Pure Pleasure (3 page)

“That’s a nice sentiment,” he said. “I can understand where you’re coming from. Racing was a big deal to my dad and being with the team and involved in the sport makes me feel closer to him, even though he’s no longer with us.”

“I’m sorry about that.”

He smiled sweetly at me, his eyes crinkling around the edges. “You know how it feels.”

“Yeah, I do.”

We were both quiet for a while, finishing our meals and sipping our beers. Finally, I asked, “What happened to your father?”

“Rollover. Came into a turn too hard and fast and the truck flipped several times. The roll cage collapsed under the pressure and both he and his co-driver were killed.”

I gasped. “Ky, I’m so sorry. How horrific. My father got cancer and we had months to prepare for the inevitable. You had seconds. I can’t even imagine—”

“It’s just as bad to have months as it is to have seconds, Giselle. Losing a parent no matter the circumstance is difficult. But it sounds as though you and your mom are still well connected with each other.”

“We are. What about you and your mother?”

He shook his head, then took a long pull from his beer, draining it. “She always said racing would be the death of him. Proven right, she packed up and moved to Hawaii. She didn’t want to be anywhere near our home in Texas or the racing world. I don’t blame her. She was devastated. We all were. But instead of running from the tragedy, I stepped up my research on a carbon fiber mix that’s helped me build a more substantial and nearly indestructible roll cage for Trophy Trucks. For any off-road racing vehicle, actually.”

“That’s incredible,” I told him, in awe of his ingenuity and drive. He couldn’t be more than twenty-five or six, but he had a sophisticated and mature air about him.

“Problem is,” he said, looking modest despite the safer innovation he brought to a very dangerous sport, “the compound is expensive to manufacture, so I’m having trouble replicating it for a reasonable cost that doesn’t break a race team’s budget. I’m still working on it, though. And advocating the racing organizations deem it a regulation component once I get the cost under control.”

“That’s very impressive,” I said, adding his inventiveness and conscientiousness to the list of things I liked about him.

“At the end of the day,” he told me in an earnest voice, “we’re all in this together. I don’t need to jack up the price of the cage for profit. I want it to be a standard feature on any race car for safety purposes, not for personal financial gain. If I’d had the prototype built before my dad’s last race… Who knows,” he said with a sigh. “It could have saved two lives.” He was quiet for a moment and then, in a low voice, he amended his statement, making it a conviction instead. “I know it would have saved their lives.”

“You can’t blame yourself,” I told him as I placed a hand over his while it rested on the table. “I’m sure your dad and his co-driver knew every hazard related to racing. It was their choice to get in that truck. This doesn’t fall on your shoulders, Ky.”

He gave a slight nod of his head. In turn, I gave him time to let the tense moment pass.

Finally, he stood and pulled some bills from his front pocket. He dropped the cash on the table and held his hand out to me. “How about a walk down by the water?”

Chapter Two

“Sounds nice,” I told Ky as I slipped my hand in his, once more reveling in the warmth and strength as well as the slight roughness of it. That physical zap I’d gotten earlier when we shook hands returned, the natural chemistry jolting me again.

He led me across the deck and we strolled along the walkway to the marina.

After several minutes, he glanced over at me and said, “You’re the quiet one now.”

A little embarrassed, I admitted, “I’m surprised I told you so much about myself. I never lay that heavy stuff at people’s feet. Must have been the tequila.”

He eyed me with a curious look. “How does anyone get to know you then?”

I shrugged. He had a valid point. But I’d written a series of articles years ago with a renowned dating expert who’d advised against revealing too much about your past, especially right off the bat. As was the case with most women, I’d eaten up that piece of advice, along with the word of warning that men preferred uncomplicated women, particularly ones without emotional baggage.

Yet walking beside me was a man who had his own emotional baggage and wasn’t hesitant to share it with me—or learn about mine. Maybe it was because we played on the same field—particularly with our family situations—we were comfortable sharing our true selves. I, for one, didn’t seem to have any trouble opening up to him. He was personable and engaging. I liked him immensely.

When we reached the pier, I asked, “What do you want to know about me?”

“Everything,” he said with a smile. “Starting with whether or not you’re involved with someone.”

I laughed. “Do I strike you as the type of woman who’d be holding hands with one man when she’s dating another?”

No,” he was quick to say. “You don’t. But I had to ask.”

We reached the dock that ran the width of the slips and arrived in front of a stunning boat anchored all by its lonesome. Or rather, it showed itself off spectacularly as it stretched along this otherwise empty portion of the marina.

“Wow,” I commented as I took in the sleek lines and pristine deck. “Some yacht.”

“It’s a sixty-three-foot Sea Ray 630 Super Sun Sport.”

My head whipped in Ky’s direction. “You know boats too?”

