I glanced at Kristian, his handsome features illuminated by the lights as we headed into the city. I was surprised to see him looking back at me and I smiled, narrowing my eyes quizzically.
“What’re you looking at?”
“You. We don’t often find quiet time like this. I’m making the most of it,” he replied, his voice low.
I nibbled my lip, turning to check the hatch between us and the driver was closed before stretching across and dragging Kristian into a kiss. He returned it wholeheartedly and I felt all the desire and wanting I’d been trying to suppress since that night in Vegas rise up inside me. Our kissing didn’t remain chaste for long and when I delved my tongue into his mouth, Kristian groaned. The noise alone set my heart racing. Was he as desperate for this as I was?
Our hands were everywhere, groping and grabbing one another wherever we could as we kissed messily. When Kristian’s mouth found my neck, I took a deep, albeit shaky, breath in an attempt to control myself. I reached out an arm, steadying myself against the car door as we turned a corner.
“Fuck, Kristian,” I sighed, arching up into his touch as one of his hands found my breasts. “What are you doing to me?”
“If it makes you feel any better, I’m also doing it to myself,” came his muffled reply. He pulled away, attempting to untanglehimself from me as he sat back into his seat, but I continued to stroke my hands over him – from his wide chest down to the hard column of flesh I could feel beneath his suit trousers.
“Seriously,” he murmured. “We need to put the brakes on.”
“Why?” I whispered, evading his weak attempts to fight me off.
“Because we’re going to be at the event hall soon and—” He pressed my hand firmly against his erection. I moaned in response and took his mouth with my own once more. Kristian allowed me to kiss him for a moment longer before pulling back.
“Alright, alright,” I teased, sitting back into my own seat and tousling my hair. “I’ll give you a breather.”
“Thank you,” he muttered with a laugh. He scrubbed a hand over his face and stared out of the window at the cityscape. A moment of comfortable silence overcame us and whilst Kristian attempted to calm himself, I gazed across the car at him.God,he was handsome… Had he always been so hot, or was I just horny? Maybe both. I chuckled, realising some of my lipstick had smeared over his mouth, and the noise of it drew Kristian’s attention.
“Come here,” I said, gesturing him closer. When he obediently leant in, I wiped his lips off with my thumbs. “You’ve got lipstick all over you.”
“Oh, thanks.” Our eyes locked and I felt giddy. It was both exhilarating and nerve–wracking.
“There,” I sighed. “I think that’s all of it.”
“It had better be. The press would have a field day. Can you imagine?” he laughed.
Before I could answer, the car turned in to a long, sweeping horseshoe driveway that led to the event centre where the sponsor’s cocktail party was being hosted. Cameras were already flashing through the heavily tinted windows before we’d even come to a stop.
“Ready?” I asked, unbuckling myself. “Has your cock calmed down?”
“We’re all good,” Kristian replied with a grin.
I cast him a devilish smile. “For now. I have plans to get you so hard, you’ll be begging me for relief later.”
Kristian simply laughed and the door to the car opened. I swung my legs out, being careful not to flash anything inappropriate, and climbed out to greet the press. Kristian and I spent a moment smiling and posing side by side before heading inside. I breathed a sigh of relief, glad to be out of the tabloid’s scrutiny, though I knew some of the more prestigious journalists in motorsport would have been invited to attend this event.
Kristian and I were immediately accosted by various sponsors. I had hoped to stick beside the team principal for the night, keen for his protection from the worst of the leery old men, but we were quickly separated. Cocktail after cocktail was thrust into my hand as various CEOs, billionaires and marketing professionals sought my attention. The drinks were delicious, but I’d made the rookie mistake of having a light dinner. By the time I’d realised my error, I was already a little tipsy and that was a dangerous state to be in at this sort of event.
“Miss Rossi,” a familiar voice called through the sea of old men that seemed to loiter beside me wherever I went. I locked eyes with Davina Giovanni, one of the few female motorsport influencers and journalists, and an old friend.
“Am I glad to see you,” I muttered, tugging her close and kissing both her cheeks in greeting.
“You can say that again,” Davina replied. “You know, just as I think the racing circuit is making some real strides towards equality, I come to events like these and…” She trailed off, shooting me a wide–eyed grimace.
I threw my head back with a laugh. “I’m relieved that it’s not just me.”
“If one more crusty, old, white guy touches the small of my back, I think I’m going to scream,” Davina groaned, looping her arm in mine. “Come. You’re having a drink with me.”
“I really shouldn’t,” I argued, all the while allowing Davina to steer me through the crowds towards the bar. “I’ve had too many already.”
“Psh!” She flapped her hand. “You’re not racing again until next weekend. That’s plenty of time to recover.” She winked, passing her drink request to the mixologist before hopping up onto a bar stool. She patted the one beside her and I cautiously joined her.
“So, how has the season been so far without Harold?”
