He smiled down at her. “You wreck me.”

Her lips curved. “That’s good. Because you always do the same thing to me.”

He bent to kiss her, tasted himself on her mouth, and licked the curve of her lips, then wound an arm around her waist to deepen the kiss. She moaned and wrapped her legs around him. He swept his hand over her stockings and his dick began to harden again, especially when she arched against him.

He fell onto the bed, keeping his weight off her but needing to feel her body close, needing his c**k rubbing against her wet, hot pussy. He reached for one of the condoms, put it on in a hurry, and was inside her, taking in her gasp of pleasure with his mouth on hers.

He rose up, wanting to watch her breathe, to watch her br**sts rise and fall as they moved in unison. He wanted to touch her, to rub his fingers over her cl*tas he thrust in and out of her. He wanted to watch her eyes darken as she rushed ever closer to cl**ax.

And when she wrapped her legs around him again, when her pu**y tightened around his c**k and he knew she was ready to go off, that’s when he sank deep, when he f**ked her harder, when he rubbed his chest against her breast and levered his h*ps against hers.

And when she screamed, it was the sweetest music she could ever sing, because it made him come hard, grinding against her and groaning out his own orgasm as he slid a hand under her butt to draw her even tighter against him while they both rode it out until they were spent and panting in each other’s ears.

“I don’t think I can move ever again,” she said a few minutes later.

He smiled and swept her hair out of her face. “Fortunately for you, it’s not quite time to check out yet.”

She laughed. “Good. I might be stuck like this for many hours.”

“Yeah, but I’m hungry.”

She rolled over on her side to face him. “What is it with men and sex and the need for food?”

“Protein replacement. When we ejaculate, we have to replenish, you know.”

She rolled her eyes. “I think that’s just an excuse to have a late-night burger.”

“Probably. So what would you like?”

She sat up and slid off the bed. On the way to the bathroom she stopped, turned, and looked at him. “A burger, of course.”

TWENTY-FOUR

EVELYN WAS BEYOND EXCITED TO BE IN ATLANTA, NOT only for the race but the upcoming convention. It was going to be an exciting couple weeks.

Gray agreed to go to the convention and be at his father’s side. The week of the convention was a bye week for racing, so it couldn’t have turned out more perfectly if she’d planned it.

The social media campaign had been going well, and she’d even gotten Gray more involved in that, doing some of his own posts on Facebook and Twitter, which was not only introducing his fans to the senator, it was getting them more involved with Gray on a racing level, which his fans loved. He’d been doing a great job talking about his father and what he was doing on the campaign trail, his father’s platform, and what Gray believed his father could do for the country. Gray mixed that in nicely with weekly race information—how he felt about the last race and information about the upcoming race. He kept his followers in the loop, both politically and race-wise.

He was gaining more followers every day, and hopefully he could see the value of being more directly involved in social media. It was a win-win.

She’d been trying to convince him to give a speech at the convention now that the senator was definitely going to be Cameron’s running mate. So far, Gray had said no, but she could tell from his voice and his body language it wasn’t a firm no. She understood his reluctance. He wasn’t a political kind of guy. Just being at the convention with his dad would be enough support. But if he gave a speech it would seal the deal, and Evelyn knew they’d garner a lot of votes.

Patience. She paced the confines of the trailer. She had to be patient, and everything would fall into place. Which was hard to do when all her peers and everyone who’d been with the senator were working so hard right now at the hotel near the convention center, while she was blazing a hole in Gray’s carpet in his trailer, stopping every few minutes to chew the last stubs off her fingernails or send an email or check polls or the latest blogs or statistics.

Doing nothing when the campaign was about to go into full swing was making her crazy. She wanted to be on the front lines.

She also wanted to be with Gray. This was a big race. He hadn’t done all that well in the Michigan or Bristol races and he’d dropped in the standings. Now in second, Atlanta was important. She needed to be here with him.

Actually, she didn’t. Her being here wouldn’t make him race any better. She needed to listen to her own advice. She’d told Stacie that Donny didn’t need her to be here holding his hand. The same held true for Evelyn.

Still, she wanted to be here, supporting him. She chewed on her fingernail and stared at the latest polls coming up on her laptop.

“You really shouldn’t be here.”

She whirled to find Gray staring at her from the steps, horrified that she’d so lost track of time.

“Tell me I didn’t miss practice.”

His lips curved as he threw his gear into a chair. “It was practice, Evelyn. Not a race.”

Dammit. “I’m so sorry. I just popped in here to check some stats and answer a few emails, which I could have done on my phone. And then I got involved reading some political blogs and a few news capsules. Then I made a few phone calls—”

He jerked her into his arms and kissed her, which always seemed to calm the adrenaline rush work brought out in her. When he pulled away, she was languid and turned on. But still felt guilty.

“I’m still sorry I missed practice.”

“And I don’t expect you to park your ass out there and watch me every second.

You have a job and it’s crunch time. You should be at the convention center. You should pack up and go.”

She shook her head. “I need to be here with you. You’re my job right now.”

He tucked her hair behind her ear. “I’ve already agreed to come to the convention.

Your job here is done. Go work for my dad. I think I can race without you.”

“You can. But I’m not going to let you. There will be plenty of time for me at the convention after you race this weekend.”

He slid his arms around her. “You’re a stubborn woman, Evelyn.”

“I prefer determined.”

*

QUALIFYING HAD BEEN TOUGH, HOT AS HELL, AND JUST as frustrating as a race. And it hadn’t yielded the results Gray had been looking for.

A sixth-place spot wasn’t going to put him where he wanted to be. He thought his time had been great. Obviously not great enough. Even worse, Donny had crashed during qualifying, so he’d have to start the race in the back.

