Revived (Revved Series Book 2) (23 page)

“He had a great time.”

“He did. Told me all about your dinner date with Leandro.”

“Hardly a date. Jett was with us. Speaking of, where is he?”

“In his room, on the phone. I think it’s with a girl.”

“What? He has a girlfriend?” I sit up straighter.

Kit shrugs. “He hasn’t said, but I’m sensing all the trademarks of a budding romance.”

“What trademarks?”

“He’s been talking about one girl in particular a lot lately—Anna.”

“How do I miss this stuff?” I face-plant the table, feeling like the worst mother in the world.

“You don’t miss anything. You’re his mother. He’s not going to talk about girls with you.”

“I guess,” I utter, my words muffled by the table.

“So, what’s going on with you and Silva then?” Kit asks.

I lift my head and shrug. “Honestly, I don’t know. We haven’t seen or spoken to one another in seven months.”

Kit knows all about the night—not the gritty details, of course. Just that we slept together, and then I kicked him out.

“Then, he’s there, waiting for us after we get out of the Formula One talk thingy. Invites us to dinner. Kisses me in the elevator. Tells me it isn’t over. Has breakfast with us the next morning, like nothing happened, and then…nada.”

“Hang on. Back up. He kissed you?”

“Yep.” I take a large swig of wine. “Jett was messing around, getting ready, and I went down to meet Leandro, so we wouldn’t be late. He was in the elevator, and I got in. He kissed me, like toe-curling-rip-our-clothes-off kiss. Then, I stopped it because we were in an elevator, and I didn’t want Jett to wonder where we were. Then, Leandro said, and I quote, ‘This isn’t over, not by a fucking long shot. I intend to finish that kiss.’ Then, nothing since.”

Kit is looking at me with a grimace. “That was way too much information for me to hear about my sister.”

“Sorry.” I wince, knowing how much I get grossed out hearing about his love life.

“So, Silva hasn’t made a move since then?”

“Nope.”

“He’s waiting you out.”

“Huh?”

“The last time you guys were together, before this kiss, you pushed him away and stayed away for seven months. He’s the one who initiated contact with you via the Prix tickets. Then, he kissed you again. He’s waiting for you to make the next move. He wants to know that it’s not all one-sided.”

I ponder that for a minute with another mouthful of wine. “You really think so?”

“Yep. Look, do you love this guy?”

That catches me off guard.

Do I love Leandro?

I’ve thought about this a lot, more so these last few days, and I’m pretty sure I do. Only…saying it aloud will make it real. And really, if I’m going to admit it to anyone, it should be Leandro.

Lifting my shoulders, I shrug.

“I’ll take that as a yes. Look, I haven’t seen you this way about anyone—ever. And I get your hang-ups, Indy, and I wouldn’t say to do anything that would jeopardize your career. You know that. But I think you’re safe here. It’s been seven months since you last treated him. You’re clearly in love with this guy. I want you to be happy. You haven’t been happy for seven months. Since he came back into your life, you’ve been happy.”

“I have been happy.”

“Bullshit. Sure, you’re happy when you’re with Jett and me. But there’s something missing for you, and that something is clearly him. On that note, after just sounding like a fucking advice columnist, I’m going to go get my man card back. I’m going to drink beer and watch the racing highlights, seeing as though I didn’t get to watch it at Silverstone,” he says pointedly.

I stick my tongue out at him.

Thirty years old, and my brother can still reduce me to a teenager.

He stands, not before taking another swig from my wine bottle.

“Kit…” I stop him with my words. “What do you think I should do?”

“I think you should man the fuck up and talk to him. Tell him how you feel.”

“You mean, woman up,” I call after him.

I hear his resounding chuckle. “Just go fucking see him, Indy. I’ll stay home with Jett.”

I stare down into my wine, thinking over Kit’s words.

Seeing Leandro again this weekend, spending time with him…kissing him, I know that I can’t go without him anymore. I can’t spend another seven months without seeing him.

I can’t go another day.

I need to see him now.

“
FOR FUCK’S SAKE
,” I growl at the sound of the doorbell.

If it’s Carrick coming to gloat about his win, then he can fuck off.

I was just about to call India. I didn’t get a chance to see her at the track after the race. I had press obligations, and then I got pulled into a meeting, so my bosses could complain about me coming in third and figure out why I had lost.

I am pissed that I lost.

But I know why I did.

It had nothing to do with the car. It was running perfectly.

It was because of India. I was distracted with thoughts of her.

With India in my head for the past seven months, missing her was a distraction in itself, but it was a hell of a lot easier to find my focus when she wasn’t near me. Having her at Silverstone, knowing she was watching me race, seeing her again, breathing in her smell, tasting her…

Jesus that kiss.

I had forgotten how amazing she tasted, how she felt against my body, and in my hands.

I haven’t been able to stop thinking about that damn kiss. I am pretty sure I’ve spent the whole weekend hard.

