Driven to Protect, page 20
“No.” Cohen growled under his breath. “I don’t think it’s as simple as me or you fucking up. Let’s not argue now and just smile for Lilly-Anne.”
“Okay. I care for you, Cohen.”
He knew that and he knew Paulo was doing his best to unlearn his upbringing. He breathed out, ignoring the nasty little burn in his lungs. Lilly-Anne turned to wave at Felix, who joined her for a few poses. Cohen’s heart ached for them, the simplicity of their love for each other, as if no one else in the world mattered. Oh. He had that and he couldn’t throw that away thoughtlessly.
“I’m not mad at you. I’m angry at your father.” Cohen reached out and held Paulo’s hand, rubbing his thumb across the calloses on his palm.
“You are?”
“Yes. He’s actively forcing you to make an impossible choice. I want the freedom that Lilly-Anne and Felix have; to be exactly who they are and happy to show the world.”
“I want that too.”
“But you can’t. I understand. It’s okay.”
“Is it?”
Cohen grimaced. “Well, it’s not a hundred percent okay and that’s why I’m mad at your father.”
“If it helps, I’m mad at him too. And I’m mad at your father. Ergh. Fathers.” Paulo closed his eyes and breathed out. “Actually, no. It’s not fair to say that. Ondrej’s father is accepting and supportive; many drivers have supportive families. Socrates and Mike have been incredible fathers to Xenia. We are the ones who lucked out.”
“Yes.” They had more in common with their family backgrounds than he’d realised. Paulo’s family money made it tricky for Cohen to see that they both had toxic parents who didn’t accept who they each were. Money made many problems disappear. Not this problem, though. “We can make our own family. Family isn’t about a DNA connection, it’s deeper than that.”
“I agree. And I have a plan to deal with Senior so that I am not reliant on his money as much for my work, and then we can be a family, not just at home, but everywhere.”
“You do?” It was a lot to take in. Lilly-Anne stood fiercely in Cohen’s corner, except for the complicated way Lilly-Anne saw their mom. And now Paulo had a plan to do the same.
“Yes. This season, I’m going to prove that I’m among the best. I’ll be consistent and that will allow the team to get different sponsors. Then I’ll be free to be with you, out and open, just like the rest of my team. I want to show the world what you mean to me...” Paulo opened his eyes. “I just have to earn it first.”
Cohen couldn’t breathe. As far as declarations of love went, it was perfectly Paulo and just fucking everything. He wanted to fuck Paulo right now, just bend him over the stone wall and shower him with kisses and love. Paulo pulled him closer and leaned forward to kiss him. The kiss tasted like home. A flash went off.
“Oh my god, you guys are so cute.” Lilly-Anne’s voice broke through their kiss and Cohen pulled back.
“Your timing sucks.” Cohen turned around to growl at his sister.
“It’s my wedding. I can say and do whatever I want. Isn’t that what you told me?”
“Fine. Yes.”
“Then kiss again. I want more photos of you two.”
Paulo leaned closer and whispered. “Please. I enjoy kissing you, and we know the photos will be just for us. One day, once I’ve earned a new sponsor, we can share them with the world.”
“I’d like that.” Cohen loved looking at the gold flecks in Paulo’s big brown eyes. “Besides, we really need photos of you in this kilt.” He placed his hands on Paulo’s chest, gripping the lapels of his shirt, and pulled him closer for a proper kiss.
Chapter 22
Paulo always wanted to be kissed by Cohen. He’d never tire of it. Cohen was so damned good at kissing. Paulo melted in Cohen’s arms, loving the way Cohen’s beard brushed against his skin. Every kiss was a conversation with Paulo wanting to earn Cohen’s affection and Cohen telling him that he’d already done enough, and he deserved all the attention being poured into him. He’d believe that when he was completely out to the world. Each stroke of Cohen’s tongue sent flashes of heat through Paulo, as if he could absorb all of Cohen’s confidence with this connection. He wished he could tell everyone about his amazing boyfriend. One day. One day, he’d be able to do it, when he’d earned it and removed the obstacle in his path. Slowly, with each brush of Cohen’s lips, Paulo was starting to believe that he could have everything; Cohen, a career in S1, and team sponsors who accepted him completely.
