Revved Read online

  “Yeah, well, I’ve been up since six. Feels like half the day’s gone already.”

  “You just left the gym?”

  “Yep.”

  “Your new trainer kicking your butt?”

  Carrick was complaining last night about his dad hiring a trainer for him while he’s here.

  Because he’s taller than the average driver, he naturally weighs more, so he has to be careful not to tip the scales.

  Carrick might win his races, but he likes to drink, and his diet isn’t exactly healthy. If he’s not careful, he’ll gain weight, putting him at a disadvantage on the tracks—hence, the new diet and training regime.

  “The guy is a fucking drill sergeant. I’m bloody starving as well. Muesli was what I was allowed to eat for breakfast. Fucking muesli,” he grumbles.

  “Poor baby,” I tease.

  That earns me a grunt.

  My phone alerts a text from Mum.

  Good night, darling.

  The time zones are really starting to mess with her.

  Chuckling to myself, I text her back.

  Mum, I’m ten hours ahead of you, so it’s nine thirty in the morning here. I’ll call you tonight, so it’ll be morning your time.

  She messages back straight away.

  I love you.

  ♥

  Then, I look up from my phone to see Carrick eyeing my bacon with what can only be described as longing.

  “You all right?” I laugh.

  “No, I’m dying of starvation.” He looks up at me. “Are you going to eat that bacon?”

  Our hotel is one of the only places in Kuala Lumpur that serves proper bacon. I was looking forward to eating it, and I kind of don’t want to share it with him. I’m greedy like that.

  Leaning back in my chair, I pick up my coffee cup. “Do you really think it’s a good idea for you to eat bacon? You’re on this health kick for a reason.”

  He lets out an exaggerated sigh. “Jesus, I’m not exactly overweight, am I?”

  He flexes the muscles in his arms, and I have to resist the urge to stroke them—or lick them.

  “And one piece of bacon isn’t gonna turn me into Jabba the fucking Hutt.”

  “I’m pretty sure when Lucas created him, it was just Jabba the Hutt. Not Jabba the fucking Hutt. And if your dad sees me giving you bacon, he’ll have my job.”

  “No, he won’t. Come on…just one piece of bacon.”

  “No.” I move my plate toward me and away from him.

  “Aw, come on, baby. You know you wanna give me some.”

  Baby?

  I feel that word wash through me like an erotic cleansing.

  Pressing my thighs and lips together, I shake my head. “Nope. Your smooth Irish charm won’t work on me.”

  Grinning, he gives me a look straight from the sex devil. “Aw, Andressa, baby, if you give me some…I’ll make it worth your while. It can be our little secret. I won’t tell anyone. I promise.”

  “How do you manage to make a conversation about bacon sound dirty?”

  “I’d say it’s a talent…but maybe it’s not me who’s dirty. Maybe it’s you. After all, you are the one interpreting it that way.” He lifts a brow.

  And my face goes bright red.

  His fingers creep over the table toward my plate. “So, am I getting that bacon?” He flutters his eyelashes at me.

  Bastard knows how good-looking he is.

  “Fine.” I give in. “One piece, and that’s your lot.”

  I pick up a piece of bacon and hand it to him.

  “Have I told you recently how awesome I think you are?”

  “Nope.”

  I watch as he puts it in his mouth, the way his eyes close on the taste.

  “Well, you are. So fucking awesome. God, that’s some good bacon.” He moans, chewing it.

  I start squirming in my seat at the sounds he’s making.

  Who knew a piece of bacon could be such a turn-on?

  I have a vision of me naked in bed with him above me, inside me, making those same noises—

  “Okay, I need more.” His voice breaks into my sex thoughts.

  “Hmm? What? Yeah.” I pass the plate over without even thinking.

  Then, a second later, I realize what I’ve done. “Wait! Give that back! You’re gonna get me in trouble!”

  I try to grab the plate, but Carrick scoops up all the bacon and shoves it in his mouth.

  “Oh my God! I can’t believe you just did that!” I slap my hand over my mouth, laughter escaping.

