lap and grinding on his dick, moaning as he feels how wet I am.
His tongue tangles with mine, and I whimper.
A car horn beeps, and we jump apart.
“Shit, I’m so sorry,” he says, panting.
I don’t want him to regret it. I grip his hand. My tremors ease when he doesn’t let go.
