CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Emma
The storm didn’t last long. When the sound of thunder retreated down the coastline and the wind died down, the sun began to poke out from the dark storm clouds again. Locke didn’t stir, except for moving his fingers in slow, lazy circles on my upper arm.
Funny how I’d felt so wrong only a moment before, and suddenly felt so right. I couldn’t help but wish I could stay there forever, resting on that silky parachute, my head upon his rock-hard chest, listening to his heartbeat. If that was my forever, I would have been satisfied, even if I never got to compete in another race again.
That was a scary thought. Racing had always been my life. But here, with Locke, alone, I felt a completeness I’d only ever achieved while tearing around the oval. I wanted to believe he felt it too, but I had no idea.
I had no idea about so many things in my life right now. It felt like all the pieces of my life had been tossed up in the air, with no knowledge of where they would land.
I shivered against his warm body.
He kissed the top of my head. “Cold?”
“A little.”
He wrapped his arm tighter around me, pulling the parachute around us for added protection. “Does it ever rain like this in Arizona?”
“Sometimes,” I said. “Not often. Once or twice a year.”
It seemed odd. A man like Locke had obviously had his share of women. But of all the things he could think to talk to me about, when he finally spoke, it was about the weather. Maybe it was because we both knew this wasn’t supposed to happen. Maybe because if he spoke about the race or UnCaged, too much of the real world would intrude, and it would only make the wrongness feel bigger.
I lifted his hand up, threading my fingers through his. He had long, manicured fingers, not a bit of dirt to be seen. Me? I always seemed to have motor oil or grease on mine. “You need dirt under your fingernails,” I told him.
He chuckled. “I do?” He was silent for a long time. “Would that make me less of a pretty boy?”
I thought about that. Probably not. He was too pretty, just a little dirt wouldn’t mar that prettiness. He was almost a model of beauty, it was hard to believe he ever even had a hangnail or a bad hair day.
The funny thing was… I didn’t feel ugly or less than beside him, even knowing I was a frizzy ball of sweat and sand, he looked indescribably sexy, with his abundant russet hair a sexy mess on his head, his stubbled jaw without a pore, his skin tan and even.
And I just fucked him.
Holy shit. I just fucked my boss, Locke Cage, the billionaire president of Uncaged Fitness.
I wasn’t ashamed. Not yet, at least.
I held him closer, closing my eyes as if that would keep the rest of the world away. Of course, it had to end. We couldn’t stay. Eventually, those pieces of my life would land. And maybe, most likely, it would hurt.
“I suppose we should be going back,” I said, and I could hear the reluctance in my voice.
Slowly, those pieces of my real world intruded. The press conference, my parents, the race… but as much as I forced them away, I knew that was what waited for me the second we stood up and went back up the beach.
And what would happen between Locke and me?
I didn’t want to call something so beautiful a mistake, but this was a mistake.
One that couldn’t happen again.
It didn’t matter that I’d never met a man who made me feel the way he did. We couldn’t happen. We weren’t supposed to happen. What we’d done had to stay a secret. If his sister found out, or anyone found out… what would it look like?
Maybe it wouldn’t look like anything unusual. Because maybe he did this with every woman he met. He was a god who could have his choice of any woman, after all. But I’d seen the tortured look in his eye, and I recognized it because the same thing was going through my head too. He had been as helpless to resist our attraction as I was.
I sighed and held him closer, knowing I needed to let him go.
Now that we both had it out of our system, maybe we could move forward and be professional. We could—
“What the fuck are you doing?”
I’d know Brody’s voice anywhere. I sat up as if launched from a cannon, thankful for the parachute’s protection. Locke reacted immediately, stuffing his cock in his running shorts. In the darkness under the pier, I blinked as I stared in horror at my brother, the sunlight at his back.
I couldn’t see his face, but I knew what would be there. Disgust.
Shit. Where had he come from? I hadn’t even heard him approach. By the time it fully hit me what was happening, he was storming forward, rage on his face.
Holy. Shit.
