I spend the next couple of days watching as Kit’s possessions start to take over my flat. The whole place, usually sleek and modern, is slowly filling with her things.

Seeing a pair of her floor lamps and a leather armchair tucked into the corner of the living room is the final straw. She can put all her shit in the spare bedrooms, pack them full of her junk if she wants.

But the living room was designed by a famous interior decorator, for fuck’s sake. It’s already perfect as it is, without Kit’s personal touches.

“Kit, for the love of god,” I say, pushing open her bedroom door.

She whirls, her hands coming up to cover her bare breasts. She’s in nothing but a pair of lacy panties, a nice little surprise for me.

“Rex, get out!” she screeches. “Don’t you fucking knock?”

“It’s my flat,” I say, leaning against the door frame and looking my fill.

Her tits are bigger than I remembered, overfilling her hands as she tries to cover herself. Damn, those legs are long and gorgeous too. She was beautiful in upper forms, but now Kit’s fucking devastating.

“Can you get out?” she growls. “Don’t just stand there staring at me like a fucking pervert.”

“I want to talk to you.” I smirk at her, loving the way she blushes all the way to her pretty blonde roots.

“Asshole.”

“Quit giving me ideas. I thought I was supposed to be the dirty talker,” I fire back.

She gives me this aggravated expression, and I can’t completely smother my grin.

“At least turn around,” she hisses.

I roll my eyes and turn around, the picture of reluctance. I hear her scrambling to pull on clothes, which only makes me grin harder.

“You need to get your stuff out of my living room,” I tell her.

“What? Why?” she huffs.

I turn my head and she’s got a t-shirt on. No bra, though; her tits bounce alluringly as she hops up and down to get her skintight jeans up her legs.

“Quit looking!” she says.

“I’m not the one hanging out naked,” I say, but she doesn’t rise to the bait.

“What’s wrong with my chair being in the living room?” she asks.

“You’re staying here temporarily, not nesting,” I say. “It doesn’t fit with the rest of the furniture.”

“Oh, am I ruining your barren bachelor pad?” she asks, throwing her hair into a pony tail. “Seriously, stop staring at my chest.”

“It’s not my fault that you’re bouncing around over there.”

Her angry growl just eggs me on, of course.

“Rex, I am not moving my stuff. There’s nowhere for it to go, and I need someplace to read other than here in bed. Deal with it.”

“What’s wrong with your bed?” I ask, moving a little closer. “Maybe we should test it out together, make sure it’s good enough for you.”

She gives me a wary expression, brushing past me, leaving behind the close quarters of her bedroom. I follow her, right on her heels just to annoy her further. I swear, she makes it way too easy to get her worked up.

Not worked up in the way I’d truly like, but more’s the pity.

“You are impossible,” she sighs. “Is there something else you wanted?”

“Yeah. I have to head into the office today. I thought you might want to come along, get out of the house.”

She pauses, turning to eye me with the most distrustful expression imaginable.

“Why?” she asks.

“Why would you want to get out of the house? I don’t want you getting cabin fever and trying to kill me in my sleep,” I say.

“No, why are you trying to do something nice,” she says.

“That stings. I’m always nice to you, Kit.”

Her answering glare says that Kit disagrees.

“Look, are you coming along or not?” I ask. “Your mum called and asked me not to let you hang around and mope, as she put it.”

“I am not moping. I’m working,” she says.

“I really couldn’t care less. Are you coming to the track or not?”

I can tell that mentioning the track has captured her interest.

“You work at a race track?” she asks, seeming curious despite herself.

“Seriously? Stop asking questions, come see for yourself.” I pause. “Maybe put a bra on first, though. Unless you want to give all the guys the thrill of their lives.”

“They must have pretty boring lives,” she says, heading back to her room. “Give me five minutes.”

True to form, she reappears a few minutes later, transformed. Though I personally liked her tight jeans and t-shirt, the filmy white sundress and red heels she’s donned take her to a whole new level.

I suppress a groan when she stalks up to me, her dress so short that I see another flash of garter. White this time, which for some reason does terrible things to me.

