Page 26 of Fast-Track Fiancé

It wasn’t that he’d expected clingy tears upon waking this morning, but when a man awoke after the most peaceful sleep of his life to find that his bed partner had already fled the scene after their interlude... It had got under his skin. He still felt completely on edge after last night, his ego and his control rubbed raw. For all of his grand ideas about maintaining their professionalism and distance in the wake of their lovemaking, he was the one having to refrain from jumping up, throwing her over his shoulder like a caveman and depositing her back into his bed for the rest of the afternoon.

As he watched, the director’s assistant instructed her to move, draping the thin silk wrap she’d been provided with over her shoulders to cover her mostly naked flesh. She moved with ease, her athlete’s muscles bunching up and flexing as she slid herself into place, perfectly following the direction. However, was he imagining the slight look of discomfort in her tightened features as she settled herself more fully upon the hard edge of the car’s bonnet? When she moved again, the director’s assistant sliding her a couple of inches to the right and removing her wrap again, she winced and readjusted herself.

Tristan’s stomach tensed with awareness at the sudden possibility that she was uncomfortable with far more than just her body being on display. He’d been careless last night in bed with her; surely she would’ve told him if she was too sore to do the shoot today?

Even as the thought occurred to him he shrugged it off, knowing that was exactly what Nina would not do. She would insist upon working past her own limits, ignoring her own feelings, much too stubborn for her own good.

As the director called out for her to change position once again Nina’s face tightened, and this time a low hiss escaped her lips before she straightened and posed once more.

He’d had enough.

‘Cut!’ he called out loudly. ‘Stop everything. Stop.’

‘What? We’re in the middle of a take,’ the director shouted, gesturing wildly with her hands.

‘I need to speak with my fiancée,’ he growled, striding across the set until he reached her side in a few short steps. Nina looked up at him, her arms crossed defensively over her chest. ‘We haven’t finished yet, Tristan. You can’t just yell out cut because you wish to speak with me.’

‘I can and I am,’ he insisted. ‘Be honest with me, please—are you in pain?’

Her mouth tightened, her gaze slipping to look away, past his shoulder. ‘It’s no more than I can handle. Go back to your chair.’

‘Everyone, take an early lunch in town, my treat. My housekeeper will escort you.’ He gripped her waist gently, lifting her slim weight up against his chest. ‘You...come with me.’

Thankfully she didn’t fight him when he insisted on draping her silk robe back around her shoulders and gathering her into his arms. The journey from the courtyard back to his villa was a blur as he fought the red haze of rage that had settled over him. Rage at his own PR team for suggesting that she model his diamonds when the focus should have been on her role as a woman in motorsport, rage at the magazine’s decision to have her pose semi-nude, but most of all rage at himself for allowing it all to happen. Because he knew that he had put her in this situation, the same situation her parents had once put her in. He should know better.

When they finally entered his bedroom, she kicked her legs, fighting her way into a standing position before tightening the belt on the flimsy robe.

‘I hope that you have a good explanation for why you just did that.’ She stood, arms crossed, black eyes narrowed upon him like a furious queen.

The fact that she had been nicknamed with ice in mind was so utterly laughable, not only because he had experienced her fire first-hand, but because her passion and strength burned hotter than anything he had ever seen. His attraction to her was so much deeper than the quick sexual gratification she had accused him of pursuing.

‘Tristan, you can’t just shut down an expensive photo shoot with no explanation. People are going to talk and make assumptions.’

‘Let them,’ he said, scowling at her. ‘I don’t care about their opinions.’

‘The whole point was to mingle our two families’ brands and meet somewhere in the middle. Fashion and racing.’ She shrugged one slim shoulder. ‘I wouldn’t have agreed to it if I didn’t feel totally comfortable.’

‘Did you?’ He stepped closer. ‘Because from where I was sitting you looked pretty damn uncomfortable.’

‘Is that what this is about? Your conscience at hurting me last night? Because, honestly, I’ve heard that discomfort in those circumstances is pretty unavoidable. It really doesn’t matter.’

‘It matters to me,’ he insisted, tightening his hold on her wrist and pulling her closer. ‘You can act as unaffected as you like, but, from a purely physical point of view, I should’ve taken better care of you. I would have done it so much differently if I’d known.’

She paused, her gaze softening at his regret. ‘You would have?’

‘Oh, yes,’ he said, inhaling a deep breath of her inimitable scent. ‘I would have taken my time. I would have made it so much better for you. You have no idea how good it would have been.’

He ran his cheek against the soft skin of her neck, breathing her in and feeling her shiver in response. She was always so responsive, so honest. Perhaps that was why he’d flown into an immediate fury upon waking up alone in his bed this morning. Her scent had surrounded him, but her warmth had been long gone and the idea that she’d left him...that he might never get to touch her again... It had been unacceptable.

‘Let me put this into terms you’ll appreciate,’ he murmured softly. ‘You see, you expected the Falco experience, but I didn’t have all the details. If I’d known exactly what I was going into, I would have changed my tactics and strategy in order to achieve the best result for you. Your pleasure is what’s most important to me, and the sound of you in pain... I can’t get it out of my mind. I need to replace it with the sound of your pretty moans as you come. With the sound of you calling out my name in ecstasy. I’m a perfectionist, querida, so please let me make this right.’

‘You’re not playing fair.’ She gasped as his erection made contact with her hip.

He took her face into his hands, meeting her eyes. ‘This isn’t a game. Not here. There are no cameras, no audience to pretend to. Whatever this is from now on... It’s just between me and you.’

CHAPTER TEN

IF THIS WAS a punishment of sorts, please sign her up. She wanted him never to stop.

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