Friction: Full Velocity Series - Book 1 Read online

  “What do you want, Ley?”

  She raised herself up onto her elbows. “You.”

  Running my hand through her hair, I clasped the nape of her neck and kissed her. “You’ve got me.”

  I inched down her body, gently tonguing her nipples. They elongated under my attention. Paisley arched her back, her eyes falling closed, a soft moan sounding low in her throat.

  “God, that feels good.”

  I kissed my way down her body, over her ribs, her abdomen, licking, sucking, nipping at her soft flesh. I eased apart her thighs and lapped at her with my tongue. I suppressed the instinct to devour her. She deserved tenderness, affection, intimacy.

  “More, Jared. Please.”

  Her hands clawed at the bedsheets, and she tilted her pelvis, urging me on. I sucked her swollen clit into my mouth. She let out a scream so loud, I half expected the next banging on the door to be hotel security, and then she crested, mumbled words spilling from her lips that I didn’t think had been invented yet.

  I waited until she stopped trembling, then leaned over, opened the nightstand drawer, and removed a condom. I tore open the pack, but as I went to put it on, Paisley clasped my wrist, stopping me.

  “Let me.”

  I rested back on my haunches, my dick pointing straight out, the tip damp with evidence of how much I wanted her, how desperately I needed to be inside her. But she didn’t put the rubber on. Instead, she gripped the base and swept her tongue over the head. My dick jerked. She went for a second sweep, then sucked on me like she had on that popsicle that Thursday, her cheeks hollowing out as she pulled me deep into her warm, wet mouth.

  “Fuck, Ley.”

  I fisted the sheets and squeezed my eyes closed. Visuals were not a good idea if I wanted to last longer than ten seconds.

  With her free hand, she palmed my ass. Her finger crept close to my hole, slick with… Fuck, she’d coated it with pussy juice. She must have. It was too wet to be saliva. This time I didn’t stop her. She went slow, gentle, but as she eased inside, the combination of my dick in her mouth and her finger up my ass finished me off.

  I climaxed. Fast.

  “Shit, I’m sorry,” I groaned as my balls emptied before I had time to withdraw. I hadn’t meant to come, not like that, and certainly not without permission.

  She released me, and I rolled to the side, gasping from the force of my orgasm. “Sorry, Ley,” I repeated, sweat cooling on my skin. I pulled the covers over us both.

  She raised up on her elbow, touched my face, brushed her lips over mine. “I’m not. I wanted to taste you, to make you lose control.”

  I buried my face in her neck and wrapped an arm around her shoulder, firmly gripping her waist with the other. I held her to me as my breathing slowed. A lump formed in my throat, and my vision blurred.

  What the fuck? Where had that kind of emotion come from?

  “Ley?” I croaked.

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m glad you’re here.”

  Paisley

  I woke the next morning with heavy, sleep-filled eyes and an aching but very satisfied body. After I’d gone down on Jared last night, he’d thoroughly shown his gratitude.

  I rolled onto my side to find the space next to me empty. I patted the mattress. Cold. Surely Jared wouldn’t have left without saying goodbye? I glanced at the clock. Seven in the morning. No wonder I felt wiped out. At least my flight didn’t leave until one this afternoon so I could take my time, spend the morning relaxing.

  I swung my legs out of bed and stretched. A hot bath filled with bubbles and soothing oils should help ease my tired muscles. I traipsed into the bathroom and looked around. Out of luck. The only things the hotel provided were the usual fare of shampoo, conditioner, and body lotion. Naughtily, I riffled through Jared’s wash bag. Not that I expected to find what I was searching for, but it was worth a try. People sometimes surprised you.

  He didn’t, not about that anyway. His bag was filled with manly items. Shaving stuff, shampoo in a black bottle with red writing, no sign of conditioner. What’s that about? He did have a bottle of nice cologne in there, though. I removed the top and took a sniff. My stomach clenched deliciously. It smelled of Jared, minus the underlying scent of his skin. Better than nothing, though, seeing as the man himself wasn’t around.

