She needed more. Needed him. Inside her. She pushed her bottom against his erection. “Toby, please.”
He grasped her waist, spun her around and lifted her out of her dress to sit her on the table. A quick movement stripped her panties down her legs, but he left her stiletto sandals behind. He stepped between her thighs. Clamping his hand behind her neck, he yanked her forward for a slap of her br**sts against his chest and a ravenous meeting of mouths. His tongue thrust deep, tangled, stroked. His hurried hands raked her back, her bottom, her legs.
Impatient, she tugged open his belt and pants and cupped his erection through his briefs. What had he done to her? When had she become a woman driven by her desires?
He swore when her fingers delved beneath fabric to surround him, shoved his hand into his pocket and retrieved a condom and then let his pants fall to his ankles. Amelia took the packet from him, ripped it open and rolled the latex down his steely shaft.
He gritted his teeth and inhaled deeply through his nose, and then his hands curled around her h*ps and pulled her forward. She guided him into her center, where he plunged deep in one sure stroke. His heart pounded hard and fast beneath her palm and his chest hair tickled her skin.
He speared his hands into her hair and then muttered against her lips as his h*ps pistoned. “Hair. Down.”
She reached up and released the single clip. Her hair tumbled in a cool tangle against her shoulders. His fingers stabbed into the strands, dragging her back until her spine pressed against the cold table.
The table was hard. Toby was harder. Hotter. He pounded into her. She tangled her legs around his waist and arched to meet each hurried thrust. This wasn’t like before. This need was stronger. Deeper. More intense. Her muscles quivered as passion built swiftly. The control she valued so highly was nowhere to be found. Seconds later, release rocketed through her.
Toby’s groan mingled with her moan as he shuddered above her and then stilled. His labored breaths steamed her neck. His lips and hands soothed as if to make up for the frenzied lovemaking.
Slowly he eased upright, bracing his weight on one arm. His gaze met hers and his palm cradled her cheek. “For what it’s worth, I missed you, too. Didn’t want to. Didn’t have time to.” He shrugged. “But that’s the way it is.”
Her stomach swooped as if she’d plunged over the peak of the highest roller coaster. And there in the least romantic place in the entire world—flat on her back on top of a Ping-Pong table, for pity’s sake—Amelia realized this wasn’t a crush.
She’d done the unthinkable.
She’d fallen in love with Toby Haynes.
And there was no chance at all that he’d ever return her feelings. Or that she’d want him to.
Whoever had come up with the line “Out of sight, out of mind” was full of crap.
Toby stared at the ceiling, unable to sleep despite the fatigue chaining his body to the mattress. But instead of rising and dealing with the mountain of race weekend work waiting on his notebook computer, he stayed where he was with Amelia tucked against his side and her head on his shoulder. Warm. Soft. Asleep. Her sweet-smelling hair teased his chin and her soft puffs of breath stirred his chest hair. One silky leg snaked across his.
She’d been antsy as hell to leave after that embarrassingly fast encounter on the Ping-Pong table, but he’d bulldozed her into the shower and then back to bed for a slower round. He had to make it up to her for going off like an inexperienced kid beneath the high school bleachers.
What in the hell had happened tonight?
He’d been looking forward to surprising her at the ball, to telling her about his medical progress and his crazy week and hearing about hers. But the moment he’d spotted her in the prince’s arms he’d wanted to kick some royal ass. Knowing the guy was her suitemate’s lover hadn’t made a bit of difference. Toby had wanted blue blood on his knuckles.
Because of his father, Toby didn’t do violence. He let his driving do the talking instead of his fists.
And he didn’t do jealousy. He had never made a fool of himself over any woman and never would. But he’d felt more than a twinge of possessiveness tonight. Amelia was his. For now. He’d worked damned hard to get her back in the sack.
It hadn’t helped that he knew she deserved a man who could give her the royal treatment and fulfill all her silly romantic notions. God knows she had a surplus of those.
Despite having the Atlantic Ocean and a seven-hour time difference between them, she’d monopolized his thoughts all week. He’d driven himself to exhaustion day after day, but every night he’d fallen asleep thinking about her. She’d invaded his dreams and been his first waking thought each morning—a result of the morning boner those dreams had generated, he assured himself.
He’d wanted her no-nonsense opinion on this medical test or that one and he’d wondered what she’d think of the other drivers’ wives. Some were in it for the money and attention, but there were a few stickers he thought she’d like.
Did Amelia have what it took to be a sticker? To stand by her man through good times and bad?
Probably. But it didn’t matter. He didn’t do long-term relationships.
He had to nip this thing he had for Amelia Lambert in the bud before he wasted any more time picturing her nak*d on the king-size bed of his motor coach.
He had two weeks left to get his fill of her, and the only way to do that was to saturate himself with her company and her body. Starting now, he’d stick to her as tight as the decals on his race car.
