Breathless In Love (The Maverick Billionaires #1)(12)

Forgotten so easily that it terrified her.

“You okay?” he asked. His breathing wasn’t so steady, either, but that was no consolation.

“I need a minute, just a minute.”

But the truth was that she needed way more than that, needed to find a way to clear her head, her body, of everything Will had just done to her with only one hot kiss.

“I got carried away.” There was a raw huskiness in his voice, and the moonlight was bright enough that she could see the pulse beating hard and fast at his throat. “Forgive me, Harper.”

But Will didn’t need to be forgiven for anything. She was the one who had just lost her mind over his kiss, while making the extremely troubling discovery that nothing had ever given her as much pleasure as going fast with him just had.

Which was especially crazy given that caution was her watchword where men were concerned. Sure, she knew it was a world where people jumped into bed on first dates, but that wasn’t what she did. And not with someone like Will Franconi. Not with a fast man who owned a whole bunch of fast cars. If she were stupid enough to jump into his bed, she couldn’t also be stupid enough not to expect him to drive right on past her as soon as they were through.

“I’m the one who should be apologizing,” she told him. “I shouldn’t have kissed—”

He put a palm to her cheek and his thumb on her lips to halt the rest of her words. “Yes, you definitely should have.” Then he added, his mouth only a kiss away, “Your kiss was better than the richest caviar I’ve ever tasted. You taste better than anything I’ve ever tasted, Harper.”

She was stunned at how he simply seemed to accept that they’d gone too fast and pushed past her comfort zone, rather than being angry with her for slamming the brakes on a super hot kiss. A kiss that she had been the one to initiate.

Harper needed to make it clear to him that there wasn’t going to be another kiss between them, but the words wouldn’t come. “I should go,” was all she could manage. Although the truth was that it was probably all she needed to say, since she couldn’t imagine he’d want to see her again. Why would a gorgeous billionaire who could have anyone want a woman with whom he always had to try so hard? Even just to set up a date? “I don’t want to keep Trish out late.”

Will slowly backed off, his hands trailing down her arms, leaving thrill bumps in their wake. Holding her at the waist, he helped her down from the parapet, then took her hand in his and led her back across the grass to the hole in the fence. She walked on the balls of her feet so her heels wouldn’t sink into the grass.

Back in the car, she asked him to put the top up. “It’s getting cold.” She touched her hair. “And my hair is already enough of a mess.”

“Your hair is gorgeous.”

Of course he’d say that. He always had the perfect words. And it wasn’t truly her hair that worried her. She was afraid the speed would turn her into a wild thing again, and she might actually throw herself at him while he was driving.

Slow, steady, rational—that was what had worked for Harper and Jeremy for the past several years, and she couldn’t risk messing up anything for the two of them. Especially not with a man like Will, whom she sincerely doubted had the long haul on his mind.

It all made perfect sense in her head. Unfortunately, however, neither perfect sense nor the much slower ride back down the peninsula to her house did a darned thing to help quench her thirst for more of Will.





CHAPTER NINE


Other than a text saying how much he’d enjoyed their date, Will deliberately left Harper alone for a few days to think things through. She’d told him she wanted time. So he forced himself to give it to her, even though the need to hear her voice was like an ache inside him.

As for Jeremy, Will didn’t want her brother to think he’d been forgotten, so they’d talked cars over Skype a couple of times, and had emailed, as well. Will figured that Harper must be reading his emails because she’d said Jeremy sometimes needed help with the computer. He didn’t use big words, but everything was spelled correctly, as though Harper had made him run spell check before hitting Send. Will enjoyed Jeremy’s emails. He was always upbeat, always excited about whatever car picture or information Will sent him.

What a way to live, seeing only the good.

