Fast & Hard: A Formula 1 Romance (The Fast Series) Read online

  Mallory

  “Can you see out the window,” I ask Aria as I maneuver my laptop screen around my charming second-story brick flat at headquarters to give her the grand tour via Skype. “Sometimes there are sheep out in that field, sheep! How British is that?”

  “I’m so jealous! I’m here looking out our window with a view of the sanitation station,” Aria jokes.

  We landed in London less than 48 hours ago and when I made my way back to my cozy new home in Aylesbury, I must have slept for the first 24 hours. I didn’t even bother to unpack my boxes which have mostly arrived from the States. I need to ask Matty for tips and tricks for coping with jetlag because I am all kinds of out of sorts.

  There are at least two housing buildings on campus, as far as I can tell. Both are old-world brown brick construction, original windows with white shutters, and old slate roof tiles with occasional patches of green moss growing between them. They’re tucked away from the other Celeritas buildings and overlook a meadow that is green with lush spring grass. It’s quintessential small-town Britain. The kitchen and bath are both small but updated and manage to keep the old-timey feel.

  According to Sandra, Lennox’s flat is direct across the hall from mine and Matty and Jack share a flat on the first floor. The third floor above us has two flats for executives. I haven’t seen anyone else in the building but me, but I’ve also been sleeping like the dead and wouldn’t have noticed a rampaging moose roaming about. The campus is sprawling with a massive glass front factory building a quarter of a mile down a narrow red brick road, a modern office complex, and beyond that is a test track for the cars. I haven’t had time to tour anything besides the office complex and meet some of the security guards who patrol the gated grounds.

  “Did you get to do anything cool in Australia?” Aria asks, sipping her morning coffee while I’m thinking of another afternoon nap on my side of the world.

  “There was no time, really. I was busy trying to make a good first impression and keep Lennox in line, clean up all of his social media accounts, beg him to behave at all the press conferences.” I tell her.

  “Did you have to get down on your knees while begging?” Aria winks.

  “Hardy har,” I curl my lip at her. “He spent the first several days trying to get me to quit but it’s been better lately. I hope he’s given it up. When he’s not insistent on being a complete jerk, he’s actually pretty tolerable.”

  “I bet he is.”

  “It’s not like that at all and you know it. I’m not going to screw this job up. I can’t,” I shake my head and set my laptop down on the kitchen counter so I can still see Aria while I make my first official cup of tea.

  “Have you heard from your parents or David?” Aria asks, yawning and rubbing her eyes.

  “My mom texted me a news article a woman from the club sent her about a Melbourne climate change protest that was scheduled so I could avoid the ‘riff-raff.’ I didn’t respond, obviously. I talked to David for a few minutes,” I sigh.

  “And how is he handling this?” She asks, picking up on the change in my tone as I drop an English Grey tea bag into the white porcelain teacup my flat came equipped with.

  “I think I need to end it, Aria.” I plop down on a barstool at my tiny kitchen counter and prop my head upon my elbow. “I thought about it the whole flight home, which is a very long time, let me tell you.”

  “And?”

  “I just… he never called once. When I finally reached him, all he wanted to talk about was Cooper Media and how he and Dad are fighting with them, their stupid publisher rivalry, the same tired conversation. I started to tell him that Ms. Alix in Marketing here was really happy with my work and that I was proud of myself and he blew me off, told me ‘that’s nice’ and went right back into the latest Cooper Media nonsense.”

  “He’s a self-absorbed twat.” Aria nods. She’s told me this a thousand times, of course.

  “This is a new start for me, you know? I need to focus on work and build something for myself, do something that makes me happy. And he just doesn’t make me happy.” I feel more alive arguing with Lennox, for god sake. My kettle on the stove starts to whistle and I stand up to turn it off, steam clouding the Skype session as I pour the boiling water and christen my first cup of Earl Grey.

  “Your parents are going to go through the roof,” Aria says.

