LILY

Inside the suite I slip off my shoes, rinse my mouth out with mouthwash, and brush my hair. Or maybe I should keep the shoes on. They're strappy and black, and about four inches high. Super sexy. Nah, my feet feel much better without them.

It's been all of five minutes and there's a soft knock at the door.

I all but dash to the door and fling it open. Max tumbles in, reaching for me. We're both laughing as we kiss. When our teeth clash, we break apart, grinning.

"What are you laughing about?" I say while he gently bites my chin.

"I'm happy. That's all. Happier than I've been in a long time. Why are you laughing?"

I wrap my arms around him and we hug tight. "Someone in the elevator called you proficient."

He pulls back and looks at me with a mock shocked face. "I am very proficient on the track."

I shake my head. "I know you are, silly. But I was thinking about you being proficient in other things."

He reaches for me and trails kisses on my neck, making me whimper aloud. "You question my proficiency in bed?"

"I'm aware you are quite proficient there, as well," I tease, going to unbutton his shirt. "But I do remember when you used to strum my clit like you were toggling a Nintendo console button."

He tips his head back and chortles. "Oh God, I did, didn't I?"

I undo a second button and lean up to kiss him. "You did."

"But you taught me exactly what to do."

I snicker triumphantly.

"And I'd like to think I've picked up a few tricks—" his voice stops abruptly and his expression falls. I cease unbuttoning his shirt. "Sorry."

"What?" I look into his eyes, which are filled with regret.

"That was a shitty thing to say, I shouldn't talk about that with you. My past. Or the time between when we were together and now."

I take his hand and lead him to the sofa, pulling him to sit next to me. "I'm not jealous."

"You're not?"

I tilt my head. "I mean, I don't like to think about you being with another woman. Or women. But I also knew it was going to happen, and I understand. Temptation is difficult to avoid in this sport. I'm not naturally a jealous person."

His nostrils flare. "But I am. I'm jealous of the men you've been with. I'd hear or read about you being with a guy and I'd get pissed. I'd be annoyed for days. Like when you were with that tech guy, the one with the bad hair. I saw you in Vanity Fair, while I was on a plane."

Which tech guy with the bad hair, there were so many, I almost say, but don't. For some reason, his reaction shocks me, and I open my eyes wide and blink.

"What? You never imagined I'd get jealous?"

I shook my head. "I didn't think you cared that much."

Didn't think you cared because when I broke it off, you let me go without a protest. You didn't try to get me back. Just nodded and drove the next race. Then you moved on to supermodels, actresses, and pop stars...

He licks his lips and looks at his hands, and for the first time since Miami, he looks like the younger guy I once knew. "We have a lot of time to make up for, Lily."

His words leave me breathless, astonished that he's capable of such depth of emotion — and all for me. My thoughts are filled with memories of us together, and I launch myself toward him, so I'm straddling his lap. He catches me easily, and we're devouring each other in seconds.

We kiss deeply, fumbling with clothing and buttons. He's trying to pull my dress over my head, while I'm tugging his shirt off his body. Somehow he gets tangled in a sleeve and we break from the frenzy of undressing and laugh.

This only ends up making us kiss more. When he's finally free from the sleeve, his hands reach around my back to fumble with my bra. He struggles to unhook it, which is kind of surprising. I figured he'd gotten quite good at that given all the women he'd slept with since we first met.

"I need help, baby," he pleads.

I oblige. The moment the bra comes undone, I slide it off, and toss it to the floor. He sucks in a breath at the sight of my naked breasts, then cradles them in his hands. The way he caresses them with the lightest touch, then digs his fingers into my flesh, proves he definitely wants to make up for lost time.

My hands are in his gloriously thick hair, tugging while I kiss. And his hands are around my waist, moving my body, no, grinding me over his erection. All I want is for us to be magically naked this second.

"Can we move somewhere more comfortable?" I ask as I fiddle with his belt buckle.

"Mmm-hmm." The question doesn't seem to register because he's caressing my hard nipples with his thumbs and staring at my breasts. His eyes have glazed over, like he's in a trance.

"God, I've always loved these. They're fucking perfect."

I finally undo his belt and the top button of his pants, then squirm out of his grip to stand up. "Bed?"

He launches himself to his feet and we kiss while standing, my bare breasts brushing against his fever-hot skin. We take a few steps and kiss. While he's pinning me against the wall, I unzip his fly, and by the time we get into the bedroom, we're both not wearing anything.

"Oh, crap. Don't let me forget." Just as we're about to fall into bed, he rushes out. I see him grab something out of his pants pocket and when he returns, he's brandishing a sleeve of condoms.

Those get tossed on the nightstand before he eases back onto the bed with a little groan. It's not a sexy sound, though.

"You okay?" I ask, ogling his muscular body.

"Yeah, I'm fine. It's an old injury. From that crash a couple seasons ago in Italy." His hand goes to his neck.

I sling a leg over his hips and straddle him, leaning down so I can kiss his mouth. Of course, I need to be careful because we're both naked and he doesn't have a condom and I'm so damned wet that if I move my hips just so, I could slide right down onto his erection.