The innocence of the color, the boldness of the lingerie…

Grown-up Kit is way, way too tempting for her own good. Especially because, judging by her ex’s bland looks, she doesn’t seem to realize just how fucking hot she is.

Yep, I’m already hard, forced to sneakily adjust myself before she sees.

Worse than the garters or the miles of bare, toned legs is the way she looks at me. I’ve changed into formal garb too, dark dress slacks and white button-up.

Her eyes travel up and down my frame, her throat working for a moment as she swallows.

“You clean up nice,” she says.

For the barest moment, I see the same desire I feel reflected in her big gray eyes. Then it’s gone, and she’s gathering her purse.

“Let’s go,” I say, maybe more curt than I mean it to sound.

Her brow puckers as she frowns, but she just follows me to the car. I spend the whole elevator ride down to the car trying not to look at or think about her, or grabbing her by the waist and pressing her up against the glass wall.

Kissing her, pulling her dress up and exploring just what those garters lead to. I get a flash of memory, of the sexy little gasps she used to make when I’d touch her intimately, when my fingertips pushed aside her soaking panties…

Jesus, fuck. Stop it already. You need to get laid.

Only when I’m walking around to open the passenger door for her do I realize that I’m being weird. She’s surprised by the gesture, watching me intently, but I just usher her into the car.

You’re not on a fucking date, I remind myself.

I drive aggressively, keeping to my usual routine of stopping for coffee at my favorite place. When I pull up outside I don’t ask Kit what she wants, I just growl stay with the car and jump out.

When I return, wordlessly handing her a cafe americano to match my own, she narrows her gaze.

“Are you honestly so turned over about the damned chair?” she asks.

I blink.

“No, I’d forgotten,” I say.

“Why are you being such a prick, then?” she asks. She sounds more than a little hurt, which for some reason makes me even angrier.

I take a deep breath, sip my americano, then pull the car out onto the road.

“It’s not intentional. I have a lot on my mind,” I say.

Yeah, like fucking my would-be stepsister, mostly.

“How far out is the race track?” she asks.

I glance at her.

“Half an hour.”

“Can we just have a truce while we’re in the car together, then?”

I arch a brow, then shrug.

“Fine.”

She sips her drink and looks out the window. When she turns her hand, I see a small splash of ink on her inner wrist. A tiny heart.

“Is that a tattoo?” I ask, shocked. “Kit, what are you doing with a tattoo?”

She glances at it and shrugs.

“Why haven’t I seen it before?” I ask.

“I cover it up with makeup.”

“Let me see,” I demand.

When she turns her wrist up for me to examine it, I see that it’s actually a broken heart, split down the middle with a jagged line.

“What does it say, underneath?” I ask.

“Remember,” she says.

“Remember what?”

She slides me a look and bites her lip.

“Nothing,” she says, turning away from me again.

Suddenly I start to wonder about her life in the States, wonder if something important happened to her there. The first thing that flashes into my mind is, did she meet someone there? Not Charles, but someone she loved? Someone worth getting a tattoo for…

“When did you meet Charles?” I ask.

She glances at me, seeming unsettled by the change of topic.

“Um, pretty soon after I started university. Our first semester at Brown.”

“You had classes together?” I ask.

Another look from Kit.

“Yes.”

“And you started dating right away?” I ask.

If so, it would have only been a couple months after…

After she left me without so much as a word.

“No,” she sighs. “We were in the same study group, became friends. He was… nice to me.”

Her mouth dips at the corners, a bitter look on her face.

“You had trouble making friends or something?” I ask. “That’s not like you.”

When she looks at me, there is something in her eyes, some emotion I can’t quite name. Almost… blame? Anger? Sadness?

What the fuck happened to her over there?

“I wasn’t really myself, after… after my dad died.”

I stiffen. Of course. I’d nearly forgotten about her father’s scandal and suicide, but it would have been traumatic for Kit.

“I’m sorry,” I say.

She looks away.

“That’s why you left?” I ask, unable to help myself. “I admit, I wondered…”

She turns to me, her eyes bright with emotion, and I stop.