  I leaned over the bath and popped the plug in the hole, then turned on the hot tap. I squeezed in all of the hotel-gifted shampoo. At least that would provide some bubbles. Once the bath reached three quarters full, I eased myself down into the steaming water. Folding up a towel, I leaned my head back and closed my eyes.

  My mind turned to the revelations between Jared and me after I’d turned up unexpectedly last night. I still had no idea where our honesty left us, but it certainly sounded like we were more than mere ‘friends with benefits’. He’d never been that for me, but I wasn’t sure what I meant to him.

  Now I knew. He liked me… a lot.

  The ‘keeping it a secret’ thing had to stay, though. Regardless of my tantrum over the way he’d introduced me to Roxy, and the hurt that still snagged at my insides whenever I thought back to that night in the club, we were doing the right thing. It wasn’t like we were planning to get married or anything. Then, it would be different. But we were in the very early days, and the last thing I needed was Lewis and the rest of the rabble butting their noses in my business and getting Dad all riled up. If my relationship with Jared progressed further, I’d talk to Dad.

  My body relaxed, and I felt myself drifting off. The snick of the hotel door dragged me back to full consciousness.

  “Ley?” Jared sounded panicked.

  “I’m in the bath,” I shouted through, grinning at the special name he’d given me.

  He poked his head around the door, dripping in sweat, a gray T-shirt clinging to his chest muscles, a white towel around his neck. He must have been to the gym.

  “I thought you’d run out on me,” he said.

  “I thought you’d run out on me when I first woke up,” I hit back. “Next time, leave a note.”

  He dragged his gaze over my body, clearly visible beneath the water. Substitute bubbles didn’t last as long as the real ones.

  “Yeah, you seem concerned,” he drawled. “Whenever I’m worried about someone, I take a leisurely bath.”

  I grinned. “Your stuff’s still here.”

  He leaned over, his hands braced on the edge of the bath, and kissed me. “I can see a whole new career. Pixie Ley, Detective Agency,” he mocked.

  I flicked water at him. “Very funny.”

  He chuckled. Turning his back, he stripped off his workout-soaked clothes. I drank him in. He was in phenomenal shape. Lean, densely muscled, the most gorgeous, biteable arse I’d ever seen. I sighed, contented.

  He glanced over his shoulder. “Yeah, I know.”

  I flicked more water at him. “Arrogant dickhead.”

  “I’m taking a shower,” he said, grinning. “You’re more than welcome to join me.”

  Aware that it made me look far too keen, I still couldn’t scramble out of the bath quick enough. Water sloshed over the side, soaking the floor. I grabbed a towel off the rail and threw it on the floor to mop up the mess. I didn’t need for Jared to slip and fall, and break something. Imagine explaining that to Dad.

  His cocky ‘Yeah, I know I’m gorgeous’ grin should have annoyed me. Instead, I found it endearing. Jared wore his arrogance well. It wasn’t in-your-face. It was subtle. The odd word here and there rather than constantly telling everyone he was amazing.

  He opened the stall and gestured. I stepped inside. It was one of those ‘plenty big enough for two’ affairs, so at least I wouldn’t bang my elbows with every move. Jared turned on the water. I yelped.

  “Jesus! It’s freezing.”

  “Stop bitching,” Jared said, his face breaking into a grin.

  I shot him a glare, but within seconds, the hot water came through, steaming up the glass partition. Jared grabbe
d the shampoo and went to squeeze a dollop into his hand. I stopped him.

  “Let me,” I said, taking over.

  He bent his head to allow me to reach. I massaged the shampoo into his scalp, using the tips of my fingers to really get in there. He groaned.

  “That feels so good, Ley.”

  He rinsed while I washed my own hair. He made no move to touch me as I lathered in the bodywash, but his hooded eyes followed every sweep of my hands. He was fully erect, but, frustratingly, he just stood there, watching.

  “Aren’t you going to touch me?” I eventually asked.

  “No.”

  I widened my eyes. “Why not?”

  “It’s called delayed gratification, Ley. Keep washing.”

  I huffed but did as he asked. His eyes were on me the whole time. When I ran a hand between my legs, a moan escaped my lips.