I jumped up to standing, adjusting my bra top over my breasts, realizing too late it was out of place. Locke shot up too, so fast that he banged his head on the bottom of the pier. “Shit,” he growled, grabbing his injured head as he tried to shield me from my brother.
He didn’t need to worry about me. I wasn’t worried about Brody hurting me. I’d dealt with enough fistfights with Brody to know that he had a lame uppercut and usually left his right side open. Plus, even though he was now the bionic man, I doubted he was comfortable enough with his new arm to use it in battle.
But I saw where his wrath was pointed, and it nearly froze me in my tracks. My brother lunged forward, swinging at Locke with his good arm, who ducked easily, still clutching a now bleeding cut. He put up a forearm to block any further assault.
“Wait,” he said calmly, though the word was edged with tension. “Just wait.”
I stepped between them. “Brody! Come on!”
But I’d never seen Brody so enraged. He hadn’t yet gotten the hang of his bionic arm, so he held it rigid at his side, but the rest of him was raring to rip Locke’s head off. It was almost like everything he’d felt from his injury had just been bottled inside him, ready to be unleashed. His face was red, and his fist clenched, ready to pound his frustration out. He was looking at him, but his words were for me. “So, the new Emma isn’t just a bitch… she’s a slut too, huh?”
The words were like an arrow right into my chest. I opened my mouth to defend myself, but I couldn’t. I knew this was wrong. I knew what people would think, and yet I did it anyway.
He sucked on his teeth. “Drives like a girl? Bullshit. You just fuck your way to the top like one, don’t you?”
Locke placed his hands on my shoulders, pulling me away from my brother, but I yanked away, unwilling to walk away from a fight. “Shut—”
Brody just sneered. “So this is what you’ve been doing while you were working out?” He let out a bitter laugh. “I’ve been getting together and training a serious pit crew, and you’ve been fucking. Just perfect. Glad to see you’re taking this so seriously.”
I shook my head fiercely, but words failed me.
“It’s not like that,” Locke said. The gash on his forehead was now bleeding a trail down to his chin.
“It ain’t?” Now he turned on Locke, a bitter tinge in his voice. “Oh. So tell me, Mr. Billionaire Playboy. Tell me your intentions for my sister are honorable. I’d love to hear it. Tell me she isn’t just a hot piece of ass you’ve been wanting to fuck from the second you laid eyes on her. Because I saw it. I saw the way you looked at her at the resort meeting, like you wanted to have her for dinner. But I thought my sister had enough sense to stay away.”
I looked at Locke, but he was just glaring at my brother. So, he wasn’t going to deny it? He wasn’t going to tell him his intentions toward me? Maybe because he had none. Maybe because that’s all this was… fulfilling a deep need. Fucking.
The second that hit me, I felt dirtier than ever.
“You took my fucking dream,” he said, kicking the sand with his toe. “You took my fucking dream, and then you went and shit all over it. I hope you’re happy. You don’t deserve to win a race like this.”
It was too much. I had to get away. I ducked out from the pier, and that was when I saw that Brody’s ranting had drawn a crowd. Not a large one, only about half a dozen people so far, but now there were more coming down the beach. People had their cell phones out and were recording. Whispering. Watching us like some freaking soap opera. Someone said, “Isn’t that Emma James, the new race car driver?”
Shit. I always thought I’d love to be famous, to be recognized on the streets.
But not for this. Hell, definitely not for this.
And I didn’t think I could possibly feel any worse.
“Stop it,” Locke said, stepping between me and my brother. “It wasn’t like that. I—”
I couldn’t take anymore and turned on my heel. I refused to run, but I didn’t walk slow. Brody was right behind me, going on and on about what a slut I was, fucking the boss. Meanwhile, cameras were recording, and he just kept going on.
Shut up, Brody, I tried to mentally transmit to him as I marched up the beach, though I knew Brody. Once he got started, few things shut him up.
“That’s enough,” Locke yelled at my brother, and I glanced back to see the rage on his face. On both of their faces. Because of me.
