The Price of Success (15 page)

Her breath rasped through her chest. Breathing had become increasingly difficult. ‘Oh. Then I guess it’s not a good time to mention I also intend biting a few strategic places?’

A heartfelt groan preceded a few heated Spanish words muttered against her lips. ‘Do me a favour,
mi tentadora
. Keep your thoughts to yourself for the time being. You have my word. I’ll let you vocalise your every want later.’

Swooping down, he captured one exposed nipple in his mouth, his fierce determination to shut her up working wonders. Words deserted her as sensation took over. Liquid heat pooled at the apex of her thighs, the flesh of her sex swelling and pulsating with the strength of her need. By the time he transferred his attention to her other nipple Sasha was incoherent with desire.

Marco traced his lips lower, ruthlessly turning her inside out with pleasure, but when she felt his mouth dip below her navel she froze.

Sensing her withdrawal, he raised his head. ‘You don’t want this?’

‘I
do
.’ So much so the force of her need shocked her. ‘I do … But you don’t have to if …’ Her words fizzled out at the searing heat in his eyes.

‘I’ve spent endless nights imagining the taste of you, Sasha.’ He parted her legs wider, licked the sensitive skin inside her thigh, his eyes growing darker at her breathless groan. ‘But I’ve always preferred reality to dreams.’

He put his mouth on her, slowly worked his tongue over the millions of nerve-endings saturated with pleasure receptors. Sasha screamed, and came in a rush of pleasure so intense her whole body quivered with it.

Before the last of her orgasm had faded away Marco was surging over her. His kiss was less frantic but no less demanding. And, just like the engine of a finely tuned car, her body responded to his demands, anticipation firing her blood like nothing had ever done in her life.

Tension screamed through Marco’s body as he raised himself from the intoxicating kiss. The sound of Sasha’s orgasm echoed in his head like a siren’s call, promising him pleasure beyond measure. He couldn’t remember ever being so fired up about sex—so impatient he’d nearly forgotten protection.

Luckily sanity prevailed just in time.

Sasha moved restlessly beneath him, her sultry gaze steady on his as he parted her thighs.

Every single night of the past three weeks he’d woken with an ache in his groin and a sinking sensation that he was fighting a losing battle. He’d congratulated himself on staying away, but he’d known deep down it was a hollow victory.

Truth was he’d never wanted a woman as much as he wanted Sasha. He’d stopped trying to decipher what made her so irresistible. She just was. He’d also made discreet enquiries and verified that she’d spoken the truth—she hadn’t been involved with Rafael.

So just this once he was going to take. Sasha Fleming had worked her way under his skin like no other woman had and now this was the inevitable conclusion. Her underneath him, her thighs parted, her sultry gaze steady on his. Just as he’d dreamed …

With a groan he sank into her.

‘Thank God!’ she cried. ‘For a second there I thought you were about to change your mind.’

As if to stop him taking that route, her muscles clamped tight around him.

Another groan tore from his throat. ‘I thought I told you to shut up?’ He pulled back and surged into her once more, pleasure such as he’d never known rocking through him.

‘I am … I will … Just please don’t stop.’ Raking her nails down his back, she clamped her hands around his waist.

As if he could even if he wanted to. He was past the point of no return, his need so great he was almost afraid to acknowledge its overwhelming scope. Instead he lost himself in her pleasure, in the hitched sounds and feminine demands of her body as she welcomed him into her sweet warmth.

‘
Dios
, you feel incredible,’ he rasped as sensation piled upon sensation.

Inevitably the bough broke. Ecstasy rode through him, blinding him to everything else but the glorious satisfaction of unleashed passion.

With her cry of bliss he followed off the peak, the muscles in his body tightening with the force of his orgasm as he emptied himself into her.

He collapsed on top of her, her soft, sweat-slicked body a cushion to his hardness. He remained there until their breathing calmed then, rolling onto the lounger, he tucked her against his side.

As the last of the haze faded away he felt the first inevitable twinge of regret. He’d succumbed to temptation. Now the piper would expect payment. And for the first time in his life Marco was afraid at just how much he was willing to pay.