And then it would be over and he’d be free of this obsession that had haunted him for months.
“Where are you going?”
Amelia winced at the sound of Toby’s sleep-roughened voice behind her. “To my room.”
She gave up on the stubborn zipper and reached for the doorknob. She’d hoped to escape his suite without having to face him. The discovery of her feelings was too new and raw.
She heard him cross the room, and then his warm fingers brushed her spine as he finished zipping her dress. “Stay. I’ll order breakfast.”
Her nerve endings danced beneath a tent of goose bumps. She didn’t want to turn around. Didn’t want to look him in the eye. If he guessed her feelings, he might pity her, and she’d had a lifetime of pitying looks from the neighbors after each of her parents’ shouting matches.
Or, worse, he might paste on that professional face he wore when approached by autograph-seeking fans. There was nothing wrong with that face if you didn’t know him well enough to see the walls behind the smile. But she did.
That brash smile hid a really nice guy. One who was loyal to his friends and his employees. One who’d been abandoned by his mother and hurt by his father but had still managed to turn out all right. Better than all right. And it was those moments when she’d glimpsed past the cocky attitude that had landed her in this trouble.
“I need clothes. I can’t wear my evening gown all day.”
The pale yellow tulle showed signs of having spent the night on the floor. Last night the gown had made her feel like a wood nymph. Today it looked more like crumpled litter.
And she needed space. To think. To decide how to fix this mess she’d gotten into. If it was fixable.
“I’ll lend you a shirt.” His arms banded around her, pulling her stiff body against his. From the intensity of the heat, she guessed he’d climbed from the bed nak*d to come after her. “You’ll look sexy as hell in my shirt.”
“I don’t want to miss Candace’s morning meeting.”
“Vincent hasn’t seen her in weeks. He’ll keep her occupied.”
“You don’t know that for sure.”
“Yeah, I do. Last night he told me he planned to take her to his place and keep her in bed for a week.” His bristly chin prickled deliciously against her jaw, and his hands stoked the fires that should have been extinguished last night. “Sounds like a good plan.”
“Toby—” Her breath hitched as he cupped her mound through the wispy layers of fabric. “I can’t find my panties. Last night’s or the ones you stole the other day.”
“I’m holding them for ransom.” She felt his smile against her cheek and heard it in his voice.
His fingers worked magic, pooling heat beneath his palm. If she didn’t get away soon, she’d cave. She twisted abruptly and pulled out of his arms. He looked sleep-rumpled and sexy with his hair standing in golden spikes and a morning erection that begged for attention. Dangerous territory.
She focused on the tiny scar on the bridge of his nose rather than his eyes or his gorgeous body. “I want my own clothes.”
He swiped a hand across his chin. “Yeah. Okay. Bring a couple of days’ worth while you’re at it.”
“Why?”
“You’ll be spending your nights here.”
Internal alarms clanged. “That’s not a good idea.”
“You like sneaking out every morning?”
Not really. “Sharing your room is too…domesticated.”
“It’s convenient.”
She gathered her courage and met his gaze. Her resistance wavered, but she soldiered on. “Have you ever lived with a woman before?”
“No.”
“And I’ve never lived with a man. I don’t think we should be each other’s firsts for something so important.”
“It’s only for two weeks.”
“It would still feel like a commitment to me. And you said…you didn’t want one of those.” She hated the slight rise in her voice, as if she were asking instead of stating a fact.
His expression closed. “Monaco only. That’s our deal.”
Her heart sank a little. Yes, that was their deal. One she’d readily agreed to. How could she have known her feelings for Toby would change? But his hadn’t. And just because she’d fallen for him didn’t mean she could ever be comfortable with his hazardous career.
That being the case, she couldn’t and wouldn’t let herself get used to playing house with Toby. It would make ending this relationship even more difficult.
His eyebrows lowered. He looked ready to argue but shook his head as if deciding against it. “Today’s race day. I want to show you what I do when I’m not in the car. One of my techies did some space-age stuff and rigged up my laptop so I can communicate with the team live. You can listen in on the radio.”
His excitement was palpable and curiosity got the better of her. “Okay.”
“We’ll start after we work out. Bring clothes for today and tonight, too.” He turned and strode back into the bedroom.
Amelia stared after him, both stunned and amused by his assumption that she’d comply without question. He’d soon see otherwise.
And as inevitable as sunrise, she’d soon see heartbreak.
Who was this impostor and what had he done with Toby Haynes? Amelia asked herself as she paced Toby’s suite Sunday night.
The seductive playboy had vanished, and in his place sat a sharp, decisive, no-nonsense businessman. Even his body language had changed. Instead of a casual you-know-you-want-me-come-and-get-me posture, Toby looked commanding and every inch the multimillionaire force to be reckoned with the magazines declared him to be.