Needing to wait a few more minutes until midnight to make his call to Italy, Will spent the time thinking about Harper, a pastime that had become almost like breathing. She’d been perfect on their date, from beginning to end. She’d looked—and tasted—like a fantasy. He knew he could have pushed for more in the wake of their kiss, could have stripped her bare in the moonlight, could have tasted her soft skin everywhere and taken her straight to heaven. But despite how much he’d wanted to do just that, he’d also known it meant risking any ground he’d gained with her over dinner.

And even though they’d only just met, he wasn’t willing to chance losing Harper.

Instead, he wanted to know her—wanted to know what made her laugh, what made her sigh, what heated her up, and what cooled her down.

Sitting alone in his office, he had to fight the urge to call her. Three days, and he’d missed her like hell. He’d never called a woman just to hear her voice. Will enjoyed women, of course. But it had always seemed that one female was much the same as another.

Until a smile—and a kiss—from Harper had rocked his world.

Lord, he loved the way she’d practically dived on him, with no restraint, no hesitation. He knew her focus was on Jeremy and her job, and that her needs always came second to those. But for a few moments when she’d been in his arms, nothing had held her back.

At least, not until she’d realized how fast they were going, hitting the gas harder than any race car driver ever had. Will loved speed, lived for it, knew he needed the rush to keep his secret darkness from spiraling out of control again the way it had when he was a teenager. But though speed clearly called to Harper, too, she fought like hell against it. He understood her reasons in the wake of her brother’s and parents’ crashes, and yet he couldn’t help but want her to embrace the rush and the thrill again with him. The same way she’d embraced him for those few precious moments by the aqueduct—with nothing held back.

The truth was, however, that Harper wasn’t the only one who needed time. Will needed it, as well, to force himself to think through his own intentions from all angles.

He’d never romanced a woman before, never pursued one with unwavering focus. The press assumed it was because he was a player, and thankfully they’d never dug deeply into his reasons for keeping all of his relationships on the surface. He’d never let the women he’d been with before Harper get close enough to find out his real story, either.

But if he pursued Harper—if he romanced her, and also helped her tap into that secret well of wildness and passion that he believed ran deep and true inside of her, the way his every instinct demanded—how long would he be able to keep his past hidden? How fast would she leave him if she ever found out what he was really made of and the sins that tainted his soul?

He wished with everything he was that he could rewind the clock, back to that day with the Road Warriors when everything had spiraled so far out of control. But he couldn’t have a do-over. He hadn’t saved that kid. He hadn’t saved the Road Warriors.

And he sure as hell hadn’t saved his own soul.

Will couldn’t stand the thought of hurting Harper in any way. He would never forgive himself if he did. And yet, everything inside of him rebelled at the thought of letting her walk permanently out of his life. Somehow, he needed to find a way to get closer to her while still keeping her safe.

He’d walked a lot of fine lines in his life, but he had a feeling this one just might be the trickiest line of all. Not to mention the most important.

Will’s computer beeped. Midnight. Time for his call. He clicked it into life and a grizzled face appeared on the screen.

“Mr. Franconi, I hope you are having a pleasant evening. I received your email. And the attachments.”

Though he lived in Italy, Rupert Rivoli was French, and his lilting accent had turned to gravel with age and cigars. He could have been anywhere from fifty to eighty. His skin was slightly sallow and dark pouches bloomed beneath his eyes. But he was the best of the best. After getting his contact info from Daniel, Will had researched the man. Rupert had been a master craftsman at Maserati—a miracle worker.

Will had a miracle of his own he wanted the man to perform. “Can it be done, Rupert? Can you make me a Birdcage Maserati kit?”

“Of course it can be done, Mr. Franconi.” He sounded almost offended. “It is only a matter of money. And time.”

“Money is no object. And I’ll pay to have it as quickly as possible.”

“You understand I will have to coordinate my work with commissioning the engine, transmission, and other parts. It is not a small undertaking, Mr. Franconi.”

“That’s why I’ll pay you whatever you need to get it done. We can start with the chassis and sheet metal pieces. Then I’ll need to lay in all the wiring. You can take longer to get the engine and transmission. Tell your crew I’ll give a bonus for early delivery.”