“Lilly-Anne. I do not approve of your friends. Two men kissing in public is obscene and one is wearing a dress!” A judgemental voice sang out clearly across the open space.
“It’s a kilt and Paulo looks fucking sexy in it.” Cohen’s shoulders shook as he spoke softly.
“I take it that voice belongs to your mother?” Paulo asked. He held Cohen tighter, then forced himself to relax so he didn’t hurt him by clinging too much. He wasn’t sure that the woman had heard Cohen.
“Yeah.”
“Are you ... laughing?” He didn’t understand what was going on.
Cohen’s eyes sparkled and his smile shone brightly. “My mother just gendered me correctly for the first time in my life. I’m pretty sure she didn’t recognise me.”
“So that was just stock standard homophobia?” Paulo frowned. “Isn’t that still bad?”
“It’s not great.” Cohen’s nostrils flared as he breathed in deeply. “She shouldn’t say that to you.”
“And you.”
“Mom, if you aren’t going to be polite, you are welcome to leave.” Lilly-Anne’s voice had a careful neutral note.
“I am not going to leave. My daughter is the bride. I think I should have had some say in the guest list.” The woman had dyed blonde hair, carefully cut into a fashionable bob cut, and she wore a beautiful pastel pink evening gown. She had that look of someone who’d been beautiful in her youth and was desperately clinging to it. The attempt failed because her face was marred by a sneering expression with her mouth turned down at the corners.
“Essie. Please escort this person from the grounds. She isn’t welcome.” Lilly-Anne cut off any issues before they began. Essie spoke into a radio and staff members appeared from all over, surrounding Cohen’s mom. They escorted her away from everyone, marching quickly. The woman’s protests faded away with every step. Lilly-Anne leaned against Felix, and Paulo hoped she wasn’t going to faint. She looked very pale and wobbly. Essie rushed over with a little handkerchief and blotted at Lilly-Anne’s face.
“I’m not going to cry.”
“Later. We can analyse this later. You can cry then, and I’ll hold you close.” Felix rubbed his hand in circles on Lilly-Anne’s back. Paulo stepped backwards. This felt all too intimate, like he was a bystander to something private, and he didn’t know what to do. The idea of vaguely flinging himself over the stone wall appealed for a second, just so he wouldn’t be in the way. It was the need to hide and get away that drove the urge. Instead, he stayed put, awkward, tense, and uncomfortable, unsure of what to do.
“Aren’t they lovely together?” Cohen leaned against Paulo’s shoulder.
“Huh?”
“Lilly-Anne and Felix.”
“Yes.” Paulo paused for a moment, enjoying the way Cohen’s body fit against his. “When Felix said we’ll analyse this later, is that something you want too?”
Cohen rose on his tiptoes and brushed his lips against Paulo’s ear, sending a shiver down his spine. Every single time that Cohen touched his mouth to Paulo’s skin, Cohen managed to take all of Paulo’s uncertainty and switch it into something wonderful.
“No. I don’t need to analyse it. I’m good. Honestly. I’m pleased that Lilly-Anne made the decision quickly. I don’t need to be annoyed that she chose to invite her. I’m going to choose to see the upside in having her removed so rapidly after one awful comment.”
“If you are sure, then that’s enough for me.”
“I am. Let’s forget it and focus on celebrating Lilly-Anne and Felix.”
“I have always found your confidence inspiring.” Paulo blurted, then clamped his hand over his mouth. God, this environment with all the heightened emotions made him want to place everything he had—his heart most of all—at Cohen’s feet.
“Thank you.” Cohen bit him gently on his earlobe.
“Fuck, that’s good.” Paulo’s breath rushed out of him as heat scattered across his skin. “Cohen.”
“Yes?”
“I wish we were alone.”
Cohen stepped back a half-pace and winked. “I’d bet you’d let me fuck you in public if I asked.”