  “Touch yourself.”

  I wasn’t averse to a little self-administration, although I preferred to be touched by a guy. But the devilish glint in Jared’s eyes had me circling my middle finger around my clit. My core contracted in response, and my chin dropped to my chest. My legs trembled, and I leaned against the wall for support.

  Jared gripped his cock and stroked, long and slow. I was jealous of his hand. I’d much rather mine replaced his. Actually, strike that, I’d prefer it if I were on my knees, his cock between my lips. I barely moved, but whether he sensed my intention, or he was incredibly intuitive, I didn’t get far.

  “No.”

  “You’re mean.”

  He chuckled. “You’ll thank me. Now close your eyes and keep touching yourself.”

  I wasn’t usually so compliant, but with Jared I couldn’t help it. I found myself automatically obeying him. My ears strained to pick up the slightest movement, but the only sound was running water.

  My climax built, and my hand moved faster. Right at the crest of an orgasm, his teeth bit down on my nipple. I yelped, my eyes springing open. The sight of Jared’s dark head, his mouth sucking on me, was enough to send me spinning out of control. My body exploded, splintering into a million pieces. It might sound corny, but I actually saw stars, pinpricks of light behind my eyes that had fallen closed once more.

  My vision cleared in time to see Jared come, his hand pumping faster and faster, his sperm washed away by the running water. What a beautiful sight. Eyes closed, jaw clenched, a nerve ticking in his cheek as ecstasy rushed through him.

  His eyes opened lazily, and he grazed his bottom lip with his teeth. “Hot, right?”

  I rocked my hand from side to side. “So-so,” I teased.

  He snagged me around the waist and kissed me, hard at first, then softer, gentler. He drew back, his eyes flicking between mine, his fingertips caressing the tender spot right beneath my earlobe.

  I held my breath. I’d sensed a seismic shift in our relationship last night, and now, with Jared’s hot stare burning into me, I waited, hope weakening my knees.

  His phone rang and broke the spell. Slicing his gaze away, he flicked off the shower. He grabbed a towel off the rack and wrapped it around his waist. With an apologetic smile in my direction, he went to answer it.

  Shit.

  Jared

  The weeks flew by, and before I knew it, we’d arrived in Monte-Carlo. In my opinion, the Monaco Grand Prix embodied the glamor and excitement of motor racing. Pelting around a narrow street circuit with concrete barriers millimeters from the car showcased the best of man versus machine. The ultimate test of driving skill. To win here meant you’d arrived—and I intended to win.

  After Monte-Carlo, the next stop was Canada, then back to Europe for the next few months. Once the summer season ended, we had a three-week break in August. I planned to spend my break back home in California, and I intended to ask Paisley to come with me. I wanted her to meet the people who meant the most to me.

  We still hadn’t told anyone about our relationship, but my family as extremely discreet. Same with Noah. I’d trust him with my life. Plus, I wanted to use the time away to talk to her about breaking the news to her dad. I was done sneaking around, hiding our growing feelings for each other, and snatching the odd night here and there. If I could show her dad I was serious about his daughter, and that we weren’t having a casual fling, I had the feeling that Jack would be cool. He was a reasonable man who only wanted the best for Paisley. I needed to demonstrate to him that I was the best man for her… Or at least I could be, given the chance.

  How far I’d come in the last few months. I’d been determined to think the worst of Paisley from the moment I’d found out who she was, and yet at every turn, she proved me wrong.

  I arrived at the track on the day of the race. I’d barely seen Paisley in days, and I was starting to have withdrawal symptoms. The Monaco track was hard on both the cars and the drivers, and Paisley had been working all hours helping to prep my car for the race. She’d really grown over the past few months under Angus’s tutelage. She’d make a damned fine mechanic one day, and not because of her parentage as Jack Nash’s only child, but because she worked her ass off. She didn’t mention it very often, but I knew it played on her mind that people thought she used her privilege to get ahead. What they failed to understand was that being Jack’s daughter only made her more determined to succeed—on her own merits.