“I don’t want to talk about this,” she says. “Ever.”

If she wasn’t so close to tears, I would press her. I have so many questions left in my mind, the same ones that have hammered around in my skull since I woke up one day and she was simply… gone.

Does she have any idea that her absence ripped a hole in my life, sent me into a downward spiral that didn’t end until someone else was dead?

Not that Asher’s crash was her fault. It was squarely mine, but my descent into that madness began the moment I found her absent from my bed, and then my entire life.

“I’m more curious about Charles,” I lie, shifting the topic. “What did he show you the other night, back at the club?”

Kit’s whole body tenses.

“I don’t know what you mean,” she blurts out.

She’s still a terrible liar. At least that much hasn’t changed, I think.

“Kit. He held a photo or a paper or something up in front of your face, and then you slugged him,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Clearly there was something going on there.”

“I was drunk,” she says. “He was being a jerk. That’s all.”

She sips her drink, and I decide to let it drop. Roles have reversed, and now she’s the one being uncommunicative.

We ride the rest of the way in silence, giving my thoughts time to churn and roll in my mind.

I don’t know what it is about the way she left, and the way she refuses to discuss the whole topic, but something about it is bothering me.

There’s more to it than her father’s death, I just can’t figure out what. It must be something truly terrible, for her to react like this.

And the way she keeps it secret, keeps the truth so close to her chest, it’s like it’s… shameful.

What the hell could it be, though?

In the distance, I can see the track, with the stands and the administrative building behind it. I’ll escape from my claustrophobic thoughts there, but it seems awfully far away.

I finally pull into the track’s lot and drive straight up to the pit, where several of the Formula One cars are being tuned up.

“Those look… dangerous,” Kit murmurs.

“Relax,” I tell her. “No one’s forcing you to race. Just… observe.”

We both climb out of the Aston Martin and I leave it there with the keys in the ignition, in case someone needs to move it. Everyone here is well-trusted, enough that I know my car won’t come to any harm.

The second that Kit steps into the pit, all four men working stop and stare at her. I get it. She has that effect on nearly everyone she meets.

Actually, seeing the way the guys are looking at her, I vaguely wish I’d told her to stay in her jeans and t-shirt.

Possessive, much?

“Rafael!” I call to the tall, dark-skinned mechanic standing closest. “What’s happening, man?”

“Alasdair,” he says, slinging his long dreads over one shoulder and brushing off his blue mechanic’s jumpsuit. We embrace, and he steps back to eye my suit.

“Meeting with the board of trustees today, no?” he asks. His thick French-inflected accent trips me up for a second, though we’ve known each other for years.

“Fucking enunciate, will you?” I joke.

“Yeah, okay, Your Highness,” he fires back. “Who’s the girl?”

I glance at Kit, who’s standing with her arms crossed, looking utterly out of place.

“Everyone,” I call to the group. “This is Lady Katherine. Kit, this is Rafael, Bernard, John, and Oliver.”

“Rafe, Burnout, Jack, and Ollie, to you,” Rafael says, grinning as he shakes Kit’s hand.

“It’s a pleasure,” she says, giving me a curious glance.

Finally, I get to be the mysterious one for once.

“Kitty here is grounded, so I’m babysitting her,” I tell the guys.

Kit snorts.

“Right,” she says, shaking her head.

“No one believes a word this guy says,” Ollie assures her.

I can’t miss the up-and-down glance she gives Ollie. He’s the dictionary definition of tall, dark, and handsome — if you can look past all the grease on his face and clothes.

It seems like Kit doesn’t mind a dirty guy, because she grins at Ollie’s jest like it’s the best thing anyone’s ever said. She’s not even trying to flirt, that’s just how Kit is.

“Any of the cars ready?” I ask Jack, the short ginger guy who works as our head mechanic. He shakes his head.

“Nah, we haven’t gassed them up yet. After your board meeting, yeah?”

“Alright. Can you all keep Lady Katherine occupied for a bit?” I ask.

Ollie’s eyes start to sparkle, and I hold up a hand.

“She’s already in enough trouble as it is, don’t make it worse, mate.”