‘W
HAT
—?’ Sasha jerked awake.

The solid body curved around hers and the arm imprisoning her kept her from falling off the lounger. Opening her eyes, she encountered Marco’s accusing gaze.

‘You fell asleep.’

The wide expanse of muscled chest scrambled her brain for a few seconds, before a few synapses fired a thought. She’d had sex with Marco. Wild, unbelievable, pleasure-filled sex. After which—

‘You fell
asleep
,’ he incised a second time, affront stamped all over his face.

‘Uh … I’m sorry …’

‘I get the feeling you don’t mean that.’

‘And I get the feeling I’m not following this conversation at all.’ Before she could stop it a wide yawn broke through.

His glare darkened.

‘Did I not please you?’ He seemed genuinely puzzled, and a little unsure. One hand curved under her nape to tilt her face up to his.

Thoughts of their lovemaking melted her insides. ‘Of course you did,’ she said, struggling to keep from blushing at recalling her cries of pleasure. Lifting her hands, she framed his face. ‘I’ve never felt more pleasure than I did with you.’

‘It was so good you fell asleep straight after?’

‘Take it as a compliment. You wore me out.’

His lids veiled his eyes. ‘This is a first, I admit.’

‘Wearing a woman out?’ she asked, stunned.

‘Of course not. The falling asleep part.’

Laughter bubbled up from deep within her, delight filling her. Leaning up, she pressed her lips against his in a light kiss.

Marco took over and turned it into a long, deep kiss.

By the time he was done with her she struggled to breathe. And he … he was fully engorged, his erection a forceful presence against her belly. Emboldened by the thought that she could arouse him again so quickly, she caressed her fingers down his side, eliciting a shuddered groan from him that released a wanton smile from her.

‘Like I said, I’m sorry. How can I make it up to you?’ She slid her hand between them and gripped him tight. His lips parted on another groan. She caressed up and down, marvelling at the tensile strength of him.

His mouth trailed over her face to the juncture between her neck and shoulder. Erotic heat washed through her.

When her grip tightened, his breath shuddered out.
‘Sí, mi querida
, that’s the right way to make it up to me.’

His hips bucked against her hold, heat and strength pulsing through her fingers. Liquid heat gathered between her thighs. She was unbelievably turned on by the pleasure she gave him.

At yet another caress he suddenly reared up and flipped her over. ‘You’re getting carried away.’

She slid her thighs either side of him and lowered herself until her wet heat touched him. The feel of his strong hands sliding down her back to capture her bottom made her shiver with delight.

‘Then me being on top wasn’t the best idea, was it?’

His predatory gaze swept over her, lingering on her breasts, making them peak even more painfully.

‘It’s time you learned that I can control you from whichever position I’m in,’ he breathed.

He surged into her, filling her so completely stars exploded behind her closed lids. He captured her nape, forced her down and took her mouth in a scorching kiss. His tongue seeking the deep cavern of her mouth, he took her over completely, escalating
the desire firing through her until Sasha was aflame with a pleasure so intense it frightened the small part of her brain that could still function.

Sasha hung on as he clamped one hand in the small of her back to hold her still. His pace was frantic, frightful in its demand and exquisite in its delivery of pleasure. She whimpered when he freed her mouth, only to blindly seek his for herself before she could draw another breath. Sensation spiralled out of control as bliss gathered with stunning speed.

‘Open your eyes. Let me see your eyes when you come for me.’

She obeyed. Then wished she hadn’t when the heat in his eyes threatened to send her already flaming world out of control.

‘Marco …’

‘
Sí
, I feel it too.’

She believed him. The sheen of sweat coating his skin, the unsteady hand that caressed down her face before recapturing her nape, the harsh pants that escaped his lungs all attested to the fact that he was caught in this incredible maelstrom too.

Pleasure scythed through her heart, arrowed down into her pelvis, forcing her to cry out one last time as her orgasm exploded through her.

Beneath her, still controlling their pleasure, Marco thrust into her release, groaning at the sensation of her caressing convulsions, then found his own satisfaction.