After he answered what seemed like a thousand questions about Preston Racing team’s backslide over the past few weeks, which to Gray hadn’t seemed like a backslide at all, he was hot and tired and in need of Evelyn’s sweet face. He looked around the pits for her, shocked as hell to see his father there.

What the hell was Mitchell Preston doing here? As far as Gray knew, his father had never once attended one of his races. How utterly timely for him to show up at qualifying, a week before the convention. Of course he was all smiles as the cameras were in his face. Gray could well imagine what his father was talking about.

Himself. His campaign. Stumping for votes. Telling the American people how important it was that they vote for him. Maybe something tying Gray into his campaign.

All bullshit.

It was the last insult to an already miserable f**king day. He headed over to where his father was surrounded by cameras. Evelyn caught his gaze and smiled, meeting him halfway, looping her arm around his and stopping his forward progress.

“Are you surprised?”

He dragged his gaze away from his dad. “What?”

“That your father’s here.”

He dragged his head from the fog of confusion. “What are you talking about? Did you arrange this?”

Now it was her turn to look confused. “Me? Of course not. I had no idea he was going to show up. He shocked the hell out of me when he called and said he was here.

I scrambled to get him in. Thank God for Ian, who helped us out. He hung out here watching everyone qualify, Gray.”

Sure. He had the whole time to work the crowd. “I’m sure he did.”

She frowned. “Aren’t you happy? He’s talking to reporters right now.”

“Of course he is. That’s what he does. That’s why he’s here.”

It was just like school again, his father only showing up to stump for votes. He was only here for self-serving reasons. Not for Gray.

Not ever for Gray.

He waded into the crowd of photographers and reporters and pulled his father close.

“Gray,” his father said, his smile wide. “You did so well today. I had no idea you were so talented. I’m so proud of you.”

Of course he had no idea, because he’d never shown up. But he wouldn’t do this here. Not in front of all these reporters.

He smiled for the cameras, but turned so only his father could hear.

“I won’t let you manipulate me, old man. Get the f**k out of my sport.”

He turned and walked away, not bothering to look back to see the expression on his father’s face.

Because he didn’t care how Mitchell Preston felt.

He should never have agreed to this media circus. He knew from the outset it would be a mistake, a clusterfuck.

Seeing his father at home in the middle of that media storm of reporters and photographers set Gray off. This should have been about racing, not politics, and he knew then he’d been right all along.

He should have said no. No matter what kind of emotional blackmail his mother had tried to use on him, he should have said no.

Because he was suddenly eight years old again, with that gut-punch feeling of hurt because his dad had just let him down.

And no matter how old he got, that feeling was never going to go away.

TWENTY-FIVE

EVELYN LEFT THE SENATOR IN THE HANDS OF HIS AIDES, instructing them to wind down the interviews and get the senator out of there, that there’d be no joint interviews with Gray and Mitchell Preston today. She made up the excuse that Gray had other commitments today, and they’d try for another day.

She knew where to find him—in his trailer, the only place he could be assured of privacy.

Surprisingly, he hadn’t locked her out. She shut the door, found him nursing a beer, his fire suit hanging around his hips.

“What was that about?”

He shrugged and ignored her, taking another long swallow of beer.

She moved into the room and stood in front of him, arms crossed. “Your father came here today to watch qualifying, you know.”

He smiled around the rim of the bottle. “My father came today to use me to get votes and face time.”

“Uh, no. The only thing he said on camera was how proud he was of you, and what an amazing driver you were.”

Gray snorted, tossed the beer into the trash and got another out of the fridge, then resumed his seat.

Irritated, she leaned against the arm of the chair across from him. “Why do you find that so hard to believe?”

He didn’t even look at her, just past her. “Because he never once saw me play ball when I was a kid. Or in high school or in college. He was always too busy with politics, with his career, which was so much more important than his own kid. Except one time, he showed up at my game. God, I was so excited to see him there, until I realized it was an election year. He wasn’t even watching me play. He was glad-handing the parents in the stands, trying to get votes. I could have walked off the field and he wouldn’t have known the difference. He didn’t even know I was there.”

“I’m sorry, Gray. That must have hurt.”

He shrugged. “I got over it, and got used to his indifference.”

“I can’t imagine you could ever get used to that. But that’s not the Mitchell Preston I know. The Mitchell Preston I know is warm and caring.”

He dragged his gaze to her. “Yeah, he was always warm and caring with beautiful women.”

She rolled her eyes. “I told you he’s never been like that with me.”

“So you’ve said.”

“Don’t be insulting to me just because you’re pissed at your dad. I think you know me better than that.”

“Do I? You seem to defend him a lot.”

He was hurt, and lashing out at her because his father wasn’t there to take his anger out on. A part of her understood that, even though his words hurt her. “I defend him because of who he is and what he stands for. He isn’t the man you describe to me.

Believe me, I know about his past. I wasn’t going to work for someone I hadn’t fully vetted. But after his heart attack, he changed.”

Gray frowned. “What heart attack? My father never had a heart attack.”

“Uh, yeah, he did, Gray.”

“When?”

“Eight years ago. It nearly killed him, and it sure as hell scared the shit out of him. It changed his life and changed his outlook on everything, from politics to his relationships with his staff, the way he lived his life and his relationship with his wife.

He said he reached out to you afterward, but you refused to respond.”

Gray shook his head, unable to fathom what Evelyn said was true. Eight years ago he’d been . . . what? Racing. Loving his life, just getting started.

He didn’t remember his father contacting him. Then again, they corresponded, but that was right after his grandfather died, too. When Gray inherited the money. He remembered his father calling him, trying to see him. He figured his father was going to try to convince him to reevaluate and go to Harvard. He wanted no part of that, so he resisted the contact with his father.