The Virgin's Debt to Pay

Nessa came second in the next race. Not a win but very respectable all the same. Pete was ecstatic. As for Luc—his reaction, Nessa couldn’t figure out, because his expression was always so unreadable and he’d given nothing away when she’d seen him on the sidelines after she’d finished the race.

A few days had passed since the function and she’d hardly seen him. Apparently he’d been in Dublin for meetings, and he’d also visited Paris in the meantime.

Nessa told herself that she didn’t care, as she checked herself in the mirror of the VIP guests’ bathroom. She pulled at the cream lace pencil skirt she was wearing, feeling overdressed. It had a matching top. Pascal had told her she’d need to dress up for the press, so she’d brought some of the clothes that the stylist had left for her from the night of the function.

She’d pulled her hair back so it looked as sleek as possible and had it in a low bun at the back of her head, and she wore one of those ridiculous-looking fascinator hats, set to the side of her head. She sighed, hoping she looked presentable, and made her way to the VIP room to meet Pascal.

When she got to the plush suite, however, it was empty. There were some refreshments lined up on a table but Nessa ignored her growling stomach and helped herself to some water, not wanting to be caught with a bun in her mouth and crumbs all over her clothes.

The room had an enviable view of the track where races were still being run, but it was blocked off from the other suites, making it very private.

She heard the door open behind her and turned around to greet Pascal and whatever press he’d brought with him but it wasn’t Pascal. It was Luc, in his three-piece suit. Looking like the most uncivilised civilised man on the planet.

His dark gaze swept up and down and Nessa’s skin prickled with self-consciousness and awareness. ‘Pascal told me to dress appropriately for the press.’

‘You look very...appropriate,’ Luc said. Nessa heard the unmistakable turning of the lock in the door, and her heart-rate increased as Luc prowled into the room like a predator approaching his prey.

Nessa took a step back and said nervously, ‘Pascal and the press are going to be here any minute.’

Luc shook his head. ‘He’s keeping them busy elsewhere for a little while.’

Nessa felt confused. ‘Why did you lock us in here?’

Now he was in front of her and looked very tall. And fierce, and sexy. Her body was reacting in spite of her best intentions to try and remain immune to his appeal.

‘I locked us in here because I’m done denying myself where you’re concerned.’

Luc put his hand around the back of her head, and before she knew what was happening she could feel her carefully constructed bun being undone and her hair was falling down her back. The silly, frivolous hat ended up on the floor.

‘Luc, what are you doing?’ Why did she sound so breathy?

In a silent answer, he pulled her into his body, tipped her face up and kissed her. Nessa had no defence for this sensual ambush. Her whole body ignited as if it had just been waiting for his kiss and touch.

Luc was like a marauding warrior, leaving no space to think about what was happening. All she could do was feel. Succumb. She’d wanted to experience this again so much, and now that it was happening she never wanted it to stop.

Before she could control herself her arms were lifting to wrap around his neck and she was arching her body into his, straining to get closer. His hands moved up and down her back, tracing her waist, going under her top to find the bare skin between that and her skirt.

But, like a cool wind skating over her skin, reality intruded, and she mustered up every ounce of strength she had to pull free.

Nessa was breathing as if she’d just run a marathon. Luc’s eyes were burning and she belatedly noticed the stubble on his jaw. She could feel the burn on her skin like a mocking brand.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘What’s wrong?’ Nessa wrapped her arms around herself defensively. ‘You said this wouldn’t happen again.’

His face was stark. ‘I thought I could resist you, Nessa...but I can’t. This will burn up, but then it’ll fizzle out. It always does. Let me be the one to teach you how it can be, for as long as we want each other.’

She shivered inside. He’d already done a pretty good job of teaching her how it could be. There was something very illicitly enticing about the prospect of burning up with this man and then letting it fizzle out. But she had to be strong. She shook her head. ‘I don’t think this is a good idea.’

His jaw tightened. She spoke again before he could. ‘I’m not just some convenient plaything you can discard and pick up again when it suits you.’

‘Believe me,’ he growled, ‘there’s nothing convenient about how I feel about this, or you.’

Nessa smarted. ‘Well, I’m sure there are plenty of women who would be far more convenient than me.’

He shook his head and closed the distance between them, reaching out to cup her jaw, a thumb moving against her skin hypnotically.

‘The problem is that I don’t want any other woman. I only want you.’