Page 133 of Over the Limit

But as it ends, as he looks at me with that gorgeous gleam in his eyes, I realize, I don’t care who is watching.

We don’t have to hide anymore.

“Lachlan Evans, you are incredible.”

He quirks an eyebrow. “Now . . . what exactly do you think I could collect from you for a down payment on those Louboutin heels . . .”

I throw my head back and laugh before kissing him again. “How about all of the above?”

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

Blair

Lachlan’s place is bright and airy, and it feels so good to be here—to be somewhere else with him—than just hidden in my place.

“Tell me, Miss Carmichael, what would you like to do today?”

I glance up from my phone where I just might be scrolling all of the articles reviewing the event last night. The people squealing about Tori Michelle. The Formula 1 fans who are thrilled with seeing their driver cleaned up and wearing a tuxedo. And my personal favorite, the ones saying that the speech where my Lachlan Evans declared his love for me, was the best thing they’ve ever heard.

That it made them believe in the idea of love again.

That and the endless texts from Skylar saying how damn dreamy Lachlan seems and she must meet him STAT to verify that he is, in fact, good enough for me.

I glance around his bedroom, at the red soles thrown haphazardly on the floor, at the fancy dress left in a pile as we expressed our love for each other, and then back to the man I’m head over heels in love with.

“I can think of a hundred things to do with you.” Walk the streets hand in hand with you. Kiss you in public. Never leave this bed or your incredible touch. “But the only thing that matters is I get to do it with you.”

He crawls onto the bed and sits in front of me, his hands braced on either side of my hips. He dips his head down and teases my lips with a kiss so tender, so featherlight, that it sends chills over my skin. “How did you know that is exactly what I was thinking?”

“Kismet,” I say.

“I can think of a lot of things you can kiss, Tink. So maybe we’ll do that first and then we’ll venture out.”

“Yeah. I think we need to work up an appetite first.”

He lifts a hand to his forehead and salutes. “Lachlan Evans, reporting for duty.”

We collapse into a fit of laughter . . . that shortly thereafter slips into moans.

CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

Lachlan

I’m fucking exhausted.

And exhilarated.

It’s been an incredible few days. Days where I may have stressed over my speech at the masquerade ball while fielding apologetic calls from Zola. Apologies that I had to explain weren’t hers to give since her mom’s blow up wasn’t her fault. Both felt insignificant though, because the best part about these few days is they’ve been eventless.

Eventless unless you consider I’ve fallen even more in love with Blair during the period—if that’s even possible.

Is it bad when I gloated to my dad on the phone earlier about this? About how much I appreciated his advice on what to do, but didn’t take it? I did what I needed to, I stayed true to who I was, and nothing bad happened. In fact, quite the opposite.

So I walk into Monza like a new man. Add to it, Blair’s coming to town in a few days, and she actually gets to stand in the Apex garage as I take the track. No more peppermints left on her desk in clandestine operations. I finally get a good-luck kiss from her before I get into the car.

It’s time for us to start our own pre-race tradition, and I can’t wait to see what that becomes. The possibilities are endless.

The other incredible fucking news is the weight will finally be lifted off my shoulders. It should break in the media later today that I’m moving over to Gravitas. I signed the contract this morning. Once their powers that be sign it, it’s a done deal. I’ll switch my blue for orange. I’ll race for a new team for the first time in my Formula 1 career.