“Where are you going?” Brody continued, ignoring Locke. “Aren’t you going to go fuck your lover boy Locke Cage in public some more? Now people have their cameras out, and I know from this morning how you like to perform for the cameras,” he heckled. “Why don’t you blow him, right here?”
I whirled on him, shoving him hard on the chest. “Cut it out, Brody!” I exploded, pushing him as hard as I could. Beside him, Locke stepped forward, but I refused to let him or anyone fight my battles. I shoved Brody again.
He staggered backward, but then stood there and raised his good arm over his head. “Can’t take the heat?” he shouted as I started to stomp away, hurrying onto the pavement. “You shouldn’t be on the oval.”
I whirled again. “I’m sick of you! Quit crying over what you don’t have and accept it. I’m sick of living with guilt over you. Yes, I wanted to race, but I never wanted you to be hurt. Never! I’m sick of you acting like I don’t deserve to be behind that wheel.”
“You don’t,” he snarled, shaking his head. “It’s a week before your first race, and you’re already fucking the boss. Treating this like some fucking joke.”
I lunged at him, and he blocked me with the bionic arm, then started to throw a punch of his own. I blocked it by pulling at his t-shirt, ripping it down the side. I elbowed him in the chin in the process, then scratched a bloody fingernail-path down his shoulder as he got me into a headlock.
This wasn’t unusual for us. Back home in Wintersburg, we’d sometimes get in brawls so bad we’d both end up with busted lips. I didn’t think Brody would ever hit a girl, but as his sister, I didn’t qualify. But this time was different. Before, our fights were good-natured sparring. Fun. But now, I’d never wanted to hurt him so much. I didn’t think I’d ever felt so out of control. I was nearly frothing at the mouth, I was so rabid with anger.
I wanted him dead. And from the look in his eyes, he wanted the same for me.
But Locke stepped in and pried us apart before my brother could throw his knockout punch. “Hey, hey, hey,” he said calmly. He tried to put a hand over my closed fist, but I yanked it away.
His calmness only fed my rage. “What the fuck are you doing?” I screamed at Locke, clawing so I could get back to my target. “I can fight my own fights! Let me at him!”
He didn’t move. He planted himself between us, a barrier I couldn’t get through. I jumped, scratched, pushed madly, trying to get past him, but Locke Cage was a wall. It wasn’t possible for me to overcome him with my one hundred and eleven pounds.
When it was clear I wasn’t getting through, I had to settle for watching Brody stomp away, giving me the finger with his good hand as he walked.
“Fuck him!” I shouted at Locke. “Fuck him! I’m telling you right now! He’s not going anywhere near the speedway next week! I’d rather have a fucking Sanderson as my crew chief! Do you hear me?”
Locke just looked at me like I was insane. He had no idea who the Sandersons were, but at that moment, I didn’t care. My fists were still clenched, wanting to punch something. But there was nothing around to punch. So I tilted my head back and screamed into the air like a madwoman, so out of control and crazy that I thought I was going to die.
The cameras recorded it all. People leaned over and whispered to one another, and they all seemed to be wearing smiles that said, Whoa, she’s going to regret this later.
Too late.
Even as I raged, the regret began to seep in. My hair was wild, my body covered in sand, my clothes askew, and Locke had blood all over his tech shirt. We looked like we’d been through a war. And hell, I felt like it too. I looked at him, and he didn’t say a word. He just looked sad. Like we’d gone and fucked everything up.
And we had.
Shit, we really had.
This was supposed to be the thing that changed my career, that changed my entire life. It was supposed to make me a NASCAR star. I’d been so focused on that for so long that nothing else had mattered. But ever since I laid eyes on Locke, things had veered in a very different direction. They’d gone totally off course. These past few weeks had been nothing but one big, long fuck-up.
Because from the moment we’d seen each other in the resort, we’d wanted each other, and the passion we’d ignited wouldn’t be quenched until we’d done what we’d done. It had felt inevitable.
Now, though, it felt incredibly stupid. Because following that passion had tainted the very thing I’d dreamed of all my life.
Maybe Brody was right. Maybe I didn’t deserve to be there.