I watch his Adam’s apple work as he swallows too, his gaze dropping and fastening to my lips.

He tugs me close, his nose almost against mine. “I’m starting P2 today. P2’s got to be more than kissing.”

“You’ve just got to have the healthiest self-esteem of anyone I’ve ever known.”

“I can be very stubborn too,” he gruffs out, his eyes gleaming mischievously. He winks.

He lifts my hand and turns it around, gently kissing the center of my palm. I’m so surprised I hear my mouth open on a gasp, but my throat doesn’t seem to release the gasp, it gets caught somewhere in the middle when his tongue flicks out to lick me.

Slowly, I look at his bent head, the head of messy black hair, his chiseled profile, his eyes drifting shut as he savors my palm like I’m the most delicious morsel on the planet.

“Racer …” I begin.

He circles his tongue around the center, then sort of drags it into the sensitive skin on the inside of my wrist, where he presses both his lips and his hot wet tongue to my pulse point. I’ve never been seduced by a guy, or ever been wanted like this by a guy.

I can’t move and am paralyzed from the pleasure as I simply watch him, grappling with the urge to duck my head and nuzzle the top of his head, nudge his face around so that his tongue—rather than lick my wrist, is licking inside me, inside my mouth.

I’m salivating for this guy and so wound-up that I’m suddenly doing just that, following the impulse to drop my head and nudge his face around, and as he turns, his hard jaw rasps against my cheek and then … then the softness of his mouth is pressing against mine and I’m pressing back just as hard.

I’m trembling so hard, my body is jerking a little, but my arms wind around his wide shoulders and I press closer, feeling as though he’s the only thing that will center me right now, that will give me some semblance of balance now.

Our mouths move, simultaneously, his opening wider and going slower than mine.

His chest is a wall against my puckered nipples and his strength is like a cloak around him, around us both.

“Eight p.m. tonight, baby,” he says, pecking my lips as a finale.

“Yes, baby,” I whisper back, pecking him back.

His expression slips, and instead of indifference or arrogance, his expression reveals the rawness of his need.

It does something to me; seeing that he wants me like this.

He seems to lose control and pulls me closer, deeper into his arms. “You turn me on like nothing in my life, Lana,” he rasps.

“Not even Kelsey.”

He smirks, eyes dancing. “She’s a close second. But yeah. Not even her. Or Dolly.”

His contagious grin makes me smile and I wiggle free, perspiring head to toe, my toes curling as I step out of the motorhome, watching my brothers watch me walk away. I flip them the bird, seeing their smiles fade as my own appears. Bullies.

Racer

We drive along the streets of London, the wind in her hair, before I park us at a cliff overlooking the Thames.

“All right, come here, Lana.”

She hops out of the convertible and walks forward while I pull out some food and a cooler of drinks from the trunk.

I set them down and pull her down with me. She seems curious as she watches me open a bottle of wine, sized perfectly for one, and gifts me with a damn gorgeous smile when I hand it over to her.

“Time someone took care of you for a change,” I gruff out, dropping a kiss on her lips.

I fiddle with my phone, setting it up to play music via Bluetooth. I scroll through my library looking for one of the ones I know she likes. I play Favorite Record and turn the car volume up.

Her eyes light up when it starts playing, and she seems impressed. “You remember.”

“I pay attention.”

She flushes pink.

“This is such a nice spot.” She looks around at the river and at the city lights of London.

“I told you that you’d go out on a drive with me and never be the same again.”

“Ha.” She rolls her eyes, and I’m chuckling and reaching out to push her hair back.

“I’m into you, girl,” I rasp, shifting to stare into her eyes.

“Yeah?” she breathes.

“You know it,” I say, swooping down to kiss her, but before I do, I force myself to hold back and tease her. “And because I’m clearly sweeping you off your feet, I thought it fair to warn you of some of my more unsavory traits.”

“Oh, wow, thank you, that’s thoughtful.”

I start counting with my fingers. “I’m a very light sleeper, and I like the room to be so damn cold a morgue couldn’t compete. I’m also stubborn as fuck; I always get my way.”

“Are you going to get your way with the championship?” she taunts.

“Watch me get my way.” I grin.

She laughs, her eyes sparkling and flooded with happiness, her cheeks so pink I can notice her flush in the dark.

“We’re doing well with the championship,” she says, setting her bottle aside.

“Second place is not good enough,” I say, staring out at the Thames. “It’s first or it’s nothing, as far as I’m concerned.”

She eyes me in wonder, then out at the city as she draws her knees up to her chin and takes a sip of her wine. “Clark will play dirty.”

I shrug, taking a long gulp of my bottle too as I lean back on my elbows. “I can play all kinds of ways.”

“Did you always want to race?”

“Always.” I wink at her. “Since I was a tiny thing, I grew obsessed with cars. The noise they make, fuck it turns me on,” I growl, and she laughs, her eyes heavy.

“You broke the law for years just so you could get away with racing.”

“I’m not ashamed of it.”

She’s quiet. “Does it help with the BP?”

“I think so, yes.”

She nods and smiles sadly. “The year you were diagnosed, I think that was the year David died.”

Our eyes meet. My girl. She’s MY girl. And she’s still hurting and I can’t make it go away. “I’m sorry,” I say, straightening.

Maybe he was meant to love her for a time, but I’m loving her forever.

I shift my arm and pull her close, and I raise the volume of my phone, and the car volume hikes up.

I pull her to my chest, and she sets her bottle aside and snuggles close to me, and I growl against her hair.

My senses heighten with the addictive scent of her, feel of her, look of her. I just want more. I know that when you’re in a life-or-death situation, your senses clear, your mind is sharp as fuck—every detail stored in your mind because one of those details can mean the difference between life and death.

Happens when I’m racing.

Happens when she’s around. Because every detail of her, every fucking word, every thing about her, is fucking life.

“I want to taste you,” I gruff in her ear.

Her eyes widen.

“I want your pussy melting beneath my mouth and the rest of you, too. “

I tug her skirt up to her waist, revealing her violet-colored lace panties.

“Racer.” She’s trembling.

“Would you like that, Lana?”

“I think so.”

“Then take my hand, baby. Go on. Take it and show me your favorite places, show my fingers.” She does. Taking my fingers to her nipples. I growl, squeezing. “Now my mouth.”

She takes my head and guides it to her belly button.

I set a kiss there, tracing her belly button with my tongue.

She gasps and guides my head even lower, parting her legs. I ease up and smile down at her, easing her panty aside with my thumb.

She’s shaking as she watches me go back down to those soft, sweet curls.

I lick her.

One long lick.

She gasps and shifts beneath me, getting closer to me, and I kneel before her; I grab her by the hips and part her legs, sliding down to bury my mouth in her sweet-as-peach sex once more.

This time I don’t come up for air; don’t fucking want it.

I drag my tongue up and down, her taste addictive. Perfect. Fucking drugging. She smells like warm girl, my warm girl, and tastes better than fresh rain.