Ollie laughs and shrugs, giving Kit a wink. She blushes, and I grit my teeth.

Why did I decide to bring her here again? This is what I get for being nice.

“Kit, for fuck’s sake. Go sit on the benches and stay out of their way,” I command.

The look she gives me is pure rebellion.

“I’m good,” she says with a smirk. She turns to Ollie. “Hey, will you show me one of the cars?”

I open my mouth to berate her, but Jack hits me in the chest with a pair of work gloves.

“Go to your meeting. She’ll be fine,” he says. “I’ll keep Ollie in check.”

“Go on, boss man,” Rafe cracks. “Keep the doors open and the lights on, yeah?”

I shake my head and leave her there, trotting over to the admin building. It’s a matter of minutes before I’m sitting in a huge conference room, feeling the heavy gazes of every single investor on the track’s board.

And they are not happy with me, not one bit.

Eliza Purcell stands up, straightening her crisp black pants suit. Her dark hair is loose around her shoulders, her blue eyes lined in dark kohl. She’s almost forty, but damn if she doesn’t look a decade younger.

She looks around at the other thirty people in the room, then zeroes in on me. I try not to squirm. She’s always been one of the most aggressive board members, but ever since we slept together a few times, she’s on my case every minute of the day.

Possibly because I tired of her and then just stopped calling her. Well, probably.

“Alasdair,” she says, giving me a long look. Like she’s a schoolteacher about to scold me in front of the class.

“Eliza,” I say, sliding my hands into my pockets so I don’t cross my arms and look defensive.

She blinks at me and then sighs.

“I thought we were crystal clear about our expectations here,” she says, shaking her head. “You sat in that very chair and swore up and down that if we made you the face of this project, you would be nothing but perfectly respectful.”

I cock my head.

“Yes,” is all I give her.

She starts walking, pacing the boardroom like she’s about to deliver one of the cross-examinations she’s become so famous for. Part lawyer, part vicious bulldog; that’s Eliza.

“And yet, you made quite the splash in the papers this week,” she says, circling the room like she’s stalking her prey.

Her arrogant pushiness would almost be sexy, if I weren’t the intended target this time.

“For saving someone, yes,” I point out.

Eliza pauses and narrows those eyes at me, tapping her lips with a crimson-tipped nail.

“I don’t think we made any exceptions, Alasdair. You came to us, asked us to trust you, invest with you.” When I open my mouth, she holds up her hand to stop me. “Don’t interrupt. You said you wanted to build a track, bring in revenue, and donate half the proceeds. You started all of this, begged, borrowed, and stole to get it off the ground. Yet here you are, defying the biggest of the very few rules we set down for you.”

Now she picks up the tabloid from the conference table, tossing it down before me like a gauntlet.

I can’t help it; I cross my arms and scowl at her.

“Yes or no, Alasdair. Did you break the rules?”

I can see precisely why Eliza’s so fucking effective in court.

“Yes.”

“All right, then.” She gives me a smile that’s mostly bared teeth. “I think it would be very interesting to have a confidence vote. Who thinks you should remain our CEO, who thinks you’ve already lied, that you will only continue to hurt us.”

I want more than anything to tell the board that she’s making this personal, that this is a vendetta. But of course telling the board that I fucked her will only make me look worse.

And besides, she’s right. I did break one of the rules to which I wholeheartedly agreed.

“Let’s do it, then,” I say, keeping my voice cool and level.

Her brows arch in surprise, and she’s quick enough to backpedal.

“What do you think, everyone? Does Alasdair escape the axe this time?” she says to the group.

I sigh and look around. Several people are looking at me with annoyed expressions, but I think more of them seem annoyed with Eliza’s dramatics.

“Can we wrap this up?” I ask Eliza.

“Are we impeding your social life, Alasdair?” she snaps, then stops. She clears her throat and gives me another hard smile. “Heaven forbid we stop you from running out and doing this again.”

I stand.

“Does anyone have anything to add here?” I ask the room. “Any other issues with the way I’ve led this board? Or the fact that I’ve already nearly repaid your investments in full, though it’s been only a year?”