“I know this one.” With an easy grin, he explained, “She belongs to the race team. I sleep here when we’re racing near a lake or an ocean. It’s quiet and private and I enjoy the sound of the water lapping against the sides. Calms my nerves before a hectic day on the racetrack. You wanna step inside?”

“Hell, yes,” I blurted out before the implication of my words even hit my brain. “I mean, you know. Just to see the interior.” My cheeks flushed as Ky chuckled.

“I wasn’t expecting anything else,” he told me.

My face and neck still burned. He led me forward and I realized I went without a bit of reluctance. Despite my bumbling, I truly wanted to see the personal space he coveted and was thrilled he’d invited me onboard.

We took the short flight of steps at the back of the boat down to what I could only refer to as the belly of the Sea Ray, possessing little nautical knowledge or vernacular myself. Regardless of my lack of comparative examples to drawn upon, I was blown away by the opulence of the living room setting and the wet bar. The sofas were plush and a deep-blue hue that wasn’t quite royal and not quite navy. The accents were rich, polished cherrywood, illuminated by a warm golden glow from the soft lighting. Wood floors and travertine in the galley added to the elegance and sophistication of the interior.

“Impressed?” Ky asked as I took it all in.

“This is unbelievable. I’d never guess from the outside how much space there is. A family of six could live here comfortably.”

“You’re right. She sleeps four plus two crew members, when they’re needed.”

“Crew members?” I whistled under my breath. “Yeah, this is definitely my idea of a yacht.”

“Don’t be intimidated.”

Easier said than done. “I did mention I grew up in a one-bedroom apartment in a rough neighborhood in Seattle, right? My mother’s idea of inspiring me to do better than she’d done was to take me to the Four Seasons Resort when I was thirteen and it left me speechless. Guess she wanted me to see how the ‘other half’ lived.”

“I see her plan worked,” he told me as he eyed my outfit and shoes.

With a shake of my head, I said, “Don’t be fooled. I buy everything secondhand. Most of my money goes to my classes and my mom.”

“Is that why you wrote features when you were younger? For the money?”

“I still do.”

“Ever just write for the love of it?”

A nice sentiment, but not a luxury I’d ever felt I could afford. “Call it fear of slipping into the poverty level, as was the case when I was a kid. Nothing motivates you as much as having to rely on food stamps to eat—not even a ‘this could be your lifestyle if you work hard enough’ trip to the Four Seasons.”

“All of that is why you dropped out of school to get a job.”

“We were both ashamed,” I told him honestly, though I had no idea why I shared so much of my sordid past. Ky was just incredibly easy to talk to and seemed genuinely interested without being the least bit judgmental. “It’s humbling, even when you’re a teenager. As for my mom… She was just so devastated and humiliated she didn’t have the means or the skills to provide for me the way she wanted to, or thought she should. Even though I never asked for anything, she wanted me to have the same things other girls at school had. Namely, dolls and dresses that didn’t come from Goodwill.”

“How’d you feel about that?” he asked in an empathetic, not pitying, voice.

My gaze snapped up and I said, “I didn’t care about that part. You quickly outgrow clothes and toys when you’re young—and besides, it honed my skills for scouting killer deals on shoes and handbags later in life.” I made light of my lack of material possessions because all that had really mattered to me was that my mom and I stuck together and worked as a team after losing my dad. “Back then, nothing held my interest long enough to make me feel I was missing out on anything. That is, until I got to Scottsdale…”

I remembered feeling too similar to Little Orphan Annie among the women who all seemed to have been left hefty inheritances by Daddy Warbucks. Melodie had helped me to cultivate a style that had allowed me to fit into my upscale environment, though I was the only one at the magazine who lived in a small studio apartment outside the city limits.

“What mattered most to me,” I told him, “was to make things easier on my mother. And all that mattered to her was that I live a better life.”

“So you’ve both made concessions for each other. I bet she’s proud of you, Giselle.”

His fingertips grazed my temple as he swept back long bangs from my face. His fingers skimmed along my jaw and then rested beneath my chin, gently lifting it.

I stared into his mesmerizing eyes as he seemed to commit every detail of my face to memory.

My breathing turned shallow and my chest rose and fell a bit faster. My appreciation of Ky’s grounded nature aside, I was intensely attracted to him. I felt an exciting current arc between us, connecting us and drawing us closer together, despite the fact that neither one moved. Only a few inches of space separated us, and while I wanted to close the gap, I was paralyzed by the electricity running rampant through my body.

I tingled and sizzled from head to toe and my inner walls clenched involuntarily, as though my pussy were anticipating being filled by this magnificent man.

The thought sent a shiver of exhilaration down my spine.

His irises darkened in color and his jaw clenched for a moment before his head dipped and his lips brushed over mine. I jumped back almost instantly, as though he’d poked me with a cattle prod.

