Page 70 of Start Your Engines

“The closest. I missed your laughter and your joy. I hoped no other man got to know what it was like to make you smile. I wanted to believe you saved all your smiles for me. I hated that other men got to touch you like I wanted to.”

She holds my hand against her cheek and fixes me with a look that makes me shiver. “Like a friend?”

I shake my head. “Like a lover.”

Her stare penetrates mine. “I wanted that, too. I imagined it.”

I tremble at the admission.

“Some days, I’d punish myself with Google press shots of who you were dating. And then the other days…” She pauses so long that I raise my eyebrows. I grit my teeth to stop myself hurrying her.

For months, I’ve tried to be the best driver for her, even while fighting my struggles and the knowledge she can’t be mine. But as the song embeds itself in my soul, the music that reminded her of me, I brush her lower lip with my thumb. She runs her tongue across it, as if tasting me.

“Other days,” she eventually adds, her voice gravelly and saturated with arousal, “I’d search for your sexier shots and fantasise about kissing you and?—”

I press my lips hard against hers, claiming her. She gasps. I need to slow down. If this is my one opportunity, I must remember her. Our moment in the bar was too brief. I want to know her taste so I can revisit it nightly. I want to make her whimper. I need her softness.

My other hand cups her other cheek, and I brush kisses to her lips. “I imagined your kisses,” I say between the grazes of my lips. “I longed to be the man in your bed and in your heart.” She leans closer. “I wanted to hunt down your dates and tell them they weren’t good enough for you. That no one was good enough for you, including me, but you were mine anyway.”

I back her up against the counter. She wraps her arms around my neck, and I lift her and ease her onto the countertop. I slide my tongue into her parted mouth, and she moans against me as my hands slide underneath the gap between her shorts and her thighs. We’re making out, and although I want to do more, I want to spend time discovering her body slowly, too. She opens her legs enough to let me stand between them. I pull the tie out of her hair and let her short waves cascade down like a drawer of messy ribbons.

She tries to undo my jeans, but I still her hands. “Senna.” My gruff voice reveals what this moment does to me. “I want this. I want you writhing beneath me as you say my name and lose everything but your words for me. But for now, I want to kiss you and enjoy the sexy noises you make and feel your body shake against mine.” She trembles. “Do you want that, too, baby?”

“Yes, Connor.” I’m not the only one whose voice is saturated with passion. “I want everything. Now fucking kiss me again like I’ve never been kissed before.”

“Yes, boss,” I murmur against her lips before giving her everything she wants and more.

CHAPTER 35

Senna

I can feel everything,from the heat of his palms hard against my skin to the softness of his lips as they brush against mine. Our tongues tangle, and I grab at tufts of his hair. He growls into my mouth, and I lose myself in the kiss, in him.

His kisses are quickly becoming my new obsession. My fingertips dance across the back of his neck, and his hands travel up my body until they’re sliding beneath my top. And then they stop. I wriggle a little, wanting him to touch my breasts, to thumb my nipples that are straining at my top, but he doesn’t. Instead, he grips my waist and controls the moment.

I don’t know how long we spend kissing because I’m lost in my pleasure. Occasionally, we break for air, but each time, we return to each other like two lost souls who’ve finally found their other half.

The ache in my body is more than the need to be touched. It’s the ache for him that I’ve been keeping secret for months, for years.

With my legs wrapped around his waist, I pull him tighter against me. For years my life was empty because he wasn’t in it.

He pulls back to stare at me, and I fist his top and bring him straight back against me. He swipes his tongue across my lips.

“More. I need more,” I pant.

His lips brush my jaw and neck, the heat of his touch burning my skin. His teeth scrape at my ear lobe, and I bob against him. His erection presses into me, and I suck in a breath.

He smells of sweat and spice.

“Please, Connor,” I beg, and his hands slide to my bum, grabbing it as he lifts me and carries me to the sofa.

He sits and pulls me on top of him, my thighs straddling his lap.

He stares at me like I’m all he needs for his survival. I lick my lips, my brows furrowing as I take in his adoration.

“I’ve dreamt about kissing these cheeks that flush when you’re angry with me,” he says, his fingers trailing over my skin. He holds up my hand and kisses my palm. “I’ve longed to kiss this hand. Every time you held it up to silence me, I’d get so fucking turned on.”

“You like it when I tell you what to do?”

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