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Hello, heatwave—blasting her from all angles as the incredible sensation of his hot mouth on her skin flicked over her on replay.
‘It wasn’t the most disgusting experience in the world.’ So you can do it again if you like. No—no, he could not. It was a terrible idea. Crazy to think she was hurtling towards a lack of self-preservation as diabolical as his.
That legendary beautiful smile touched his lips and he raised one hand to scratch at his jawline. ‘Deal is—if you beat me I’ll take you with me.’
His grin said he was perfectly safe. That she didn’t have a hope in hell of winning. Obviously he didn’t want her going with him at all. Which naturally flipped every one of her excitable curiosity switches.
Poor guy. She almost felt sorry for him.
* * *
He’d been thrashed. By a girl.
Totally and utterly thrashed at supercars, tennis, football and loaded weapons—repeatedly. Then he’d fed her and fetched her soft drinks. Before she’d zonked out on the sofa in an alluring puddle of colour and vulnerability—the latter hitting him smack-bang in the solar plexus.
Seraphina Scott was extraordinary in every single way, and if he didn’t give her a good shake pronto he was liable to kiss her awake like Sleeping Beauty. If he was any kind of prince material he would. As it was he’d lied to her repeatedly and lusted after her repeatedly.
Unfortunately some idiot had suggested he was friend material, and though it scared the crap out of him—because he wasn’t the most reliable bloke on the planet, and his own sister could vouch for that—he fully intended to stick by his word. It was the least he could do after he’d caused her so much pain, despite the fact it was the equivalent of flinging himself onto the track lane mid-race.
The fact was, she fed his wildness. Unearthed all kinds of feral, animalistic instincts until need was a constant claw that slashed his insides. Not just craving the heat of her sweet, supple body, but wanting to protect her at all cost, to touch that desolate tinge in her grey gaze.
She was a lonely soul right now.
It took one to know one. He’d been surrounded by people all his life, and yet soaked in a bone-deep loneliness he found impossible to shake.
Yeah, and impossible to understand too.
Easily bored, he relished variety. Every day with Serena would be as unique as she was, a little voice whispered. He told that little voice to shut up. It was being controlled by his libido and for once he wasn’t listening.
Finn stared at her for a long moment, curling a strand of her hair around his finger. How could anyone even resist her? How long was it going to take before he snapped and crossed the bridge from friends to lovers? An eternity, his conscience told him, because it’s never going to happen. You’re supposed to be keeping her safe, remember?
‘Hey, Sleeping Beauty.’ He flipped his hand over to check his watch. ‘It’s nine-thirty and we have a date.’
With her sinuous stretch and a sultry writhe her T-shirt inched upwards until that sexy-as-hell diamond piercing winked at him.
Just like that an airlock cinched his chest. ‘Come on, spitfire, get a shake on.’ Before I take that silver loop between my lips, flick it with my tongue and suck it into my mouth. Then I’ll tear those jeans off and lick all the way down to your clit.
Damn.
‘Or maybe I’ll just go by myself.’ Way better idea.
‘I’m coming, I’m coming,’ she murmured, in that gorgeous, husky sleep-drenched voice.
He growled long and low. This was such a bad idea. What had possessed him to gamble with her? No one had ever beaten him. Ever. He should’ve known this minx would throw him for a loop—which only made him want her even more! So cancel. Tell her something. Anything.
The problem was he was already living one lie, and the thought of customising another pierced his guts as if they were twisted in barbed wire. Add in the suspicion that today’s racing blip—courtesy of a flashback like no other—had totalled her aspirations of launching her prototype at Silverstone and he could never tolerate it.
‘Where are we going?’ She swung her legs off the leather couch, sat upright and shook out her hair until those spectacular ruby-red flames blazed down her back.
‘Here,’ he croaked, grabbing two caps from the marble bench and tossing one in her lap. ‘Put this on.’
‘Incognito?’ Her grey eyes bolted to his, sparkled with excitement.
It was an effervescence that wasn’t going to last long. Or was it? Continually she threw him, and this little jaunt might be just what she needed.
In a sudden burst of self-honesty he acknowledged that the temptation to take her had arrived shortly after the tickets. But the subject matter had made him pause. She was prudish at times, yet inquisitive at others—the delightful memory of her ear crushed against the bedroom door on his yacht came to mind—and he’d flirted with the idea that her past experiences were slim and less than stellar.