  “I know but if I do this now, at least I won’t be home for them to make me miserable.” I gave this a lot of thought and this really has been a long time coming.

  “So what are you going to do, call him?”

  “No, I should come home and tell him in person. I owe him that much. He isn’t a monster, this just isn’t working. I think I can swing a quick trip home after the next race.” There won’t be anything quick about the flying time from London to Bahrain in the Gulf, to New York, then to China in time for the next race, though. I don’t know how everyone does it. It probably helps that Lennox, Matty, and Jack fly first class and I’m in the cattle pen section of economy. I make a mental note to sign up for frequent flyer programs so I can at least rack up points.

  Aria and I chat for an hour and two cups of Earl Grey before she needs to head out to an appointment with a new personal training client she’s signed up. Disconnecting, I was thinking about taking a stroll around the Celeritas grounds, but I hear a rumble in the hallway outside of my front door. Maybe I’m not the only one knocking around in this old building?

  Prancing to the front door I peer out the peephole and see Lennox fiddling with his key at his door then kicking it open with his foot and shoving his large suitcase in before the door closes behind him. He has no media or events scheduled during this break between races and I only have a few meetings scheduled with the Marketing Team so it should be a little downtime for us. If Lennox cooperates and doesn’t go on a bender making headlines we don’t need, that is.

  I can’t deny the butterflies flapping in my gut at the thought that he’s living right across the hall from me again. It was weird enough in the Melbourne hotel after I had to move so my room could be fumigated for bugs and the hotel stuck me right across from Lennox. Then again, it is comforting not to be alone in this old creaky building by myself in case Jack the Ripper is on the loose. This is certainly not New York where I’m surrounded by millions of people at all times.

  Thirty minutes later, I hear his door open again. The building is old and has thin walls, apparently, which is not a good thing for sleep but it is a good thing for keeping tabs on him to make sure he doesn’t do anything to get us both into trouble. That’s definitely what I’m on the watch for as I race silently to my front door again and catch him exiting just in time, in gym shorts and a grey tank top that exposes his rugged shoulders and sculpted biceps.

  Definitely not club apparel, we should be safe. Still, it is my job to prevent paparazzi slip-ups or media snafus so I should probably see what he’s up to. In the interest of my job.

  I throw on my favorite black leggings and a casual but cute off the shoulder tee and grab a hoodie I’ve unpacked because it’s still cool in the evenings and the sun is almost down now. There’s nothing to be done about my bedhead but a high ponytail and a coating of ruddy peach lipgloss cleans me up a little bit.

  Outside, landscaping lights line the cobblestone sidewalks and they flicker to life as it grows darker. Security buzzes past me in a golf cart and gives me a friendly wave as I make my way toward the factory and office buildings off in the distance. Magenta and deep purple azaleas are thoughtfully landscaped along the paths weaving throughout campus and with administration personnel gone for the day, it’s quiet and peaceful and downright romantic. I stuff my hands into my hoodie pockets and stroll on, grinning inside. It’s everything I dared to dream of when I left New York and with Sandra pleased and Lennox relatively harmonious, in his own way, everything is right on track.

  The administration building is up ahead and as I grow closer I can hear music and bass thumping insid
e, interrupting the solitude and silence of the grounds. They keycard in my pocket buzzes me in the door of the building that’s closed for the night and dark save safety exit lighting. I recognize this building from my first day with Sandra and the music is growing louder as I reach the gym door.

  Peeking in, the music blasts me as the door cracks. AC/DC is thumping out It’s a Long Way to the Top (If You Wanna ‘Rock n’ Roll) at ear-piercing decibels. They were from Australia if memory serves, and Lennox’s music choice makes me grin as I sneak in. He’s alone in the gym with his back to me pulling cables through a strength training machine that’s lifting and dropping heavy iron weights with every tug and release of the handles.

  His grey tank has a band of sweat down the middle and I’m mesmerized watching his shoulders clench together over and over as I prowl into the room and take a seat on a weight bench behind him, watching like a total creeper. Thick black lines of a back tattoo peek out from under his shirt sleeves as he flexes. This is the best free entertainment the UK has to offer, I’m sure of it.