I sucked in a breath as heat erupted in my belly and shockwaves rippled through my body.

I pressed two fingers to my lips for a second. Ky’s jaw tightened again as he seemed to process, the way I did, what had just happened between us.

Finally, I asked, “You felt that, right?”

With a slow nod, he said, “To the core of my being.”

“That’s a little scary, don’t you think?”

The shake of his head was a decisive one. “Considering I haven’t been able to get you off my mind since the moment I laid eyes on you in the pits… Guess I’m not surprised.”

My heart beat so hard, I wondered if he could hear it. My pulse raced and that pressure in my pussy put me right on the edge again of wanting to jump his bones.

He reached for my hand and coaxed me back to him. “You’re fascinating and gorgeous and compassionate. Yeah, I’m gonna feel a jolt when I kiss you. I like it.”

“I wasn’t complaining,” I told him, his words bringing a smile to my face. “I’ve just never felt my insides flip so dramatically. Made my toes curl too.”

“Aw, I can do better than that.” He bent his head to mine again and kissed me. A full-on, openmouthed, tongue-tangling kiss that sent every fiber of my being haywire.

His arms circled my waist and he pulled me to him, our bodies instantly melding together. His kiss was nothing short of mind-blowing. Searing. Powerful. Passionate. I clutched one of his massive biceps to hold myself steady, not that I was going anywhere in his tight embrace. My other hand plowed through his silky hair, twisting in the long strands.

He kissed me as though we’d both been waiting our whole lives for this moment. I realized
I
had been. No man had ever captured my interest so quickly or sent my heart soaring and my soul rejoicing. He held me against his hard, hunky body in a possessive way that was thrilling and as arousing as everything else he did to me—as arousing as everything about him.

He deepened our kiss, as if he couldn’t get enough of me. My stomach flipped again and my pussy ached for him as a rapacious need tore through my body. An almost animalistic nature replaced my usually sensible one. I had the sudden desire to strip his clothes from him and touch and taste his hot flesh. My fingertips burned to press into his rigid muscles as he drove into me, hard and fast.

Oh yeah, my emotions were way out of control…as was my physical response to him.

The fiery sensations obviously burned within him too, because he broke our kiss and muttered, “Getting hot in here, isn’t it?”

He reached for the zipper on my sweater and whisked it down its track. I had no desire to relinquish my hold on him, but wanted out of the heavy garment. I yanked it off and tossed it toward the sofa. Then I gripped fistfuls of T-shirt at his waist and pulled, lifting the shirt up. Ky grabbed the material at the back of his neck and hauled the tee over his head. It went the way of my sweater.

As he stood bare-chested before me, I fought to make my ragged breathing slow, but it only came in heavier pulls as I stared at him. To say he had a killer body would not do the man justice. His biceps bulged with rock-hard muscles and his forearms were equally strong. Above his collarbone, his traps had just the right definition to them, with an enticing display of pecs below. Small, pebbled nipples called to me and I couldn’t resist the urge to scrape a manicured fingernail over one, which made his body jerk as he groaned.

The pads of my fingers trailed down his remarkably sculpted abs, his muscles flexing beneath my touch. I reached for the top button of his fly and toyed with the metal disc.

He said, in a somewhat strained voice, “Know what you’re doing, sweetheart?”

“I know what I’m doing,” I assured him. “The more accurate question is, do I know what I’m getting myself into?”

His sexy grin twisted my insides in knots and did incredibly crazy things between my legs. My clit tingled and my inner thighs quivered.

“You don’t have to get yourself into anything you’re not sure of, darlin’. I’d be content stretching out on the couch and kissing you all night long. I’ll keep my clothes on. Or I can walk you back to the hotel.”

I suspected the latter would be the safest approach, but it wasn’t at all what I wanted. Though a one-night stand with a sinfully delicious man like Ky was most definitely not the norm for me—one-night stands in general weren’t—I couldn’t muster the decency to walk away. And while his first offer was appealing, I knew deep in my heart I wanted more.

Innate, electrifying connections such as this didn’t grow on trees, that was for damn sure.

“I’m not ready to leave just yet, if that’s okay with you.”

The glimmer in his eyes told me it was more than okay with him. He said, “Stay as long as you want. I’m in no hurry for you to go anywhere.”

“I like that you always say what’s on your mind,” I told him. “You’re not out to win someone over for your own benefit or hold back to protect yourself. That’s very rare.”

“Not really. You’re the same way.”

“Oh I have plenty of defense mechanisms,” I admitted with a laugh. But then something profound occurred to me and I found myself saying, “The world I live in isn’t exactly known for warmth and sincerity. Scottsdale can be a very superficial and pretentious town. Not everyone is that way, of course. But more so than not. I guess that’s why I don’t talk about where I come from or let people know who I really am.”

“Why do you stay? The magazine?”