His Ultimate Prize(67)

'Maybe I want to put my needs ahead of Rafael's for once in my life.' He  threw his hands up in the air. 'What exactly do you want from me,  Sasha?'

She was unprepared for the question. But she had one of her own burning at the back of her mind.

'What do you want from me? What is the real reason you want me to stay  here? Am I here just so you can have sex on tap or is this something  more...?' She faltered to a halt, too afraid to voice the words  traipsing through her mind.

His eyes narrowed. 'I hardly think this is the time to be having a where is this relationship going? conversation.'

'Is there ever a right time? Besides, you don't do relationships, remember?'

He shrugged off his jacket and flung it onto a nearby chair. 'I want you here with me. Isn't that enough?' he rasped.

Another question she wasn't prepared for. Not because she didn't know  the answer. It was because she knew the answer was no. Wanting was no  longer enough. She was in love with Marco: with the boy whose heart had  been shredded by a heartless woman and the formidable man who'd loved  his unborn child so completely he'd closed his heart to any emotion.

She loved him. And it scared the hell out of her. The urge to retreat  stabbed through her. Marco's obvious reluctance to discuss their  relationship frightened her. But looking at him, his face haggard, his  hands clenched on the desk in front of him, she knew she couldn't leave.  Not just yet. Not when he was so worried about Rafael.

'I'll stay,' she said.

Naked relief reflected in his eyes. 'Gracias.' He pulled her into his  arms. 'Don't mention leaving again. Even the mere thought makes me want  to hurl something.'

She hated herself for the thrill of pleasure that surged through her.  'It was for your own good-even if you don't want to see it.' And not  just for Marco's sake. She had to find the strength to walk away.  Because the longer she stayed, the more she risked losing everything.

'If you want suggestions on what's good for me, I have several ideas-' He stopped and cursed when his phone started ringing.

'Before you start hurling things, I'll remove myself to the garage. Your '65 Chevelle Impala's chrome finish needs polishing.'

'It also has extra wide front seats, if I recall.'

Desire weakened her. 'Marco...'

'Fine. But before you go-'

He plastered his lips against hers and proceeded to show her just how foolish her decision to leave had been.

By the time Sasha stumbled from the study she knew her heart was in serious trouble.

* * *

Marco threw himself into his seat two days later and barely stopped himself from punching a hole in the wall behind him.

Even though she'd changed her mind about leaving, Marco had sensed a  withdrawal in Sasha he couldn't shake. It was almost as if Rafael's  impending emergence from his coma had put a strain between them.

But why? If there was nothing between them Sasha should be happy that  Rafael was recovering. Unless...? The thought that Sasha had feelings  for Rafael after all sent a wave of anger and jealousy through him.

No. He dismissed the thought.

She'd listened to him bare his soul, held him in her arms as he'd  relived Angelique's betrayal. Sasha had shed tears for him; he refused  to believe the raw pain he'd seen in her eyes wasn't real.

But he couldn't deny something was wrong.

Only when they made love, when he held her afterwards, did he feel he  had the real Sasha back. Even now, mere hours before she was due to  leave for London, she'd locked herself away in his garage, hell-bent on  restoring his vintage cars to even more pristine condition than they'd  originally been in. While he sat here, grappling with confusion and a  hunger so relentless he was surprised he didn't spontaneously combust  from want.

No. It was more than want. This craving for Sasha, whether she was  within arm's reach or he was in Barcelona, went beyond anything he'd  ever known. The few times he'd contemplated whether it would be better  if she wasn't at the villa at all he'd felt a wrench so deep it had  shaken him.

Angelique had never made him feel like this, even though at the time  he'd thought he would never yearn for another woman the way he'd yearned  for her.

What he felt for Sasha was different...deeper...purer...

Marco stiffened, the breath trapped in his chest as he tried to get to  grips with his feelings. But the more he tried to unravel the unfamiliar  feeling, the more chaotic and frantic it grew.

He glanced out of his study window towards his garage. The feeling that  she was slipping through his fingers wouldn't fade. But he couldn't deal  with it now. There were too many loose ends left to tie up.

