Racer

I touch her lips in a way I want to touch my mouth to hers, and she flushes wild.

“I … someone can see you here. Come in.”

She’s blushing beet red, and I walk in, scanning her room, and then her lovely ass and legs as she walks to her room. I shift and move my cock, look down at my palms, rub them together before I rub them down my jeans.

“You can’t keep coming over here to tell me anything. Here, write down my text.”

She leans over me to get her phone, and I smell her, her skin inches away. I reach out, put my hands on her waist, and draw her down to my lap. My mouth searches, finds, and fucking seizes her, and I fucking kiss her like I wanted to from the moment I saw her standing there last night.

“What are you doing?”

“This,” I murmur, licking into her mouth. I brush her hair back, looking into her pretty eyes, round with shock. If nobody’s ever gone after her like this, I’m fucking glad, but I’m not backing off. I grab the back of her head, press her closer. I need a deeper taste, fucking explore that mouth, warm wet and minty.

Fill my hands with her ass, shift her so my cock is right up against her opening. She feels damn good and I’m getting worked up.

“I want this now.”

She groans, but she’s breathing heavily, her pupils dilated.

“I want this. You. Me, this. I want this now.”

“Now now?” she gasps.

I laugh, let her go and run my hand through my hair, grinning. “Not now now, but now.”

She shakes her head. “My dad …” She shakes her head. “We can’t. We don’t even know each other.”

“I want to know more. I want to know everything about you. Physical, mental, the shit that matters to you.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. You tell me what it is about you.” I run my thumb down her cheek, and to be honest I don’t care what it is. I just know it’s there and I just know it’s her.

“Trust me, there’s nothing special about me.”

“There’s so much special I don’t know where to begin.”

“Please get some sleep, Racer. We have qualifying tomorrow.”

I lean back and smile. “I’m not tired.”

“Well tire yourself out!”

I take her hand before she turns away. “One day soon I’m going to take you out on a drive with me and you’ll never be the same.”

“Is that why you rented some fancy car?” she says. She seems to realize I never told her this detail, and she blushes. “I overheard you and Clay talking about which one you should rent. Something fast.”

“For such little ears, they sure seem to work right.”

She laughs.

Damn, I want her in my car, the wind in her hair, I want to play some tunes and hear her laugh about them. Reach out to shift gears, and put my hands in her thighs instead.

“Maybe. If you let me drive.” She smirks.

“Fat chance. I’m the driver here,” I growl, laughing.

I fall sober after a moment.

“I want this now, crasher,” I repeat.

So, yeah you could say I’m relentless. You could say I’m the sort of guy who knows what he wants and isn’t afraid of anything, not the law, or the rules. I’m my father’s son. I like to go for what I want. Chase my ambitions.

I want this girl beneath me and that’s that.

I’m Racer Tate and this girl is mine.

Lana

I tried to ignore him as we traveled to Shanghai. My brothers are keeping a watchful eye, and my dad, whose stamina I worry about, is better off concentrating on our goal at hand.

We traveled for nearly a full day, nonstop, then crashed in our rooms, recovering before setting up our tent at the Shanghai race track.

Now we’re looking to be in top shape after our best practice session to date.

“This guy’s fucking insane.”

Drake laughs, while Racer eases out of the car and pulls off his helmet. His hair is a little wet and rumpled, and as he unzips the top of his Nomex suit and pulls it down to his waist, the white undershirt he’s wearing plasters to his muscular chest like second skin.

I’m scrambling to bring him something to drink, an assortment of bottles in my hand, when I fall splat on my face. Fuck! Oh my god. The water bottles roll around.

“Jesus, Lainie,” Clay rants, kicking a bottle back in my direction so that it gently rolls closer to where I lie.

I’m praying he didn’t see it when I feel him come close and hunch down before me.

I start to reach out for the drinks.

Racer takes my face and forces me to look at him, and the center of my universe is suddenly immersed in blue.

“I can get my own drinks,” he gruffs.

He’s soaked, his sweat smelling of soap and salt and guy, and something in my chest moves when he then grips me by the elbow and gently rises to his feet, pulling me up with him.

I am used to being bullied by my brothers, to us fighting a little more than to them being, well, tender to me. Racer’s unexpected concern for me makes me feel vulnerable and weak, and I don’t like it. I pull my arm free and snatch up the water bottles.

“Okay then, I won’t,” I say, shoving the Gatorade and the coconut water, the ones closest to me, into each of his hands before starting to storm away.

My brothers are hauling the car up from pits to bring it to our tents, but I know that they didn’t miss a beat of what went down. The three are scowling deeply, a fact that Racer ignores as he just comes to his feet, cracks open a coconut water, and chugs it down, his keen blue eyes watching me—laser into the back of my head, actually—as I head into the motorhome.