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“I’m yours,” I say between pants. His tongue flicks over my pulse point, and my breath hitches in my throat. “Even when you didn’t know it, I was yours to take.”

He groans my name into my skin, his breath hot and the sound needy, which makes my entire body ache for him. I love the way he wants me. As if I’m the only woman he wants to touch like this. I move my hands to the hem of his T-shirt. I’m desperate to feel his skin. I run my nails over each and every ridge of muscle on this athletic body of his.

Mason’s mouth reclaims mine again as he begins to lift up his shirt. We break apart only to remove our T-shirts, then we’re kissing again. Our bodies are hot to the touch, and I want him in the worst way right now. He reaches around and unhooks my bra, and we briefly part again so I can cast it aside.

“You’re so perfect,” Mason whispers, his eyes heavy as he stares at me. “So perfect for me.”

His words roll deliciously around in my head as we kiss and touch. I absolutely love being perfect for Mason. Because he’s absolutely perfect for me, too.

And tomorrow in Baku, everyone in the paddock will know it.

Chapter Thirty

Two incredible things are happening to me right at this very moment, things that never would have been a part of my life if I weren’t a part of Formula 1.

I’m in Baku, a city I never would have put on my list of places to travel in my lifetime. This is my first time here, and it’s an incredible city, on the coastline of the sparkling Caspian Sea. The skyline has three distinct modern towers—The Flame Towers—which are skyscrapers shaped like flames. They’re juxtaposed with the city’s Icherisheher, or inner city, where ancient stone walls from the twelfth-century Baku fortress still exist, and the Maiden Tower rises above them. The city is this blend of ancient and new, and I love it.

And the food scene! Last night I had dinner with my dad, and we went to this amazing restaurant. I had delicious kebabs and warm, puffy breads. The star of the meal was the traditional Fisinjan Plov—chicken cooked in a sauce made from ground walnuts and pomegranate molasses, served with saffron rice. I’ll never forget it, it was so good and unique.

The second incredible thing that is happening at this moment? Besides walking along the leafy, tree-lined Baku Boulevard, next to the Caspian Sea, enjoying sunshine and wonderful warm weather?

I’m sharing it all with Mason whilst holding his hand.

I can’t stop smiling. I can’t. We’re hard launching right now, this morning, as we walk to the Collings Motors motorhome.

Mason told me there was no time like doing it whilst entering the paddock, as all the photographers will be there shooting the driver arrivals.

And I will get a whole bigger wave of publicity for my ruched Collings Motors T-shirt because of the man whose hand I’m holding right now.

Because today is the day. I’m wearing the cropped black Collings Motors “CM” logo shirt with the ruching on the sides, pairing it with jeans and Veja trainers. I put a stack of bracelets on my left wrist, and I have my hair pulled back in a low ponytail.

I hear Mason’s phone buzz in his other hand, but he doesn’t look at it. It’s been going off since his mum, who is here in Baku, started the morning with a social media post that said:

MY SON MASON FINALLY HAS A GIRLFRIEND AND IT IS CATHERINE COLLINGS! I COULD CRY TEARS OF JOY! I AM SO GLAD I HAVE MY SIMPLE SOFT TISSUES ON HAND! #adpartner

My lips twist in amusement at how she beat us to our own launch.

And managed to plug a partner, too.

“What’s the quirked lips for?” Mason asks, playfully squeezing my hand.

“How your mum hard launched us before breakfast,” I tease.

He grimaces. “I cannot apologise enough for that.”

“And I told you it’s not your thing to be sorry for. Besides, at least one of our mums is enthusiastic about us,” I point out.

That causes a wry smile to form on his face. “We split the difference on parents. Your dad and my mum in favour, my dad and your mum not so much.”

UGH, that is the truth. My mum decided not to come to Baku this weekend when I gave her the heads up we were hard launching. Apparently, protecting herself is more important than supporting Caleb on the track or helping me navigate my first public relationship. But Dad is here, and I’m glad for that. I’m going to meet Mason’s mum this morning over breakfast, too. I’m a bit anxious, because I don’t know if she will really like me for me or because she can use my name for status, but at least it’s positive one way or another.

Unlike Mason’s dad, who simply sent him back one text that he showed me. I still remember it verbatim because it made me so mad:

I guess you found one way to guarantee your seat at Collings Motors.

Anger bubbles up in my chest as that text message runs through my mind again. I’m glad his dad doesn’t come to races. Mason doesn’t need his toxic bullshit before he climbs into the cockpit. It’s bad enough his father gets into his head whenever he texts or calls him. There’s no support there. Ever. It’s just pressure and a constant flinging of his investment in Mason’s face.

I just wish I could get Mason to set a boundary with him. Mason, however, is still desperate to prove his father wrong. That his investment wasn’t a waste. And deep down, I know all he wants is for his father to be proud of him.