Silence.

“Anyone upset that we’ve raised nearly a million for low-income victims of pedestrian hit-and-runs? Anyone going to repossess those hundred thousand pounds to the children’s cancer ward at St. Victor’s?”

Everyone stares at me, but I can see the acceptance on their faces. I’ve won this round… for now.

“Right, then. Eliza, always a pleasure,” I say, making it clear as day that I feel the opposite. “Board members, thank you very much for your time.”

I stride out of the room, managing to keep my anger in check until I’m alone in the elevator. Only then do I release an angry growl and slam my fist against the metal wall, the simmering anger coming to a boil.

I jog back to the track. At first, my only desire is to get the fuck out of here, head home and drown my sorrows in some expensive Scotch.

But then I see the cars lined up, the sun glinting off of them in a way that seems infinitely promising. And of course there’s Kit, standing next to Ollie, laughing and putting her hand on his arm.

My rage boils over.

“Is this one ready?” I ask Jack.

“Yeah, but—” he tries.

I shake my head. Grabbing a helmet, I cram in down onto my head and jump into the car. Pulling out of the pit in a cloud of burning rubber, I grin as adrenaline begins to flood my veins.

This. I’ve missed this.

I take the car around three times, pedal to the metal, screaming around each turn. It’s the best I’ve felt in ages, maybe since before Asher.

And I know how I’m going to make it even better.

I pull the car in and jump out, tossing the helmet to Ollie.

“Come with me,” I tell Kit.

“Err—”

I don’t wait for her assent. I grab her by the wrist and tow her through the garage behind the pit, taking her out the back exit. It leads out into a wooded area where we store big stacks of tires, and it’s secluded enough for my intentions.

“Rex, what are you doing?” Kit asks, flustered.

I back her up against the corrugated tin wall of the garage, step by step.

“I think you should tell me what Charles said the other night. What set you off?”

Yeah, I’m curious about it. But mostly I know she’s going to be defiant, and that will give me leeway to get in her face.

The idea of manhandling Kit is very, very appealing right now.

“I— none of your business!” she says, going a little breathless when I place my arms on either side of her body and cage her up against the wall.

“Really?” I ask, dropping my voice to a quiet husk. I move my lips close to her ear. “I think it might be. Tell me what I want to know, Kitten.”

“Don’t call me that!” she says, but I can hear the hitch in her breath when my lips brush her cheek. “I— I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You are such a poor liar, sweetheart,” I say. I let one of my hands drop from the wall, skimming my knuckles against the outside of her breast with the lightest of touches.

She sucks in a breath.

“No,” she whispers.

“Let’s practice your lying skills, then,” I say, brushing my lips over her ear, enjoying her shiver. “Say, ‘I don’t want you to fuck me, Rex’. Can you do that?”

“I— I don’t!” she says, biting her lower lip.

“You don’t what, darling? Tell me.”

She looks up at me, eyes stormy.

“I don’t want you,” she says.

“Come on, Kitty. You can do better than that.”

“I don’t want you to fuck me, Rex,” she hisses.

Now I’ve got her nice and angry. Good, time to tease her in a different way.

I lower my hand to her bare thigh, trail my fingertips up and up. She squirms, which I fucking love. I hook her garter with a fingertip, then snap it.

“Have I told you that I love these?” I whisper in to her ear. “I find these garters very promising, sweetheart.”

“I’m not your—” she starts, then loses her train of thought.

Mostly because I’m running my fingertips over her hip, lightly tugging at her skimpy panties. I kiss the corner of her mouth and her lips part; she’s eating this up, every bit of it.

“Are you trying to say you aren’t wet for me right now, Kitten?” I challenge.

“I’m not,” she says, her voice gone to gravel.

“You’re not tight and hot and aching for me?” I ask, exploring the front of her panties, sweeping a lone fingertip down, down…

“Mmmm,” she whimpers.

“Are you sure, sweetheart? You aren’t picturing me, thinking how good it would feel if I kissed those lovely breasts, wishing I would stop teasing and just touch you… here?”