I could barely concentrate enough to race.

I have been dreaming about being back inside her for seven months, and I really need to finish what I started. Hence, the reason I was going to call her. I had considered stopping by her place on my way home but decided against it. I thought I would come home and call her instead. Test the water and see where her mind is.

Sure, I want to fuck her again. But I want more with her. I don’t want to rush her and end up pushing her away again.

I consider ignoring the door, but then the bell goes again. Getting up from the sofa, I head for the front door. Without checking the peephole, I pull the door open.

The air leaves my lungs in a rush, and all my blood flows directly to my cock. “India.”

To say her being here is unexpected would be putting it mildly, but I am very fucking happy that she is.

“Hi.” She is nervously wringing her hands.

My eyes go to them and then back to her face. “Are you okay?”

“Yes. No. I’m not sure.”

“Is Jett okay?” I take a step closer to her.

Her blues blink at me in surprise, and then her gaze softens. “He’s fine. I just…I don’t know what I’m doing here.”

She shakes her head, her eyes meeting mine.

“Yes, you do. Tell me why you came here, India,” I urge softly.

“I’m starting to think this is our thing, turning up at each other’s houses and talking complete crap.” She shakily runs her hand through her hair, biting her lip.

I say nothing. I want her to tell me why she is here, and I hope to fucking God it is for the reason I think it is.

“I…” She bites her lip again, and it is beyond distracting. “I missed you. I deeply regret how things ended between us, but seeing you this weekend…the kiss in the elevator…I don’t want to go another seven months without seeing you again, and…telling you how I feel…about you.”

“And how do you feel?” My words are a whisper.

My heart is beating a mile a minute in my chest, but I don’t miss the look of fear in her eyes. It makes me worry that I’m going to lose her, that she is going to back out from telling me what she came here to say. India is always gun-shy, so I don’t hesitate to lay my feelings out for her.

“Because I know for sure how I feel about you.” I step forward, and my hand circles her wrist, pulling her to me. “I love you. I am so fucking in love with you that I am blind to anything else. Being without you these past seven months has been agony. I was pretty sure I was in love with you when I walked out of your house after we had sex, but seeing you this weekend, being with you again, I know for sure. I’m in deep, and I don’t want to get out. I want to get deeper in with you. I want you in my life…to be my life.”

“I…” Her lips part, the word breathing from her, her eyes filling with tears.

“Say it,” I gently coax.

She closes her eyes and then opens them, and I see all her feelings for me written there even if worry is etched into her features.

“I’m in love with you, Leandro. God, so much. I know it’s wrong, and I shouldn’t feel like this about an ex-patient, but I do and—”

I cut off the rest of her words with my lips.

“Nothing about this feels wrong,” I breathe against her mouth. “It couldn’t be more fucking right.”

Her arms come around my neck, fingers curling into my hair. “I love you,” she whispers.

Her words are like an aphrodisiac. My hands go straight to her ass, and I pick her up, loving the feel of her legs going around my waist. Bringing her into my house, I kick the door shut and carry her straight upstairs to my bedroom. We are kissing hungrily, and pulling at each other’s clothes as we move.

God, she tastes so fucking good.

I just need to get her in my bed and pliable under my hands, screaming out my name. Then, I will bury myself so deep inside her that she will feel me in every part of her body, and nothing else will matter.

I’m taking my time with her. No rushing this.

Reaching my bedroom, I walk through the open doorway. She drops her handbag to the floor, right before I lay her down on my bed. Then, I just stand and stare at her, taking her in.

“What?” she says shyly.

“You are maddeningly beautiful, do you know that?”

She shakes her head, her cheeks flushing. I love how easily I can get to her.

I lean over her, taking her face in my hands. “Well, you are. You drive me to distraction.” I brush my mouth over hers. “I can’t think of anything but you.”

I kiss her once more, and then leaning back, I start to unbutton her shirt. When it’s open, I brush the fabric aside, revealing her bra to me.

Pink, silky, perfect.

I press a kiss to the top of her breast, and then I run my tongue to the dip in her cleavage. She grabs my head, a moan falling from her lips.

Rising up, I bring her with me. I remove her shirt and then my own before taking her bra off. Leaning in, I take her breast in my mouth, sucking on her nipple, and her hips jerk against me.

Kissing my way up her chest, I take her mouth with mine again. I am trying to go slow, take my time, but it is getting really fucking hard, and when I feel her hand press against my cock, through the fabric of my jeans, I nearly lose my shit.

Her jeans are off in seconds, and my own follow immediately after.

I fall onto her, and we’re in a tangle of limbs and lips. I can’t kiss or touch enough of her. It’s like sheer desperation, an addiction, needing more and more, not sure when I will hit the point of enough.

But, something tells me, with India, there will never be enough.

Pressing my hand to the mattress, I lift myself from her, allowing me to slide my hand down her stomach. My fingers skim the top of her panties.