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“Well I travel a lot, and I don’t want you getting lonely, so…” Before he can finish his sentence, there’s a commotion by the backdoor and I turn to see a Saint Bernard puppy dash across the yard heading for the smell of dinner. The kids squeal in delight and I turn back to Brody.
“Meet Nanny.”
Chapter Thirty
The sound of fireworks is deafening, but not enough to drown out the cheers from the team and the crowd. The atmosphere is electric and I think I’m going to need this smile surgically removed from my face.
He did it.
Brody crossed the line to finish the race and win the championship. Maggie engulfs me in a hug, as tears stream down my face. I am so proud of him.
“He did it,” she squeals, her excited smile matching my own.
“He did!” My voice is choked with emotion, and my legs feel like jelly. It all came down to this race, with only 3 points separating Connor and Brody, the outcome of this race was the deciding factor of the championship. Brody finished first, taking the maximum available points and Connor finished third, sealing their fate.
We watch on the screen as he drives his victory lap in the twilight, the impressive array of fireworks providing a stunning backdrop. He stops the car by the stands to do a couple of donuts and unfurls an American flag as he drives off. He’s every inch the showman and the crowd are eating it up. I am too. I love seeing him like this, in his element.
The team excitedly starts to make their way to the podiums for the ceremony and Maggie grabs my hand as we follow suit. Ignite got the double, the driver championship and the constructor. Connor finished second, so it really is something for the team to celebrate, they blew the competition away.
When we reach the fenced off area for the team, Brody is just parking his car behind the gold number one board. He releases himself, refits his steering wheel and jumps out, climbing atop the car and raising his fist into the air in triumph. The crowd roars and I join them.
He jumps down and rushes toward his team, accepting the slaps on the back and hugs before heading straight for me. In the blink of an eye, the barrier is being moved aside and I’m being lifted into Brody’s arms.
Wrapping my legs around his waist, I remove his helmet and balaclava, passing them to his race engineer behind me before smashing my lips to Brody’s.
“You did it, Hotshot,” I mumble against his lips, savoring the moment. “You’re my champion.”
“Never doubted it for a second,” he says in that trademark cocky tone of his that makes me laugh.
“Put me down and go get your trophy,” I say, attempting to wriggle out of his arms, suddenly aware that the world is watching.
“You are my trophy,” he says against my lips as he lowers me to the ground and reluctantly releases me. “Don’t go anywhere.”
“Not a chance,” I assure him, as he hugs his sister and then grabs his helmet before running over to the scales to get weighed.
Epilogue
Seven Months Later…
The sun glows low, warm and golden as we bob a little way out of the narrow, picturesque French inlet on the cyan southern coast, close to Marseille. With the next Grand Prix eight days away, I wanted to make the most of the time Rosie and I have together before she heads back home. It seems like the last year has stretched to allow us to fit so much into it since we first met, and yet, it feels like no time at all has passed. We’re still in our blissful honeymoon phase, or at least that’s what Murph called it when we left the team camp up in Le Castellet to steal a few days on our own.
“Where are you going?” Rosie groans when I slip out from under her on the deck.
With the blush of the sun on her skin, the freckles I love so much are a deep gold that makes her green eyes shine brighter when Rosie peers up at me. In a nanosecond my heart is beating ahead of itself for her. Something I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to.
“Can’t you shake out the ants in your pants?” Flipping onto her back with a long sigh, she stretches out her half-naked body and my dick is quick to appreciate the view of her full tits. “What happened to not moving all day?”
“Unless we’re fucking or eating.” I crouch above her head so that she’s grinning up at me from between my spread thighs.
My hands instinctively mold to her breasts, pinching her nipples in the V between my thumb and forefinger. It’s insane, but I can’t get enough of her in every way—feel and warmth.
“So which is it?” she asks, leaning up on her elbows and pressing her lips to the inside of my right wrist before she nips lightly. “Are you fucking or feeding me?”
“You’re asking that like I can’t do both at once.”
“Fucking my mouth doesn’t constitute to feeding me.”
“It does if you swallow.” The flush of her cheeks burns brighter, slowly spreading down her throat to her chest. “And you always swallow, sweetheart.”
