“What?” he asks in confusion.
I toss my phone onto the sofa and wrap my arms around him, feeling his back muscles through the thin fabric of his T-shirt. “My dad likes you,” I say happily. “Mitch is glad you’re the man I’m seeing.”
“And why is that so funny, Owl?”
“Because you looked more nervous while I talked to him than I’ve ever seen you look on the track.”
Caleb places his hands on my hips. “Owl. I’m never nervous when I’m in the car. If you’re nervous, you’re dead.”
A sick feeling rips through me, and I shiver. Caleb feels it, because his eyes widen in surprise.
“Hey, hey, don’t look at me like that,” he pleads. “I’ve wrecked my car—you’ve seen it—and I’ve had it catch onfirewhilst I was in it. Part of the sport.” He gently holds my chin with one of his hands. “And I’ve walked away every single time.”
“I know,” I say. “But I can’t even think about that possibility, Caleb. I—”
“Then don’t,” he interrupts, his voice firm. “I’m not trying to sound like an arse, but I’m bloody good at my job. I believe I’m third in the Drivers’ Championship standings. Only Xavier and Mason are ahead of me, you know.” Then he scowls. “Twats that they are.”
I can’t help but smile at that. “I know.”
“That they’re twats?”
I giggle. “No. That you’re an excellent driver.”
“All right. So check that worry, then, okay?”
“I’m always going to worry when you’re in that car.”
A playful smile tugs on the corners of his mouth. “I’d think it would be more productive for you to think about how hot I look in the car. And all the things you want to do to me as soon as you get me out of my race suit.”
“You’re impossible.”
“I know. But you’re thinking about tearing me out of it, aren’t you?”
As that image comes to mind, I allow my thoughts to shift from the scary reality of being an F1 driver to how good he looks in his black-and-white suit. And I decide this is what I want to think about. I want to think about Caleb and how I feel about him. No more talk of what our relationship will bring. I can deal with all of those thoughts tomorrow.
But at this moment? I want to feel.
I grab the hem of his T-shirt and jerk it up. “I want you.”
Caleb quickly takes his shirt off and casts it aside. Before I can even lift my hand to run it over his pec muscles, his mouth crashes down upon mine. His lips are hard and demanding, and my tongue instantly tangles with his as his hands move underneath my shirt. As soon as I feel his warm, rough hands on my body, all I want is more of him. We begin undressing, frantically tearing our clothing off each other and leaving a trail of it behind as we kiss our way back into the bedroom. Caleb playfully scoops me up and throws me onto the king-sized bed, and I dissolve into giggles.
“Now you’re mine,” he says, taking a condom out of his wallet and tossing it next to me.
“Only if you can catch me,” I tease.
I begin to scramble off the bed, but in seconds, he’s got me by the waist. I’m laughing as he pins me to the mattress, his body weight on mine. “Really, Owl? You wondered if an F1 driver could catch you?”
“Just because your car is fast doesn’t mean you are,” I retort.
He pushes himself up on his elbows, gazing down at me through his fringe of long black lashes with a wonderful, playful, sexy look in his eyes. “Oh, I’m fast,” he says, dipping his head closer to my mouth. “But right now? I preferslow.”
Then he kisses me deeply. I feel everything about the moment. From the slow, sensual movements of his tongue to the way one of his hands is reverently stroking my abdomen.
“Isla?” he whispers, lifting his head up.
I slide my hands up over his sculpted shoulders, gliding over his perfect ivory skin and beautiful muscles. “Yeah?”
“I feel like you were made for me,” he says, his voice rough.