  “See anything you like?” He calls with his back still to me. My eyes had moved down to his tight ass in those gym shorts but his voice booming over the music startles me and I look up and catch him looking at me in a mirror in front of his machine. Damn gym mirrors, why do they even exist? No one looks good at the gym, sweating, and puffing.

  No one except people built like Lennox Gibbes.

  He snatches a white towel hanging from his machine and wipes off his face and forehead before reaching for a remote nearby and turning the volume of the stereo down. I’m sure my face is flushed as I sit here with my legs crossed, obviously ogling the man before me. But he’s hot and he knows it, so pretending I have only pure thoughts in my head right now is only going to make me look more ridiculous.

  “I was just strolling around campus and heard the music,” I bald-faced lie. He studies me silently, not even winded from that torture machine he’s been abusing and, out of sheer nervousness, under the scrutiny of his stare, I keep talking. “I didn’t get to talk to you after the race very much but I wanted to tell you I really liked the race and I was,” I pause, rethinking saying something vulnerable and honest to him, “I was proud of you.” My head lowers and I’m waiting for the sarcastic comment or barb from him.

  “Why would you be proud of me? You barely know me and it was only second place,” he answers as he looks down at his hands, wiping them off in the gym towel for longer than it should take. Is he nervous? Impossible.

  “I’ve never seen a race before. Matty had to explain to me what was happening the whole time, but it was amazing. And then watching you pass all those cars… I know I don’t understand how everything works, but I was proud of you for doing so well.” I shrug my shoulders and realize I probably sound like an idiot fangirl.

  Good job, Mallory. Now he’s going to demand you go home, again.

  “Well, I’ve got forty-five minutes left or your friend Matty will have my ass.” He turns his back to me and returns to pulling the machine’s cables, both at once this time with his arms going wide to the side and his forearms rippling with each elevation of the stacked weights.

  “Most people say ‘thank you’ when they’re complemented, Lennox,” I chide him as I get off my bench and make my way to his side. Bad idea, now I’m up close and can feel the heat coming off him.

  “I’ll thank you properly in 45 minutes if you’d like,” he muses in that delectable accent, arms still working the machine and the metal clink of the weights tapping down every few seconds.

  Nope, he can be a human and thank me. Or respond with any variety of socially acceptable acknowledgment. I raise an eyebrow, fold my fingers together in front of me and stare at him. We’re going to have an old fashioned Mexican standoff until he grows some manners.

  After several moments in which it’s growing harder to keep quiet and not gawk at him too shamelessly, he finally drops the weights and they slam to the base with an echo in the room. “Either join me or go back to your flat. You’re creeping me out, you stalker.”

  “Join you? In what? I can’t do that…,” I point to the machine with what’s surely sixty tons of free weights attached. I’m a treadmill and elliptical kind of girl, never could get those sculpted Michelle Obama arms.

  Before I can protest more, he’s grabbed me around the waist and has planted me in front of the machine. “Take this off,” he takes the hoodie from my shoulders and pulls it down and tosses it aside. He’s standing right behind me and I can see him in the mirror in front of us.

  He puts the pulley handles in my hands and says to pull straight back. “Yes, haha, you’re a big strong man, I get it,” I groan as the weights don’t budge an inch from their resting place even when I struggle with all of my body weight.

  He chuckles and adjusts the weights on each side of the machine before returning to his stance of towering over me from behind. “Square your hips up,” he says and steps closer, his two hands firmly gripping my hips, his long fingers wrapping around my pelvis and controlling my core. I shiver at his touch, the warmth of his hands penetrating my thin leggings.

  “Pull,” he commands and I do, watching him watch me in the mirror. This time the weights move up and then slam back down as I release them. “Don’t let them slam down, controlled descent.” His eyes are on mine in the mirror every time I dare to look. I can feel his breath on my neck and I’m going to soak through my panties if we don’t stop this.