  “Never underestimate what a starving man is capable of,” he says, munching his way through his mouthful of bacon, a glint in his eyes.

  I can’t help but stare at him as he swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing, it’s oddly sexy.

  “God, that’s so much better. I feel like a normal fucking human being now.” He leans back in his seat, pressing a hand to his stomach.

  “You have issues,” I quip. “Do you want the rest of my breakfast?” I gesture to what’s left, my coffee and half-eaten toast.

  “Sorry.” He gives me a cheeky grin. “You want me to get you some more?”

  “Nah, don’t worry about it.” I wave him off.

  “So, what have you got planned for today?”

  “Nothing much. Probably just gonna laze around the pool.”

  “Even though the thought of you lying around in a bikini is awesome—”

  I cut him off, “Who said I’d be wearing a bikini?”

  “My imagination. Why? You going topless? Skinny-dipping?” His eyes spark like a struck match as he sits up straighter in his seat.

  “No, perv. I meant, I might be wearing a bathing suit for all you know.”

  “Way to take the fun out of it.” He pouts.

  Shaking my head, I laugh. “I’m your friend, remember? You don’t perv over your friends.”

  “Says who? As long as I’m not touching, I can do what I want up here.” He taps a finger on his head.

  “And if you want me to keep being your friend, then you’ll knock it off.” I give him a smug smile.

  “Fine, spoilsport.” He rolls his eyes. “So, instead of hanging by the pool in your old lady bathing suit, do you wanna come have some fun with me?”

  The previous part of our conversation and the cheeky glint in his eyes have me asking, “What kind of fun?”

  “The fun kind.”

  “The fun kind of fun?”

  “Exactly.” He tilts his head, his lips teasing a smile.

  It’s such a charming boyish smile that I find myself saying, “Okay, I’m in.”

  After breakfast, Carrick goes back to his room to get his wallet, and I pop back up to my room to grab some money. Carrick told me to put some trainers on, so I’ve got a feeling we’re going to be doing some kind of sports activity.

  Petra is still in bed, but she’s awake, sitting up and watching TV. “Hey, have I missed breakfast?” Her voice is all croaky.

  “Yeah, they stopped serving at half past nine, but I grabbed you these.” I hand over a muffin and banana.

  “Ah, you’re a star.” She pulls the wrapper off the muffin and starts nibbling on it. “So, what we doing today?”

  I sit on the edge of my bed and kick my flip-flops off. I’m pushing my feet into my trainers when I answer. “Oh, I’m going out with, er…Carrick.”

  That raises a brow. She knows Carrick and I get along well, and she hasn’t said anything, but I know what she thinks.

  “Just as friends,” I add.

  “Yeah, I got that.”

  “You did?”

  “Mmm.” She has another bite of muffin. “If you were going to shag, you would have done it by now. Carrick’s not one for messing around. It’s about time he learned how to be friends with a member of the opposite sex. I think it’s nice that you guys are friends.”

  “Yeah,” I say on a smile.

  “So, what are you both doing?”

  “I don’t actually know.” I get my
bag from down the side of my bed, checking my wallet is in it. “He won’t tell me, but apparently, it’s fun.”

  “Well, have fun having your fun.”

  Picking my sunglasses up from the dresser, I put them on my head and stop at the door. “Hmm. Do you want to come with us?” It’s not exclusive to him and me. I don’t think.

  “Nah, all I’m up for today is lounging by the pool.”

  “Catch you later.” I pull open the door.

  “We going out tonight?”

  “Definitely.”

  Leaving Petra, I head back to the elevator to meet Carrick in the lobby.

  He’s already waiting for me when I get there. His lips lift into a smile when he sees me. “Ready?”

  “Ready.”

  I follow him out through the hotel to the parking garage.

  Lifting his key, he unlocks the door to a sleek black Mercedes SLS AMG Roadster.

  “Nice,” I comment.

  “Loaner.” He shrugs. “The dealers like to give me cars when I’m here for races.”

