Faster Dirtier (Take Me...#5) (A Team Ferrelli Novel) (15 page)

“We agree then,” I smile, lacing my fingers through his,
“We’ll keep our little...
thing
just between us for now. Let the world get used to us being teammates first,
before we spring the whole ‘lovers’ things on them, too.”

“Now that you mention the whole ‘lovers’ thing,” Enzo
murmurs, pulling me swiftly onto his lap, “I don’t really think I’m in the mood
for a movie, after all.”

“No?” I smile, wrapping my arms around his shoulders. “And
what, exactly, are you in the mood for? Surely, we can think of some way to
pass this flight...”

“I have a few ideas,” he growls, kissing along the length of
my collarbone. “Tell me, Ace. Are you by any chance a member of the mile high
club?”

A pulse of longing thunders through my core. “I can’t say
that I am,” I whisper, shifting my weight so that my sex is pressed flush to
his. I feel him respond at once.

“Well, as a long-time member, how would you like me to initiate
you?” he smiles, grabbing onto my hips with his powerful hands.

“Quite the experienced gentleman, aren’t you?” I say softly,
insecurity tugging on the edges of my desire as I wonder how many women he’s
had on this jet before.

Enzo’s brow furrows slightly. “I’m sorry, Ace. I didn’t mean
to bum you out.”

“Hey, it’s OK,” I shrug, smiling through my twinge of
discomfort. “You’ve got, like, ten years on me, Professor. No wonder your
number is bigger than mine.”

“I oughta dock your grade for that one, kid,” he laughs,
tackling me back onto the wide seats. The bag of popcorn falls to the ground,
spilling everywhere. But there’s no way we’re pausing to clean it up now.
“Don’t worry, though. I know a way you can earn some extra credit.”

His hands roam all over my body as we soar through the sky.
My lingering questions about his romantic past—not to mention his romantic
present—are knocked away by the force of my need for him. We give ourselves over
to each other, right then and there, layers of clothing flying every which way.
I’m still deliciously sore from last night’s lovemaking spree, but that’s not
going to stop me now.

I’m wearing nothing but my tiny white camisole as I straddle
Enzo on the airplane seats, his cock unsheathed and hard as stone. His jeans
are down around his knees, his incredible chest bare, as I kneel above him, my
sex poised against his throbbing member.

“Wait a second,” he chuckles throatily, “I love a woman on
top, but right now...”

I gasp as he snatches me up and carries me into the aisle
between the two rows of seats. Enzo lowers me down onto the soft carpet,
lifting my tank top over my head. I’m lying stark naked beneath him, sprawled
across the floor of his very own private jet. Enzo kicks off his jeans, joining
me in utter nakedness before sinking down on top of me, his massive cock
driving into my wet, eager pussy.

It’s a good thing we’re 30,000 feet in the air. Because I’m
sure if we were any closer to the earth, the entire world would be able to hear
my screams of delight as Enzo and I work ourselves into a blissful frenzy. We
come together, enormously and
very
loudly, before a sated, sleepy haze takes hold of us.

“So,” I breathe, pulling myself onto an elbow. “Still in the
mood for an action flick?”

“You are my dream woman, Ainsley Vaughn,” Enzo laughs,
pulling me into a long, searing kiss.

I spend the rest of the flight trying (and failing) not to
read into that phrase he used.
His
dream woman
. I’m Enzo Lazio’s dream woman.

Chapter Fourteen

By the time we begin our descent into New York City, Enzo
and I have mostly recovered from our mid-air romp. We dress in a giddy daze and
gather our things for the week. I can’t wait to show him around my favorite
parts of the city, though of course he’s no stranger to the metropolis himself.
But even a place as iconic as New York can feel different when you’re with
someone you care about. Buzzing with excitement and more than a little
spaced-out, I trail Enzo out of the jet and into the airport proper. I’m
already planning out our entire stay in New York, totally in my own little
world as I imagine the possibilities.

That is, until the rest of the world comes crashing down
around us in the form of a thousand flash bulbs.

“What the hell?” I exclaim, recoiling from the dozens of
reporters that are lying in wait for us as we step out of the gate.

“Don’t worry,” Enzo says, moving protectively in front of
me. “They’re just hoping to snag a picture of the newest Team Ferrelli member.
It’s nothing personal.”

We move through the crowd of media types, and I try and tell
myself not to panic. This is something I’ll just have to get used to now. But
as the horde closes in around us, their voices rise to a hysterical din.

“Ainsley! Ainsley Vaughn!”

“Question! Question over here!”

“Enzo Lazio, a word for the press?”

“Ace! Is it true that you and Enzo are sleeping together?”

That last question rises above the rest, slams into my gut
like a sucker punch. I whirl around toward the source, searching through the
crowd of clamoring faces.

“Who said that?” I demand.

“Is it true?” asks another voice from the throng. “Are you
two an item?”

I feel Enzo’s body stiffen as the pointed questions come
hard and fast.