  Stop this, Mallory.

  Several revolutions more and my muscles are on fire from the weights, my body on fire from Lennox. “Keep your back straight,” he says and takes a step closer to me then pressing his chest against my back to force my form. His feet are planted on either side of mine, his body swallowing mine up. I suck in a deep breath at the feel of his hard chest and stomach pushed against me, his body temperature and sheen of sweat making our tees cling between us.

  My arms and shoulders go through the motions on autopilot but I’m speechless and dazed. Surely I look just like one of his awestruck groupies waiting for him to sign my breasts.

  He stays pressed up against me and I start to feel what can only be his growing length getting hard and pressing into my lower back. I want badly to push back against it but this is insane, I cannot do this. “Lennox, unless that’s a barbell between your legs, we have to stop this.”

  “Don’t know what you mean,” he whispers and drops his head to the side of mine, his nose lightly brushing my hair just above my ear. Oh god, he’s going to make me say it.

  “You’re hard,” I whisper, still watching him in the mirror.

  His head lowers even farther until his lips are nanometers away from my skin, the warmth of his breathing just below my ear. “And you’ve got goosebumps,” he whispers and runs his nose along the valley of my neck.

  “Ok,” I exclaim, dropping the pulleys and letting the weights slam down, “we’re not doing this!”

  God, I want to do this.

  I step away from him and put my hands on my hips. The loss of his body heat is immediate and I’m sure my nipples are betraying me at this very moment and pointing at him like daggers.

  “If you say so,” he smirks and fidgets with the machine to put the weights back to his herculean levels, then he’s right back in the swing of his workout while I stand like a statue trying to regain any sense of composure. So cool and controlled at all times.

  Stupid sexy asshole.

  I glare at him for a moment while he utterly ignores me, before I run my hands over my pulled back hair and pace a few steps trying to rid my body of these traitorous hormones coursing through my veins. I take several deep breaths and then step onto a treadmill. I’m already sweaty, I need to do something with this pent up energy inside me now, and goddamn it, I don’t want to leave.

  I push the buttons on the machine and ramp up into a decent clip, running and running the desire away, while Lennox continues his assault on the strength machine. In m
y peripheral vision, I can see he’s still watching me in the mirror in front of him but I keep my eyes straight ahead and stare at a very interesting flaw in the drywall in front of me.

  Thirty minutes later he finally lets his weights drop and I slow my machine down until I can step off. He wipes himself off with his gym towel and I do the same with a clean one from a wall rack. Both of us wipe our machines down. Neither of us speaks as he turns off the stereo and flips the light switch on our way out.

  It’s a slow, silent walk back to the housing unit with Lennox beside me in the dark, his arm occasionally brushing mine as we wind down the narrow pathways. He holds the front door open for me at our building and we march up the flight of old wooden stairs together, the hallways dimly lit by wall lanterns.

  “You still never said ‘thank you’” I mumble when we’ve reached our respective flat doors opposite each other.

  “You wanna invite me in then, love?” He nods to my flat door.

  “I can’t,” I shake my head. My knees are weak and my body feels like goo but I don’t think it was the treadmill sprinting.

  “Ok, then. G’night,” he says and turns to open his door while I still stare at him like a stupid lovestruck schoolgirl until I realize I need to also get my key out and open my door. “See you in Bahrain, unless you’re ready to quit now,” he adds as I fumble with my key in the lock.

  “Wait, what?” I don’t even register his comment about me quitting. We have over a week until Bahrain, what does he mean I won’t see him again?

  “I’m going home, I’ll see you in Bahrain,” he clarifies as his door opens.

  “Home to your flat?” I point at his apartment.

  “Home to Scotland.” He must think I’m a total idiot. I am a total idiot.

  “Oh, yeah, of course. Umm, no media, you’ll behave?”

  “Very unlikely,” he grins and then his door closes shut behind him and I’m alone in the hallway.