Racer

I don’t know what’s going on but he starts right for the motorhome, and I have to chase after him.

“Racer?”

I follow him up the motorhome steps, and I stop the door from slamming shut so I can enter behind him.

“Racer!”

The door shuts behind me.

He spins around and pulls me flat against his hard-as-fuck body. One second, I am standing inside the steps of the motorhome, and the next, I’m in the air, pressed against his warm, sweaty body as his lips crush down on mine.

I hear a splat as the bottle hits the ground. Our mouths are moving in synchrony, and I desperately hang onto my heart as his tongue flicks over mine—wet. Slow.

He’s kissing me.

Hard.

And he kisses so good that I can only struggle to breathe right as his hand slides down to grab my butt and pull me a little closer to him, where he sets another kiss, this one a peck on the lips, on me.

He eases back, and all I know is my world is blue, the most electric gorgeous blue. There’s no words to how I feel when he looks down at me like that, his gaze brilliant blue and fired up, his lips slightly curving to show his dimple. His whole body feels electric, and his eyes seem the most electric of all as he looks down at my lips, then at me with the most mischievous smile in the world.

“Why—why did you do that,” I whisper, first breathless, then a little panicked and mad.

He moves his hand to cup my skull, pressing them a little harder before he eases back. It takes me seconds, maybe a minute, to register the feel of his warm lips, to calm down the fire that suddenly exploded inside of me at the touch of his lips.

I’m breathless, my chest rising and falling fast. “You know I have three brothers, and a father, who happens to be your boss. What the fuck.”

“So.”

“So you can’t go around doing that.”

“I couldn’t help myself.” He inhales me and growls, leaning close again. “I just want to fucking kiss you right now.”

“Don’t kiss me here,” I protest. “Not on the track.”

“Where,” he grinds out impatiently.

“Somewhere else,” I breathe, stepping away before my brothers can see.

Did I just say somewhere else?

Like I want it to happen, just not here?

Judging by the look in his eyes when I glance past my shoulders, I think we both know I did.

We head to dinner that night, to celebrate.

My brothers are looking at him and me all night, and it takes all my effort not to crawl under the tablecloth. I focus on my meal and am happy to see my dad’s appetite is well and solid as they talk cars and strategy at the dinner table. Racer seems keen on hearing suggestions from the team, and I try to keep my attention on anything but him.

But I marvel over that internal radar of his, something that seems to make him aware of me because every time I lift my eyes to him, they meet his, and he’s looking at me.

Racer

I’m all packed for the Shanghai Grand Prix next, and that evening, I call home. I know what Lana’s brothers are concerned about. I’ve got a little sister. I know what I’d do if someone were thinking of her like that. I get that. I respect that. But I can’t shut my mind. Merely sensing that Lana is near I get all worked up.

“So tell me. If you had to choose something about me you like, what would it be?”

“I need to think of one thing?”

I don’t laugh.

“Who are you trying to impress here? That girl?” Iris asks.

“Just tell me what you’d like from a guy who’s after you. You like chats, flowers, what?”

“I don’t know. I don’t plan to get married, I told you so. Nothing works with me.”

I exhale in frustration. “Iris, focus here. It’s about her.”

She laughs, then sounds serious. “Wow. Am I seriously getting asked these questions by you? I thought you were going to be a successful car racer, live in a mansion like the one Iron Man has, have a butler, lots of cars, and no wife.”

“Thanks for the help, little sis.”

She laughs. “Racer, wait!” I put the phone back on my ear. “Just be real with her.”

“I don’t think girls want real, I don’t think she can take the real me.”

“Well you’ll never know until you try. Wait—hang on. Dad says fucking roses. A shit ton. Or just one.”

“Thanks.”

Dad’s old times are not our new times. But I might as well try.

At midnight, I’m knocking on Lana’s door.

She opens dressed in that blue nightie again, her nipples poking out.

The fingers of my free hand itch, while I extend out the ones holding the twelve roses in my grip.

“I got you some flowers.”

“What for?” She blinks at me and I look down at her, smiling.

“For your room. Hell, I don’t know. Throw them away if you want.”

“No! I’m …” She blushes and takes them from my hand, quickly setting them aside.

I drag my hand across my face. “Sex I’m used to. This is kind of a first.”

“What’s this.”

I shrug. Lean against the door.

“I think about you, Lana. The way you walk, and talk, the way you look at me, the way you stand there, the way you smell, even the way you dress.”

“It’s nothing special.”

“Doesn’t look unspecial from here.”

“Um Racer …”

She exhales, looking at me, and I look at her and see her nipples, want to touch them, suck them, and I can’t snap out of it for a long time. I know she’s worried we work together and I shouldn’t kiss her, but I don’t have any qualms about that. I reach out. “You going to stand there and look gorgeous in that nightie or are you going to let me run my tongue over what’s beneath?” I rasp.