“Personally, I think it’s pretty sexist to assume that
there’s anything going on between Ace and myself, just because she’s a woman on
a team of men,” Enzo says, his chest puffing out defiantly. “If that’s the sort
of gossip you’re interested in printing—”

“It’s not gossip!” yet another voice jumps in. The countless
faces pressing in around us are starting to blur together as acidic dread
churns in my gut. “There were eyewitnesses who saw you two together in Rome,
checking out of a single hotel room!”

Enzo and I exchange a quick glance as the entire herd of
reporters goes wild. I can’t seem to get enough air into my lungs as Enzo and I
struggle to move forward, out of the mass of people. How could they possibly
know about Rome?

“There are pictures all over the internet,” someone shouts,
“Do you have a comment or what, you two?”

“Are you sleeping together? Dating? What’s the story?”

“How do you think this will affect Team Ferrelli’s
reputation, after the scandal with Siena Lazio and Harrison Davies a couple of
years ago?”

“That was no scandal,” Enzo shouts heatedly, “That was a
private matter between my sister and her now-husband that was exploited by
parasites like you for the sake of page views. I’d advise you not to start in
on this shit again.”

“Is that a threat Enzo?” someone shouts.

“Are you admitting that you and Ainsley are romantically
entangled, too?”

“Ace! Ace! How is he in the sack?”

“Does his equipment meet Team Ferrelli standards?”

“Who’s on top when you two go at it?”

Just as hot, humiliated tears spring into my eyes, Enzo
grabs me by the hand and pulls me clear of the cloying huddle of reporters. We
burst through the double doors of the airport and dive into the waiting
Ferrelli town car. Enzo slams the door behind us, and we’re free at last. At
least, we’re free from the assholes we just left behind. But I fear we’re far
from free when it comes to speculation from the rest of the world.

Enzo and I whip out our phones in unison and pull up our web
browsers, searching for evidence of a brewing scandal. A low groan rips out of
his throat as our search results load. I stare down at my screen in horror as
the hits roll in. Articles, comments, tweets, and statuses about Enzo Lazio and
Ainsley Vaughn’s affair blow up my screen.

“Goddammit,” Enzo roars, throwing his phone onto the floor
of the town car.

 “This can’t be happening,” I whisper, as a photo gallery of
me and Enzo loads on my screen. A so-called “Timeline of the Affair”, spanning
the whole week and change that we’ve even known each other. There are shots of
us at the Ferrelli party, with body language experts weighing in on how we’re
obviously boning, given the way we’re holding our arms. There are press
pictures of each of us individually, with speculation about the adorable babies
we’d make together. And there, at the end, are a few blurry cell phone pictures
of Enzo and I walking away from the hotel in Rome together. To my slight
relief, the photographer didn’t follow us into that alley. But my relief is
overridden by fury as I realize who must have taken these pictures.

“Nils,” I hiss, burying my face in my hands.

“That tow-headed motherfucker,” Enzo says through gritted
teeth. “That stupid, arrogant little
child
.”

“How could he do this?” I breathe, “Just because I didn’t
want to go on a date with him? What is this, high school?”

“This is bad, Ace,” Enzo says grimly. His jaw is set, his entire
face stony with barely-contained ire. “This is really bad.”

As we roll up to the hotel, I spot another crowd of
reporters waiting for us to arrive. Enzo squares his shoulders and kicks open
the door of the town car, storming through the crowd as I dash along, trying to
keep up. We duck into the hotel and are ushered upstairs at once. I barely even
register how stunning our accommodations are, especially our two-bedroom suite.
It must be bigger than the entire townhouse I share with Alec.

Thinking about my brother, and how disappointed he must be
right now, brings a swell of shame crashing down on me. I sink down onto the
couch in the suite’s living room, curling into a tiny ball as the tears finally
arrive. I weep bitterly, angry with myself for doing so. But I can’t help it.
This whole thing is too overwhelming, too embarrassing.

“Come here,” Enzo says, his voice hoarse, as he sits down
beside me and pulls me into his arms. “Just come here and let me hold you.”

“Isn’t that what got us into this mess?” I sob, launching
myself into his embrace all the same. “Letting you hold me?”

“I don’t give a shit about that,” he says, catching my face
in his hands and forcing me to look up at him. “We’re gonna get on top of this,
Ainsley. You have to believe me.”

“Why do they hate us so much,” I choke, “The media, all
those people on the internet, even Nils and his friends—?”

“It doesn’t matter what they think, Ace,” Enzo says, kissing
away the tears that spill onto my cheeks. But his kindness only makes me sob
harder.

“I’ve never once been ashamed of anything I’ve done with
man,” I weep, bracing myself against Enzo’s firm chest. “And I don’t want to
start now.”

Before Enzo can reply, his phone begins to ring. We can
practically hear the urgency in the ringtone itself. He pulls out the device
and glances down at the screen, sucking in a breath.

“It’s a video call. From Siena,” he says warily.

“You’d better answer it,” I say, wiping away my tears as
best I can. “We’re gonna have to talk it out with her sooner or later.”