  “Must be awesome being you.” I let out a little dreamy sigh as my fingers run over the shiny paintwork of the car.

  “It has its benefits.” He grins. “You wanna drive?” He holds up the key.

  I feel a frisson of excitement, and then my face drops. “I don’t know where we’re going.”

  “Ah, yeah, right. You can just drive back then.”

  That lifts my smile right up.

  I climb in the car, buckle in, and drop my sunglasses over my eyes. Carrick turns the engine on, the car filling with the sound of Clean Bandit’s “Real Love.” He puts his shades on and drives us out of the garage into the gorgeous sunny day.

  “You want to go karting?” I stare up at the sign above the entrance, my hands going to my hips.

  We’re standing outside the Sepang Kart Circuit, which is adjacent to the track he’ll be racing on in a few days.

  “Yep,” he says from beside me.

  “But you race for a living.”

  “So?”

  “Okay, so you want me to race against you, the previous karting and current Formula One champion of the world. Well, I guess at least I won’t feel too bad when I lose.”

  “If it makes you feel better, I’ll let you win.”

  “Ugh, a pity win? No, that’s even worse.” I nudge my shoulder into his, ignoring the pang of attraction I feel at the contact.

  He chuckles.

  “Actually, should you be doing this? What if you get hurt?” Disconcerted, I look at him.

  If he hurts himself and can’t race and Owen and Pierce find out I was with him, my head will be on the chopping block.

  He gives me an insulted look. “You know who you’re talking to, right? I’m Carrick Ryan, god of the tracks.”

  “Ha!” I laugh. “Should I bow at your feet, oh godly one?”

  “Not necessary, young grasshopper.”

  He pats me on the head with his hand, and I bat him away, causing him to laugh.

  Then, his face sobers. “But…what I do need from you is your silence.”

  “Silence?” I cock my head in confusion.

  “Mmhmm. My dad doesn’t know I’m here, for the prior mentioned reason, so to save me a month of earache from him about my irresponsible behavior, it’d be great if you kept this little karting thing a secret.”

  “Ah.” I fold my arms. “So, I’m your dirty little secret.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t go that far, but you can be my dirty secret if you want to be. You only have to say the word.”

  Tutting, I shake my head in mock disgust, which earns me a filthy sounding chuckle. I pretend not to feel it in every part of me.

  “So, what you’re actually asking is for me to keep this a secret from your dad, who coincidentally scares the crap out of me?” I say, diverting back to the original subject matter.

  “You’re scared of my dad? Why?” He looks surprised.

  “Because he dislikes me.”

  “He doesn’t dislike you.” He brushes me off.

  “He thinks I’m a distraction.”

  “A distraction for whom?”

  “You. And the rest of the guys, of course.”

  “Oh. Right. Well then, you’re the perfect person to keep my secret ’cause you’re scared of my dad, so you’ll never give me up to him.” He smirks as he starts walking toward the building.

  “Hey, now, hang on there. Because your dad scares the crap out of me is the exact reason that this is gonna cost you.”

  Stopping, he turns back. With his head tilted to the side, he gives me an assessing look. “Interesting. Go on.” He gestures his hand at me.

  “Well, if you do get your godly arse hurt here today”—that comment earns me an eye roll—“then I’m out of a job because your dad would have me fired quicker than I could say stop.”

  He stares at me for a long moment, the tip of his tongue pressed up against his teeth.

  He has a nice tongue. Can someone have a nice tongue?

  I bet it kisses well. Among other things.

  Now, I’m imagining me sucking on his tongue and then Carrick using his tongue on me and—

  For God’s sake, Andi. Sort yourself out.

  I snap myself out of my dirty daydream.

  “So, you’re bribing me for your silence?”

  I can’t get a read on his tone. He sounds too even, and now, I’m starting to worry that I might have said the wrong thing. Sure, I was joking, and he usually gets my humor, but he might not be getting it this time.

  “Sort of,” I falter.

  “Well, you either are, or you aren’t. Which is it, Andressa?”