  The morning passed as it always did the day before the practice sessions began in earnest—a blur of meetings, strategy discussions, practice runs, and press interviews. Before I could blink, it was time to drive the car onto the starting grid and prepare for the race. I managed to catch Paisley’s eye as I left the garage. I lifted my visor and winked at her. She smiled and sent an air kiss my way. Fortunately, no one noticed the intimate exchange.

  I headed out onto the track. With considerable effort, I pushed thoughts of Paisley to the back of my mind. If I didn’t give this racetrack the respect it deserved, I’d likely end up in the wall with a totaled car and a damaged ego.

  I’d qualified second yesterday. Alongside me in pole position was Alexander Coutinho, a Brazilian with seven years’ experience on this track. Tate had qualified in third, with Lewis right behind Alexander in fourth. Monaco had a history of the pole-sitter winning the race more often than not, unless they suffered engine failure, or made a mistake and ended up kissing the concrete. To stand a chance of taking the top step of the podium, I had to push hard at the start.

  We lined up after the parade lap. The five red lights came on, one at a time. The roar of the crowd broke through the noise from the screaming engines.

  Lights out.

  I dropped the clutch and hit the gas. The car launched forward, the G-force slamming into my chest, pushing me back against the seat. Great start. Textbook. I managed to edge my nose in front of Alexander, who came back strong, but I refused to yield. I took him before the first corner.

  “Yes!” I yelled, while Devon calmly remarked, “Well done, mate,” through my earpiece. Devon was the kind of guy who always sounded composed, but inside, he’d be as excited as me. He just hid it better.

  I successfully negotiated the first pit stop without any drama, and after everyone else had made theirs, and track positions shook down, I still led the race by two seconds. I settled into my stride, constantly talking to the team, feeding back information on the car ahead of our second, and final, stop.

  I received the instruction to box, and I maneuvered into the pits. I stopped perfectly on my marker. One of the team wiped my visor, and in a little over two seconds, I headed back out onto the track. Now I’d gotten that potential banana skin out of the way, I could allow my excitement to build. There was a distinct possibility of winning the Monaco Grand Prix, the greatest motor race in the world.

  On my first outing.

  And enter the record books as one of a very select number of rookie drivers who had.

  I started my out lap, the car getting back up to speed when a violent tremor rumbled through the steering wheel. From my limited position,
I saw the right front tire vibrating. Fuck’s sake!

  “Goddamn tire’s loose,” I barked into my comms system.

  “Stop the car, Jared,” Devon’s despondent voice came back at me. “Pull over immediately.”

  Disappointment at losing the race at such a late stage was quickly followed by anger. I turned into one of the few run-off areas up ahead on my left. Cutting the engine, I wrenched off the steering wheel and lifted myself out of the car. Fury raged through me. I wanted to slam the steering wheel to the ground and stomp on it, but that would get me a huge fine. I reaffixed the wheel and began my walk—or rather march—back to the pits.

  Devon greeted me. He clapped me on the back in conciliatory fashion.

  “Well done, mate. You did great.”

  “Who fucked up?” I ranted, slamming my helmet on a ledge at the back of the garage. My hair stuck to my forehead, and I angrily swiped at it. “Cross thread, right?”

  A cross-threaded bolt meant the wheel hadn’t been fitted correctly and, at the speeds we traveled, it could easily come flying off. If a wheel hit a member of the public or one of the stewards, it could kill them. The team would, no doubt, be fined for the near miss, but I was much more interested in taking my fury out on the one who’d screwed up and cost me the win.

  “Most likely.” Devon shrugged. “Mistakes happen, Jared.”

  I glared at him. “Mistakes happen? Fuck’s sake, Devon, we practice pit stops over and over so that mistakes don’t fucking happen.” I fixed my attention on Angus. “Who was on the front right?”

  “Me.”

  I whirled around. Paisley’s bottom lip trembled, but she stood firm, ready and willing to accept my wrath. Except how could I go to town on the woman who shared my bed? The woman I absolutely adored. Problem was, everyone would expect me to treat her exactly the same as anyone else who’d made such an expensive error. To have a chance of keeping our relationship a secret, I had no choice. I stomped across the garage, closing the space between us in a few strides.