Their harsh breaths mingled, hearts thundering as the breeze cooled their sweat-damp skin. Far away, another burst of fireworks lit up the sky.

Inside the cabana, the intensity of their shared pleasure sparked a threat of fear through her.

To mask her feelings, she hid her face in his shoulder. ‘I’d love to compose a sonnet to you right now. But I have no words.’

A short rumble of laughter echoed through his heated chest. ‘Sonnets are overrated. Your screams of pleasure were reward enough.’

Sasha sighed, put her head on his chest and tried to breathe. The alarm that had taken root in that small part of her brain
grew. Something had happened between their first and second lovemaking.

Then she’d felt safe enough to fall asleep in Marco’s arms.

Now … Now she felt exposed. Her emotions felt raw, naked. Unbidden, tears prickled her eyes. She scrambled to hide her composure but Marco sensed her feelings.

Pushing her head gently off his shoulder, he stared into her face. ‘You’re crying. Why?’

How could she explain something she had no understanding of?

When she tried to shrug he shook his head. ‘Tell me.’

‘I’m just feeling a little overwhelmed. That’s all.’

After a second he nodded and brushed a hand down her cheek. ‘
Sí
. This is your first victory. That feeling can never be equalled.’

For several heartbeats Sasha didn’t follow his meaning. When she realised he was talking about the race, and not the roiling aftermath of their lovemaking, her heart lurched.

Panic escalating, she grasped the lifeline. ‘I wish my father had been there.’

Marco nodded. ‘He would’ve been proud of you.’

Surprise widened her eyes. ‘You knew my father?’

‘Of course. He was the greatest driver never to win a championship. I’ve seen every single race of his. Clearly you inherited his talent.’

The unexpected compliment made her feel even more tearful. She tried to move away but he caught her back easily, lowered his head and kissed his way along her arm. When she shivered, he shook out a cashmere throw and pulled it over them, one muscular leg imprisoning both of hers.

She was grateful for the cover—not least because the familiar feeling of humiliation had returned. ‘You know what happened to him, then?’

‘He bet on another car to win and deliberately crashed his car.’ The cold conviction in his voice sent an icy shiver down her spine, bleeding away the warmth she’d felt in his arms.

This time she moved away forcefully. Standing, she grabbed
her kaftan and slid it over her head, even though it did little to cover her nakedness.

‘The allegations were false!’

Marco folded his arms behind his head. ‘Not according to the court that found him guilty.’

‘He never managed to disprove the claims. But
I
believed him. He would
never
have done that. He loved racing too much to crash deliberately for money.’

‘I was on the board that reviewed the footage, Sasha. The evidence was hard to refute.’

Shock and anger twisted in her gut.
‘You
were one of those who decided he was guilty?’

He lowered his feet to the floor. ‘He didn’t do much to defend himself. It took him weeks to even acknowledge the charges.’

‘And that makes him automatically guilty? He was devastated! Yes, he should have responded to the allegations earlier, but the accusations broke his heart.’

Her voice choked as memories rushed to the fore. Her father broken, disgraced by the sport he’d devoted his life to. It had taken Sasha weeks to convince her father to fight to clear his name. And in those precious weeks his reputation in the eyes of the public had been sullied beyond repair. By the time Jack Fleming had taken the stand his integrity had been in tatters.

‘So he gave up? And let you carry the weight of his guilt?’

‘Of course not!’

‘Why did you promise him the championship?’

Sasha floundered, pain and loss ripping through her. ‘He started drinking heavily after the trial. The only time he stopped was when I had a shot at the Formula Two Championship. When I crashed and had to stay a while in hospital he started drinking again.’

‘You were in hospital? And the father you claim loved you
unconditionally
wasn’t there for you?’

Hazel eyes now devoid of passion taunted her.

Tears prickled her eyes but she refused to let them fall. In her darkest, most painful moments after losing her baby she’d asked herself the same question.

Blinking fiercely, she raised her chin. ‘Whatever point you’re trying to make, Marco, make it without being a total bastard.’

He sighed and ran a hand over his chin.

She stayed at the other end of the cabana, her arms curved around her middle.