As if on cue, his phone rang. With a muttered curse, he picked it up.

* * *

All the way to his suite Sasha forced herself to breathe. Despite the  cold lump of stone in her stomach, she needed to do this. She couldn't  continue to string things along any longer.

She entered the suite and heard the shower running. Without pausing, she crossed the room and slid open the door.                       
       
           



       

Water streamed off Marco's naked, powerful body. The need that slammed  through her threatened to weaken her resolve. It took several seconds  before she could speak.

'Marco, I...I've decided...I'm not coming back here after the next race.'

He whirled about, looked stricken for a moment, then his jaw clenched. 'I thought we had this conversation already.'

Even now, with the wrenching pain of losing him coursing through her,  she couldn't resist the intense pull of desire that watching the water  cascade over his body brought.

She steeled herself against it. 'I tried to talk. You laid down the law.'

He snapped a towel off the heated rack and stepped from the shower. 'You timed it perfectly, didn't you?'

'Excuse me?'

'Your exit strategy. At first I didn't want to believe it, but now it makes perfect sense.'

She frowned. 'Perfect sense... What are you talking about?'

'You can drop the pretence. I had a call twenty minutes ago. From Raven Blass.'

Her eyes widened in surprise. 'Raven? Why-?'

'She's in Barcelona. She wants to see Rafael. I gave the hospital  permission to let her see him, but funnily enough she was more worried  about how you would feel about her visit.'

'Marco-'

'Apparently you're very territorial about Rafael. She said something  about warning Rafael to stay away from her the day he crashed?'

'That wasn't how it was-'

He tied the towel around his trim waist. 'What was the plan? Use me as a  stopgap until Rafael was on his feet, then go back to him?'

'Of course not!'

'You started withdrawing from me the moment I told you Rafael was about  to wake up. Well, I'm glad to have been of service. But if you have any  designs on my brother, kill them now. He won't like soiled goods.'

She flinched and bit back her gasp. For a moment he appeared to regret his words, then his expression hardened again.

'Wow. Okay, I guess your mind's made up.'

'I mean it, Sasha. Come anywhere near Rafael and I'll crush you like a bug.'

Pain congealed into a crushing weight in her chest. 'I suspected this,  and I see I was right. Rafael will always come first with you-no matter  how much you protest about putting yourself first. I just hope you don't  have to give up something you really want one day.'

He frowned. 'There's nothing I want more than my family safe.'

'Well, that says it all, doesn't it?'

Whirling, she hurried from the room, cursing the stupid tears that welled up in her eyes.

In her room, she grabbed her suitcase and stuffed her belongings into it. She was snapping it shut when her door flew open.

'What are you doing?'

'Leaving. Obviously.'

'Your flight is not for another four hours.'

She picked her case off the bed. 'Oh? And what? You want one last shag for old times' sake?'

His eyes darkened in a familiar way even as his jaw clenched.

A stunned laugh escaped her. 'Let me get this straight. You want more  sex with me even though I'm "soiled goods" you wouldn't let your own  brother touch?'

Dull colour swam into his cheeks. 'Don't put it like that.'

'You know when I said you weren't an ass? I was stupendously wrong!  You're the biggest ass in the universe.' She stalked towards the door.

'Sasha-'

'And to think I fooled myself into thinking I was in love with you. You  don't deserve love. And you certainly don't deserve mine!'

Had she looked back as she sped through the door, pleased with herself  for not breaking down in front of him, she would have seen his stunned  face, his ashen pallor.

* * *

Sasha flew home to Kent after the Indian Grand Prix, one step closer to cementing the Constructors' Championship.

Returning home for the first time in months felt bittersweet. Glancing  round the familiar surroundings of the home she'd grown up in, she  wanted to burst into tears. Pictures of her father graced the mantel. A  wooden cabinet in the dining room held their trophies. They weren't as  numerous as Marco's, but she was proud of every single one of them.  Unlike Marco, who'd chosen to hide his away the way he'd chosen to close  off his heart...

But had he? He'd shown her that he would fight to the death to protect  his family. Didn't that prove it was her who wasn't worth fighting for?  The thought hurt more than she could bear.