Paulo shivered. The image of himself being tipped against the stone wall, with his chest resting on the top as he stared down at the valley with all the early spring growth making the land green and lush, with his kilt flicked up over his back, and Cohen standing behind him with his suit pants around his knees as he fucked him. Fuck yes. He swallowed.
“You are seriously considering it, aren’t you? Despite all the reasons why you shouldn’t.”
“Yes.” Paulo hissed under his breath. He wouldn’t want to do that if people were watching—he would never be an exhibitionist—but the idea of risking it in a public place where someone might see by accident ... Fuck. That made him tremble with need. His cock was uncomfortably hard against the wool of the kilt and the weight of the sporran.
“Good boy.” Cohen traced his thumb along Paulo’s bottom lip. “I’m tempted, but one of us has to have good sense and if the photos were made public... well, it’s not worth the risk to either of our jobs.”
Paulo couldn’t get rid of the image from his head. Good sense? He had none of that. Desire pushed away anything that might constitute a logical thought process. “I don’t care.”
“Yes. You do.” Cohen grinned. “But I love that I can make you ignore reality with just a few words.”
“Fuck. Cohen.” Paulo pleaded. He needed him. Now.
“You’ll have to wait. This is just the release of adrenalin.”
Paulo swallowed again, trying to breathe. He nodded, unable to talk.
“This feeling is the same thing as at the end of a race when you’ve had a good result.” Cohen’s explanation made complete sense. He’d only been to four of Paulo’s races at the end of last season, and yet he already knew this. It was just another way Cohen was the perfect person for him. After every good result, there was a rush of adrenalin and satisfaction, and when it wore off, Paulo was left with an emptiness that could only be fixed by chasing another victory. Competitiveness was so intertwined with his sense of self. It wasn’t bad. It just was, and right now, he wanted to show the world his amazing boyfriend.
“How do you know?”
“You aren’t usually this reckless.”
“Reckless?” He gulped. “You accused me of that when we arrived.” The whine in his voice echoed the frustration at being cock-blocked by Cohen’s sensible decision not to fuck in public at his sister’s wedding. He stepped backwards and ran his hands through his hair.
“Fuck. I’m sorry. I don’t know what got into me.”
Cohen grinned. “Emotions make us do interesting things. And you weren’t reckless with me that day in Austin. I just misunderstood. I thought people drove fast because they didn’t care about themselves, or something.”
“It’s not that.”
“Wait. Maybe that’s true for most people. For you, I’ve noticed that it isn’t about the speed exactly, but about being competitive. You understand the risks you are taking and you adjust to the situation.” Cohen chuckled. “That’s why this is so fascinating to me.”
“Why?” He wasn’t sure he followed what Cohen was talking about.
“You are so careful about your identity and who knows about you and us because you understand the potential cost to you and your team. And yet, you were willing to ignore that calculation now...”
“To show you that you matter more to me than anything. Hearing those words dismiss our kiss so horribly makes me want to tell the whole world and screw the consequences.” He puffed out his chest. “I’ll tattoo your name on me and put it on my socials.”
“Please don’t do that. If you are going to get a tattoo, please make it something special.”
“Your name is special to me. You are important to me.” Perhaps even more important than the single goal he’d spent his entire life aiming at. The shocking admission felt good. One day, if it came to it, and he had to pick between S1 and Cohen, he’d pick Cohen.
“Paulo.” Cohen’s soft exhalation around his name sank deep inside Paulo. He’d earned that one, all by himself, and he would cherish it forever. He stared deep into Cohen’s eyes and tried to communicate everything that he felt; like he’d torn his heart out and given it to Cohen to care for.
“Excuse me,” Essie arrived back, an abrupt interruption that jarred, tearing him away from what felt like a pivotal moment. “The offender has been removed from the property and the staff all understand not to let her back on the grounds. Shall we keep going with the photos? We are a little behind schedule.”
“Heaven forbid that we upset the schedule.” Felix laughed. “Come on darling. Let’s pose with Cohen for a proper family photo.”
“And Paulo.”