I use my knuckle to rub a gentle circle against her panties, right over her clit. Her hands are on my shoulders, her nails biting into my skin through my shirt.

“N-no,” she says, shaking her head a little bit.

I almost want to laugh at her sex-dazed expression.

“‘I don’t think you’re getting any better at this,” I whisper against her lips.

She makes a soft sound, exhaling against my lips. I wait a beat. I want her, I want her so fucking badly, but I also want her to ask for it.

When Kit presses up on her toes, sealing her lips against mine, I can’t help the deep growl that escapes my throat.

Fuck, yes. This is exactly what I wanted, this moment of perfect hunger between us. Lady Katherine, giving into me because she can’t fucking resist all that I have to offer.

The second she gives me what I want, I give her something in return. I push the damp, skimpy triangle of fabric aside and find her hot and slick, so ready for my touch.

“Fuck, Kitten. You’re so wet for me,” I say. I explore her with gentle strokes, loving the soft, hungry gasps that pour from her throat. “You like this, don’t you sweetheart? You want more?”

I take her hmmmm of desire as a yes and find her core with a single thick finger, plunging it deep.

“Oh!” Kit cries. “Oh, oh!”

Damn, she’s still so tight.

She’s perfect, hot and welcoming, just like I remember. My cock aches as I slide a second finger inside her, rocking my palm against her clit.

Already she’s clenching hard around my fingers, like her body’s fucking desperate for my touch. Desperate to come.

“Shhh, they’ll hear you,” I warn her when she starts to get a little loud. “Save the vocals for the bedroom, sweetheart.”

She looks so helpless, at that. I kiss her hard, claiming her mouth with my tongue, and she opens for me like an oyster giving up its pearl.

Damn, I wish we were anywhere else right now. I may be a rake, but I can’t fuck a girl like Kit up against a wall, outside, with people twenty feet away.

When I break the kiss, breathing hard, I can tell from the way her innermost muscles flutter that she’s about to shatter.

“I wish we were alone so I could taste you, Kitten,” I rasp into her ear, nipping her earlobe. “Then I’d turn you over and fuck you, long and proper, till you came over and over. Maybe I’d even fuck that tight virgin ass… I think you’d let me, hmmm? Would you let me do that, sweetheart, fuck your pussy and your ass?”

Kit comes with the loudest cry, shaking so hard that I have to wrap my free arm around her waist to keep her upright. Her head falls against my chest for a moment, her chest rising and falling fast as she struggles for breath.

I pull free from her, straightening her panties. After a second she looks up, her eyes darkening with anger.

“God damn it, Rex,” she says, pushing me back a step.

I give a surprised laugh.

“That’s your response to what I just did for you? Honestly, Kit. I’m offended.”

It’s not a lie. She’s definitely wounding my pride, that’s for sure.

“Look,” she says, running her hands over her dress and moving away from me. “That only happened because I’m in… you know, a dry spell.”

“Is it a dry spell if it lasts five years?” I ask, pretending to wonder aloud. “I’m pretty sure most people would just call that waiting for me.”

“I—” she starts to yell, then pauses, controlling herself. “Alasdair, I did not wait for you. Get that idea out of your head.”

She turns and starts to stalk off.

“Is that it?” I ask, bemused.

“Did you think we were going to fuck on a pile of tires?” she hisses over her shoulder.

“No…”

Maybe. I mean, I wouldn’t, but I don’t exactly mind the image of it in my mind.

“Can we leave, please? I can’t just hang around here all day, waiting on you…” she says, patting her hair.

“Yeah, letting me fuck you until you come on my fingers has certainly been terrible for you, I’m sure.”

“I’ll be in the car,” she snaps.

“They all heard you come,” I tell her, crossing my arms.

She blushes, but she keeps her head high.

“I don’t care, Alasdair!” she says, stalking off into the garage, heels clicking on the concrete floor.

Atta girl, I think. That’s the Kit I knew, back when.

The girl I fell for.

As I follow her, shaking my head at myself, I start to wonder just exactly what I’m trying to get out of this whole thing.

I might have just made a huge mistake, one I can’t take back…