  “Are...” I give a lame toothy grin.

  He stares at me for the longest moment. Then, I see a flicker of amused admiration in his eyes. “Blackmail. I’m impressed.” He grins as he puts his fist up and fist-bumps me.

  I let out the breath I was holding.

  “So, what’s this gonna cost me then?” He starts moving backward toward the door, so he’s still facing me.

  “Hmm.” Pressing my lips together, I tap my finger on them. “I don’t know.”

  “Sex? I can be your sex slave for a week. Hell, you don’t even have to blackmail me to get that. I’ll do it for free.”

  I shake my head, fighting a grin. “You’re a sex maniac.”

  “I’m not a maniac. I just love having sex. There’s a difference.”

  “Sure there is.”

  “Oh, Jesus. Please don’t tell me that you’re one of those people who doesn’t like having sex. Because if you don’t, then you’ve been doing it with the wrong people, and that means we definitely have to do it.”

  “Of course I like having sex!” Okay, I said that a little too loud.

  “Thank God.”

  “And you and I are definitely not doing it.”

  “Shame.”

  I roll my eyes. “Why are we talking about this again?”

  “Because sex is the most interesting thing in the world, and I’m awesome at it.”

  He stops in front of me, staring down into my eyes. I feel his gaze sizzling into me. I’m suddenly struggling to find my breath and the ability to move.

  Sexual energy is crackling between us. And I so want to act on it…find out if he is as good as he says he is.

  But I can’t.

  “No sex, buddy.” My voice comes out hoarse, so I clear it. “Just friends, remember?” I indicate between us.

  “Ah, right. Of course. I forgot myself for a minute there.” In reproof, he clicks his tongue against his teeth. “And we’re not just friends. We’re best friends, Amaro. Get it right.”

  “Sorry.” I hold my hands up in mock surrender.

  We start walking again.

  “So, come on then. Put me out of my misery. What’s my ransom?”

  “I haven’t decided yet. I think I’m gonna pocket this one and use it when I really need something.”

  “Well, make sure i
t’s something you really, really need ’cause you’ll only get away with bribing me once.” On a wink, he pulls the door open and gestures me through.

  We approach the ticket counter. I see the guy behind the counter looking at Carrick like he knows him, but he’s just not sure where from.

  I wonder how long it’ll take Ticket Counter Guy to figure it out.

  “What racing sessions do you have?” Carrick asks him.

  “We do a quick circuit, which lasts for up to fifteen minutes,” Ticket Counter Guy says in really good English. “Or you can hire for longer if you want.”

  Carrick looks at me. “What are you up for?”

  “You choose. I don’t mind.”

  “We’ll hire for fifteen minutes. But we can add more later if we want?”

  “Sure,” Ticket Counter Guy says. “Just tell the marshal, and you can pay for the extra before you leave.”

  He prints off our tickets while Carrick and I argue over who’s paying.

  “Seriously, you’re not paying, Andressa.”

  “Come on. You pay for everything. Even when we go out drinking, you’re always paying for everyone’s drinks.”

  “How much did you earn last year?”

  I’m taken aback. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

  He leans in close to my ear. The feel of his body millimeters from mine sends me spiraling.

  “You know how much I earned? Twenty million. I’m paying for the fucking tickets.”

  I lean back, meeting his eyes. “Okay,” I placate.

  I quickly look at Ticket Counter Guy, who’s definitely trying to pretend he’s not listening.

  With a winner’s smile, Carrick hands over his credit card to Ticket Counter Guy.

  When we’ve paid, Ticket Counter Guy tells us we need to give our tickets to the karting marshal.

  We’re just about to head in when Ticket Counter Guy says, “You’re…Carrick Ryan, right?”

  I see the dismay flash through Carrick’s eyes. It was silly to think Carrick could come here and not be recognized.

  Carrick steps back to the counter. “Yeah…but I’m just here to have some fun with my friend. So, I’m not here, okay?”

  “Okay,” Ticket Counter Guy says. “But can I get your autograph?”