‘Did you hire another lawyer to appeal?’

‘Of course we did. He … Dad died before the second trial.’

His gaze softened a touch. ‘How did he die?’

‘He drove his car off a bridge near our cottage.’ Pain coated her words. ‘Everyone thinks he did it because he was guilty. He was just … devastated.’

‘And you feel guilty for this?’

She plucked at the hem of her kaftan. ‘If I hadn’t got involved with Derek I’d have won a championship earlier. Maybe that would’ve saved my father …’

Marco’s hand slashed through her words. ‘Your life is your own. You can’t live it for someone else. Not even your father.’

‘Who’s got their psychoanalysing hat on now?’

His brow lifted. ‘You can dish it out but you can’t take it?’

Sasha tried to stem the wave of guilt that rose within her. After his trial she’d suggested her father not come to her races, because she’d watched him slide deeper into depression after attending every one.

‘Whatever he was, he wasn’t a cheat. And I intend to honour his memory.’

Marco rose from the lounger, completely oblivious to his sheer masculine beauty and the effect it had on her tangled emotions. Sasha wanted to burrow into him, to return to the warm cocoon of his arms. But she forced herself to stay where she was.

‘Come here.’

She shook her head. ‘No. I don’t like you very much right now.’

His smile made a mockery of her words as he strolled towards her. ‘That’s not true. You can’t keep your eyes off me. Just like I can’t take mine off you.’

‘Marco …’

He cupped her jaw and lifted her face to his. Her heart stuttered, then thundered. ‘You made your promise out of guilt—’

‘No, I want to win the Championship.’

‘Sometimes the best deal is to walk away.’

‘I don’t intend to. So don’t stand in my way.’

He brought his mouth within a whisper of hers. Sasha swayed towards him, her willpower depleting rapidly.

‘Determination is a quality I admire,
querida
. But remember I won’t tolerate anything that stands in the way of
my
desires.’

Tugging her firmly into his arms, he proceeded to make her forget everything but him. Including the fact that he’d never believed her father’s innocence.

Marco attended the next two races, flying back each time from Spain, where Rafael was still in a coma. When she won in Japan he took the whole team to celebrate, after which he took Sasha to his penthouse for a private celebration of their own.

After a tricky, hair-raising start, Korea secured her yet another victory. But one look at Marco’s taut expression when she emerged from the press conference told her there would be no team celebrations this time.

‘Marco?’

‘We’re leaving. Now.’

He whisked her away from the Yeongam Circuit in his helicopter, his possessive fingers tense around hers all through the flight to a stunning beach house on the outskirts of Seoul City, where he proceeded to strip off her race suit and her underclothes.

‘You know that by dragging me away like that in front of the team you’ve blown this thing between us wide open, don’t you?’ she asked, in the aftermath of another pulse-melting session in his bed.

His lovemaking had been especially intense, with an edge that had bordered on the frenzied. And, as much as she’d loved it, he’d left her struggling for breath, in danger of being swept away by the force of his passion.

He brushed a damp curl from her cheek and studied her face. ‘Does it bother you?’

She gave the matter brief thought. ‘There was speculation even before we were together. Paddock gossip can make the tabloid press look like amateurs.’

He pulled back slightly, his earlier tension returning. ‘That doesn’t answer my question.’

‘They knew I was a good driver before I started sleeping with you. They just didn’t want to acknowledge it because of who I am. I only care about what they think of me as a driver. What they think of me personally doesn’t matter. It never has.’

‘You’re a fighter,’ he said, his expression reflective.

‘I’ve had to fight for what I’ve achieved.’ She cast him a droll look. ‘As you well know.’

When he didn’t smile back, a cloud appeared on the horizon of her happy haze. ‘It bothers you that I don’t care what other people think about me?’

‘Single-mindedness has its place.’

‘I smell a
but
in there somewhere.’

His gaze because suspiciously neutral. ‘Following a single dream is risky. When it’s taken from you you’ll have nothing.’

‘When?
Not
if
? Are you trying to tell me something?’

‘Nothing lasts for ever.’