Chapter 7

CHAPTER SEVEN

Charlie

I'm no inexperienced virgin, but Anton is unlike any partner I've had. His body fits with mine, moves with mine, with such perfect harmony it takes my breath. Normally shy about my less-than-streamline curves, I ride Anton's hips, concentrated pleasure rushing through me at the open desire in his eyes as he takes in my naked body.

"You are beautiful, chérie," he declares, his hands skimming my waist, my thighs, my hips, my breasts, and back to my waist again. "Exquisite."

His words send liquid shards of need through me, and I roll my hips, taking him deeper.

He closes his eyes, his fingers almost but not quite digging into my hips, guiding my movements as his thrusts increase in speed. "Charlotte…" he murmurs. "My Charlotte, ma seule amor…"

The words caress my senses. My French isn't perfect, but I can speak it well enough to understand.

My only love.

A tight heat blooms deep in my core and my breath quickens. "Anton…" I undulate on top of him, my nails marking his broad chest. "Anton…I'm going…I'm going to…"

With fluid speed, he moves, still embedded deep inside me, and rolls me onto my back. Pressing me to the bed, one hand slides up the back of my thigh, drawing my knee higher to our sides, while the other supports his upper body's weight as he gazes down at me. "Come with me, ma seule amor," he whispers, thrusting deeper and deeper, quicker and quicker inside me. "Come…"

I orgasm.

It crashes through me, a pulsing wave of intense pleasure and tight heat, and I arched beneath him, scoring my nails over his smooth back, his name bursting from me in a husky cry.

"Ma seule amor," he pants, his strokes growing faster, wilder, more erratic. He grips the back of my thigh and buries his head into the side of my neck, his lips and tongue and teeth marking my flesh in almost savage kisses that detonates my second orgasm.

I cry out, bucking up into Anton's powerful thrusts, and then, his fingers digging into my thigh, he throws back his head, a raw groan tearing from him as his release erupts.

Time hangs, suspended in pure pleasure and connection. Our bodies move as one, our climaxes peaking as one. And then, we come down together, our limbs—slicked with perspiration—tangled, our stares holding each other's, our ragged breaths mingling, mingling…until Anton's lips find mine, and he kisses me, slowly, until our bodies are spent and still.

I never want anyone else to make love to me ever again.

Lying on the bed, his length still deep inside me, his face pressed to the side of my neck, I stare at the ceiling, trying to comprehend the storm of thoughts and feelings swirling through me. It's not fathomable to be in love with him. Love takes time, patience, and yet…this intense, soul-deep, elemental emotion consuming me feels exactly like just that: love.

I must be insane.

Ma seule amor. My only love.

His words come back to me, like a warm caress over bare skin.

My only love.

Swallowing, I let out a wobbly breath. Falling in love so quickly isn't possible, so why do I feel like that's exactly what I've done. And maybe…

Maybe Anton feels it as well? The sheer force of what is happening between us?

"Charlotte?" Anton's husky whisper against my skin sends a wanton thrill through me and I close my eyes. Whatever this is, it's too powerful for me to comprehend now. Especially while our naked bodies are still joined.

"Anton," I whisper back, trailing my fingertips over his smooth back, losing myself for a heartbeat in the sculpted muscles' perfection. "Your father is wrong."

He grows still. I can feel his heart thumping in his chest against mine.

"You're not a failure," I continue, my own heart racing. "I know a lot about you, and I mean a lot —I researched the hell out of you when Carson offered me the job—and nothing I learned even remotely says failure. Arrogant, yes." I soften the words with a gentle chuckle. "A tad rebellious and a smidge antisocial, but not a failure. The opposite, in fact. You're incredible. And not just behind the wheel. I know about the foundation you established that supports medical care for underprivileged families. I know about the dog rescue shelter you one-hundred percent fund. I know all about these things…" Oh God, I shouldn't have started this. It's making me even more conflicted. "And you're not a failure," I finish. "Okay?"

He lifts his head and looks down at me, ice-blue eyes asking a question I don't have the answer for. Not yet. Not until I can think rationally.

"Okay?" I prod on a whisper.

"I…" he begins, before a rough sigh falls from him and he gently kisses my lips. "I will go have a shower, oui?"

Chest tight, I give him a slight nod.

He kisses me again, his lips even more gentle this time, withdraws from my body, and climbs from the bed.

I watch him make his way to the motor home's bathroom, aching for him already. Not just his body, with its Adonis-like muscles and form and proportions, but…but him . Everything that is him.

He pauses at the bathroom door, as if to ask a question, or perhaps, waiting to answer one.

Can I stay? I want to ask.

Instead, I bite my lip.

Another sigh escapes him, so soft I can barely hear it, and he disappears into the bathroom.

Closing my eyes, I pull in a deep, slow breath. It doesn't help. All I can do is smell Anton, on the air, the bedding, on my skin…

Throwing myself from the bed, I snatch up my clothes where he threw them and yank them on.

And pause.

On the dining table, in a large water jug, stems wrapped in pale blue Cellophane, is a bunch of white roses. A dozen gorgeous white roses, the flower emblem of Yorkshire.

My heart hammers into my throat, and I look again at the closed bathroom door. Was this why he was late to the meeting? Was he organising flowers? For me?

Squeezing my eyes shut, I press the heels of my hands to my forehead. I'm so confused. I need to understand what I'm feeling, and I can't do that in his presence. Not yet, at least. Besides, we're in Monaco for a race. Not…romance. The practice sessions are tomorrow, and I need to have my head in the game. Not in Anton's bed. Roses and unsettling emotions or not.

As does Anton. With the changes I'm making, he'll be driving a car he's not familiar with at all.

I regard the closed bathroom door, picturing Anton on the other side, water streaming down his amazing body.

How easy would it be to join him in there. To strip my clothes off again, open the door and step under the water with him. Slide my wet body against his. Take his hand and guide it to the junction of my thighs as he lowers his head to my breast and takes my nipple in his mouth, sucking on?—

"Stop it," I grind out on a tortured breath. "It has to stop."

Does it?

I leave, a cold finger of guilt dragging up my spine, the roses still in the jug on the table.

It does have to stop. For both our sakes.