Paulo nodded. “Okay.” He almost told Lilly-Anne to take some without him just in case he could never be open about his relationship with Cohen, but he stopped himself. He’d made his choice. He could be in these photos—as part of Cohen’s family—because he chose Cohen over everything else. As for the rest, he could still earn that with persistence and a reminder that driving S1 was his passion and his lifelong goal. He could have everything. Later. Most importantly, right now, was that this would be Cohen’s family from now onwards and these photos would shine with the love and care they had for each other. He followed Cohen and stood where the photographer showed him.
“I’m so sorry, Cohen. I shouldn’t have invited her.”
“Can I say I told you so to the bride on her wedding day?” Cohen’s smirk was fucking perfect and the way Lilly-Anne whacked him on the shoulder, then laughed, broke all the built-up tension.
“No, but I’ll allow it once.”
“If everyone could look this way, please, and smile.” The photographer waved their arm, and the process began. After countless photos, Paulo’s face hurt from holding a smile. He must’ve taken photos with everyone, including an entire soccer team and various combinations of Felix’s family. He’d made more promises to drive people around the Nurburgring than he could potentially keep and had taken selfies for people to upload to their social media. Yes, there was a social media ban at the wedding, except for one booth set up in a spare room at the castle that Lilly-Anne had sanctioned for selfies only. One of the hotel staff looked after all the phones to make sure they weren’t used elsewhere to take sneaky photos of the more famous guests without their permission.
“Paulo, I’ve been looking for you.” Cohen sounded exasperated.
“I’m here.”
“Taking selfies?”
“With fans. It’s fine because it’s just me and them, and I’m cool with my image being on fan pages if it’s just me and a fan or two. It’s part of the job.”
“That kilt is going to get the internet buzzing.”
Paulo nodded. “I’ve already had a couple of texts from Melati about it.” He’d told her about the wedding and to expect a few fans tagging him, but he’d forgotten to tell her what he was wearing. Opinions were apparently divided on whether it was appropriation or art. No one had made the connection to the trans flag yet and he was curious to see how long it would take for a clever fan to notice. With the way some fans were obsessed with any image of a driver doing something away from the track, it was bound to happen.
“Any problems?”
“No. I should probably text her the name of the designer of the kilt and the fabric.”
Cohen’s smile beamed with delight. “Yes please. It’d be a huge boost for Isabella.”
“Are you first name friends now?” He teased Cohen who bit his bottom lip.
“I might have reached out on socials to thank her. It turns out we have a few mutual online friends, so she’s joined our discord group now.”
“That’s super cool. Hang on, I’ll grab my phone and text Melati now.”
“And then we need head inside for dinner and dancing.”
Paulo smiled. “I can’t wait to dance with you.” He spun around and the kilt flared out a little. Not enough to show his naked ass but just enough of a hint that Cohen’s eyes flashed wider and darkened with lust. The rest of the night promised to be incredible.
Chapter 23
Bahrain
“The rise and rise of Gamble Racing.” The headline on the front page after Ondrej won the first race of the season and Paulo finished just off the podium in fourth was incredibly satisfying. It was Monday morning after the race, and he lay in his hotel room bed with Cohen reading the S1 news on his phone. They had a flight to Saudi Arabia this afternoon for the next race and were both taking advantage of the sleep in.
“Um, Paulo. Have you heard from Melati?”
“No, I’m sure she’s doing the usual post-race stuff.”
“There is a photo of you online.”
Paulo shrugged. “There are lots of photos of me online.”
“Not like this.” Cohen held his phone in front of Paulo’s face. A blurry photo of Paulo in his kilt at the wedding, being swung around on the dance floor by Cohen, filled the screen. The photo was clear enough that anyone could tell it was him dancing with a man who wore a suit made of the same fabric as his kilt.
“Oh.” He wasn’t sure what to say. There was only one interpretation of that photo.
“SanchezKilt is trending.”
“Again.” It had on the day of the wedding last weekend too as people at the wedding at shared their selfies with him. Paulo’s phone dinged with a message.
Melati: Have you seen the photo?