"I remember seeing that crash. I spent an afternoon crying in my living room after watching that crash, wondering if you were okay."

His hands gently work their way into my hair, brushing it back from my face. "You did?"

I nod. "I did something I normally don't. I texted Anh during the race."

"You did?" He draws me closer into a kiss.

"She told me you were okay, but I was still upset."

He cradles my face in his hands and we stare at each other. It's almost too intense. And the light pouring in from the other room is a touch too bright, and I swallow away a lump in my throat.

"Max, what are we doing?" I whisper.

"Making love." He says it in a matter-of-fact tone and coming from him, it doesn't seem like a cheesy phrase.

He gently pushes me up so I'm sitting, actually hovering, over his erection, while his hands skim my skin. I move back, away from his touch, so I can run my fingers over his muscular chest, down his stomach, and lower.

I see the body I've loved for years, his tan skin smooth and taut from all his conditioning. His sculpted chest rises with each breath, his teeth bared in a feral, sensual grin.

My intent is to stroke and tease, but I'm distracted by a tattoo on his thigh.

"I saw this earlier but I didn't get a good look at it." I run my fingers over the tattoo. "I was too dickmatized."

He chuckles at my made-up-word and plays with my hair as I kiss his leg. I pull back and inspect the tattoo. It's an intricate design of a flower that snakes over the hard muscle of his thigh. My finger traces the riotous orange-red flower. It's almost the color of his first race car, and initially I think that's why he's chosen that design, and then I gasp.

"Max. This is a..."

"Lily flower. Yes. My Lily." His hands are still in my hair.

I look up at him, awareness sending goose bumps over my skin. "When did you get this? Where?"

"A few years ago. I was in Paris for a long weekend and met a tattoo artist at a party. I'd been thinking about it a while and told him, and he hooked me up."

The tattoo is gorgeous, one of the nicest I've seen. It was obviously done by a talented artist from the looks of its bright colors and layers of shading. That he would tattoo the flower I'm named after on his body, sit for probably hours and endure such pain, astounds me. I explore it with my fingers, skimming every inch of his thigh. It's a large tattoo, and takes up almost his entire upper thigh from stem to petal.

"It's a reminder of you." His voice is solemn.

I sit up, allowing this information to sink in. His hands cup my breasts, sending a shiver through me.

"Why did you... why?" I finally stammer.

"Because I've never stopped thinking of you. I wanted you to be with me always."

Now I'm totally at a loss for words. All I can do is melt into him, dissolve into his kiss.

He flips me over and cages me with his arms. I shiver pleasurably as he kisses his way from one breast to the next, taking time to gently bite and nibble. He knows exactly how to tease me, precisely how to get me hot. My skin breaks out in goosebumps, the feeling is so intense. My thighs are shaking, my hands are trembling. I grip the duvet hard and ball up my fists, craving the release but also wanting this moment to last forever.

By the time he's kissed his way to my stomach, I've already opened my legs for him, and he groans when he skims his fingers between my legs.

This time, it's a sexy sound. "So wet," he mutters, stroking me, then saying something in German.

I feel like I'm dissolving into the bed as he kisses his way to where his fingers are. His tongue, soft and warm and wet, glides across my folds, parting them, exposing my entrance. I want to push all my thoughts and doubts about this situation far away. I'm not the team owner, he's not the driver. We're just two people with incredible chemistry and a complicated past.

I bite my bottom lip and smile, remembering how I used to tell him to trace the alphabet down there. with his tongue. His tongue on me again feels like a brush of ink across a white page, like a new beginning or an ending.

Like fate.

Now he's not just tracing letters, but an entire book. Damn. Max has gotten amazing at this. Not that he wasn't pretty wonderful before, but now he's...my thoughts disappear as I allow myself to surrender to him.

"Wow. Oh, wow," I blurt. My moans carry with them full-body shivers as his tongue laps at me and hits every sensitive area.

"It feels good?" he asks, in between swipes of his tongue.

"Um. Yeah. It does. So good." I can barely gasp the words out because he's taking me to the brink of orgasm just with his tongue. When we were together before, this was what he'd do to get me wet, then finish with his fingers.

"You seem really close," he says, replacing his tongue with his thumb, circling and tantalizing.

"Please. Your mouth. I need your mouth down there," I manage to say.

"Oh, you really liked that, didn't you? Such a good girl, getting so wet for me."

My fingers find his hair and tug as he pulls me right to the edge, then pushes me over. I cry out as I come, squeezing my eyes shut and gasping as I feel like I'm exploding into a million pieces. And when he takes his tongue off my clit he moves up my body, kissing the way he came — while touching me gently with his fingers.

This makes me have wave after wave of orgasm, and my mouth opens in a silent scream. The only noise I hear is my own breath, then an anguished final cry as I come. Holy crap, Max is amazing. He was great when we first met, but now, his skills in bed are incredible.

___

I hope that slow burn was worth the wait!