Swallowing a sigh, Enzo sets the cell phone down on the
coffee table. He frames us both in the video screen and answers his sister’s
call.

“Hey Siena,” he says drily, resting his elbows on his knees.
“How’s
your
day
going?”

“Is it true?” she demands without preamble. Her voice is
hard, her face stoic and set. I’ve never seen her so upset.

“I have no idea what’s being said out there,” Enzo replies,
running a hand through his hair. “So I can’t—”

“Is it true that you two are sleeping together?” Siena cuts
him off, her dark eyes blazing. “Is it true you spent last night shacked up in
Rome and lied to me about it?”

For once, Enzo is speechless. He simply glances my way, and
lays a gentle hand on my knee. I can almost hear the steam pouring out of
Siena’s ears.

“That much is true, yeah,” Enzo allows. “And before you
start getting all righteous—”

“This has nothing to do with being righteous!” Siena fumes,
“This has everything to do with you not being honest with me. I expect this
kind of shit from you by now, Enzo, the sneaking off, the omission, the shady
behavior. But Ainsley...”

I have to blink away a fresh round of tears as Siena trains
her gaze on me. She doesn’t even look that mad, just terribly disappointed. And
that’s much, much worse.

“I’m sorry Siena,” I manage to say, “I should have just told
you where I was going. I was just...I thought—”

“You thought I would have tried to stop you?” she demands,
“You’re fucking right I would have! I know better than anyone that it’s
impossible to keep something like this from the press. I would have told you
that a good fuck with your teammate wasn’t worth ruining your entire racing
career.”

“What do you mean, ruining—?” I start.

“I just got off the phone with the owners of Team Ferrelli,”
Siena snaps, “They’re seriously considering cutting you from the roster,
Ainsley. They don’t want to deal with this kind of shit.”

“They can’t do that!” Enzo roars, “That’s discrimination.
Furthermore, that’s fucking bullshit. I’ll call them myself and tell them—”

“Not so fast brother,” Siena goes on solemnly, “They’re
thinking about cutting you too.”

A long, heavy moment of silence descends, threatening to
swallow us all. Enzo stares, unseeing, at his sister’s face on the screen. He’s
still as stone, his expression unreadable. With herculean effort, he manages to
wrench his jaw open long enough to speak.

“What?” he spits.

“You’ve been totally unreliable lately, Enzo,” Siena says
bluntly, “Disappearing whenever you want, never giving us any notice. And now
this—?”

“This team. Is my entire life,” he growls.

“I know that,” Siena says, clearly in agony.

“I won’t be cut from the team my father built from the
ground up,” Enzo continues, his voice rising to a low roar. “Do you hear me? I
will not let them do this.”

“They have to make up their own minds about it,” Siena
presses on.

“Fuck that. Fuck them!” Enzo says, springing to his feet. I
pull myself to the far end of the couch, suddenly afraid of his rippling
strength.

“You need to calm down,” Siena shouts, “Thrashing a hotel
room and flipping off the press isn’t going to help!”

“Oh, I’m going to do much more than that,” Enzo snarls,
snatching up the cell. He brings the device close to his face, staring his
sister straight in they eye.

“Don’t do anything rash, Enzo,” she cautions, “You need to be
careful—”

I shriek as Enzo hurls his cell phone at the wall, where it
shatters into a hundred little shards. He rampages on in a blind rage, flipping
over the coffee table, kicking in the glass lamp, punching violently at the
wall. I leap to my feet, running to put as much distance between us as
possible. Never could I have imagined that Enzo was capable of this kind of
destruction. He’s always had a temper, sure, but this...This is something else
entirely. It hits me with a sickening pang, that I’m actually afraid of him.

He finally comes to a halt, standing among the wreckage he
himself has caused. His cut chest is heaving, his every muscle straining with
exertion. His dark eyes are almost black, his teeth bared in a menacing
grimace. Gathering up all of my courage, I take a step forward, hand
outstretched toward him.

“Enzo?” I whisper, “Enzo, look at me...”

His face swings my way. For a moment, it honestly looks as
though he doesn’t recognize me. He draws in a deep, shuddering breath, lost in
frantic thought. Just as I take a second step forward, Enzo turns on his heel
and marches toward the door.

“Where are you going?” I ask frantically, running after him.

“I’m going to fix this,” he says gravely, not even bothering
to turn around.

“We need to talk about how we’re going to handle this,” I
insist, catching his elbow.

“No,” he bellows, wrenching his arm out of my grasp. “I know
what I’m going to do. What I have to do.”

“But what—?” I plead, as he yanks open the door.

“Just stay here,” he commands, looking back at me. There’s
so much pain in his eyes that I actually stagger backward. “Just stay here, and
let me go.” And just like that, he storms out of the room, slamming the door
behind him.

I stand in the middle of the hotel room. Confused,
humiliated, and totally alone. In a stupor, I fish my phone out of my pocket
and dial the only number I can think of.