Racetrack Romance BOX SET (Books 1-3)

by Bev Pettersen

  Slowly she relaxed, savoring his familiar smell, her sense of security whenever he was around. She felt the release of her bra, then the pressure of his fingers as he massaged her back. She arched into him, liking his touch. His arousal was obvious but it seemed so right, so natural, her self-consciousness eased.

  His hands moved to her breasts, molding them to his palms, and when he stroked her nipples she quivered with awareness, wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed closer. And it didn’t matter anymore that he might forget her in a month, a week, a day.

  She’d expected her relationship with her boyfriend to last, but that had burst when Jared left, along with her lifelong dream for a real family. Dino, at least, was honest. When she was with him, he made her feel like she was the only girl in the world. And that was enough. Transition sex was a wonderful thing.

  She quit thinking as his tongue explored her mouth, sending tingles along her spine. He undid the last of her buttons, and then his clever fingers were everywhere. She slid her hand beneath his shirt, feeling his heat, his ridges, and a contented sound escaped from deep in her throat.

  He eased her back as his mouth closed over her nipple. Ripples of pleasure shot to her toes. He tugged off his shirt but continued sucking, until the throbbing between her legs ached. She heard the clink of his belt, the unzipping of her pants, a lift and a tug, then air chilled her bare skin. He could be a nurse, she thought inanely, with his obvious skill at clothes removal. She automatically closed her legs, but he didn’t seem concerned. His warm mouth rasped over her chest, honing again on her nipples, pleasure and pain at the same time, and she didn’t want it to stop.

  She’d never known her breasts were so sensitive, so connected to the ache pooling between her legs. An insistent knee pushed her thighs apart. She tensed but his hand slipped lower, sweeping her with startling pleasure and her legs parted as though possessing a mind of their own.

  Her groan startled her, raw, impatient, needy. This was definitely not the kind of foreplay she’d had with Jared. This hit a whole new level. She pulled at his shoulders, not wanting him to move his head from her breasts, but his hand was driving her crazy and she wanted more. Much more.

  She writhed against him, realized her breath was coming in pants. He lifted his head, covering her mouth in a deep kiss that seemed to stroke her soul.

  She felt his hardness and rose against him, welcoming the intrusion. But he was big and she hadn’t had sex in five years and couldn’t help but stiffen. His mouth returned to her nipple and his bold hand stroked her until she yanked at his shoulders, urging him closer.

  Slowly he pushed in, filling her with his maleness. He lifted her legs, hooked them around his hips and drove deeper, heating her body with long, even strokes. She gripped his back, eyes clenched. God, it was incredibly good. She didn’t care now if lights were on, didn’t even care if cameras flashed. Obviously he was a professional lover and if having lots of girlfriends resulted in this brain-blowing sex, she didn’t begrudge him the practice.

  “Don’t ever stop,” she whispered fiercely, stupidly. Of course he’d have to stop sometime, but rising waves of pleasure overrode rational thought.

  His strokes grew harder, faster. She buried her head in his shoulder, crying out as her body spasmed around him. He gave a final thrust, his grip tightening and his big body relaxed.

  He rolled to the side, pulling her to him. “You okay?” he murmured.

  Okay? She pressed against his damp chest, glad it was too dark to see. She was way more than okay. And now it was clear why all the women chased him. It wasn’t his looks at all. Not his good humor. Not his kindness.

  She didn’t have a lot of experience with sex but if she were to rank her two men, Jared would be a two and Dino a ten. Actually she had better drop Jared to a one and Dino to a nine and a half. Martha said it was always wise to leave room for improvement.

  Her ragged breathing threaded with unease. Maybe he ranked his lovers too? Maybe he’d just given her a one.

  “You okay?” he repeated. There was no mistaking the concern in his voice.

  “Wonderful,” she said quickly.

  “You are wonderful.” His hand slid beneath her hair, stroking the base of her neck. The gruffness in his tone chased away her insecurities. He sounded sincere. And of course, Martha was right. Sex was never bad for a guy. Yes, he was the perfect man to help with her naked phobia. Shouldn’t take more than a month or so.

  He moved. Click.

  Light flooded the room and she flailed in panic, yanking the sheet to her neck. “Turn it off,” she yelped.

  “It’s just us, honey. No worries.” He disposed of his condom then calmly wrapped the sheet around them both and pulled her to him, holding her close, saying nothing. Just being there.

  Slowly her heart stopped its panicked hammering.

  His hand traced her cheek. “How many times did that cockroach take pictures?”

  “Whenever his wife was gone, he’d grab his camera and look for someone. We’d try to hide. Make ourselves invisible.” Her voice sounded rusty. “But when he locked the basement door and brightened the lights, we were terrified.” She shrugged helplessly. “I’m sorry.”

  He tilted her chin, his face calm and reassuring. “It’s okay. He’s been out of your life awhile. Come on. I know what you need.” He scooped her up, ignoring her protests, totally relaxed with nakedness. And no wonder. He was beautiful. Dark hair shadowed his chest, running in a line down his muscled stomach. She tried to peek lower, but her head was tucked too close to his shoulder.

  She gave a little squeal but even to her, the protest sounded feeble. After all, it was just the two of them. And she felt safe, liked the feel of his rough palms on her skin, his easy assurance as he carried her effortlessly down the hall and into the bathroom.

  “In you go.” He deposited her in the shower and slid the door shut. Turned on the water, adjusted the shower head and picked up a bar of soap.

  His confident hands on her back, combined with the warm soapy water, soothed her lingering inhibitions. It was quite delightful. The pulsing water, the perfect temperature, the tang of masculine soap. Her shoulders lowered, and she closed her eyes in trust.

  “Turn around, honey,” he said. So she did. His hands slid over her slick breasts, then returned to linger and the rasp of his calloused palm made her nipples tingle all over again. She cracked open her eyes, staring at him beneath the sluicing water. He looked like a Greek god, a slightly disreputable one, his eyes dark and heavy lidded as he admired her body. And she didn’t feel a bit dirty. She felt beautiful. Bold and beautiful.

  “Let me.” She slid the soap from his hand. Dragged the bar over the front of his rippled chest, along his flat stomach, following the trail of dark hair. Heard his sharp intake of breath as she moved lower. Exploring. Lingering.

  The soap slid from her hand as she cupped him. She watched, fascinated, when he thickened in her hand. She kneeled and tentatively ran her tongue over the bulbous tip. He was fresh and clean and wonderful. Slowly she took him in her mouth.

  The muscles in his thighs strained under her hand. He reached out and flattened his palms against the wall but otherwise didn’t move, didn’t push or force her mouth deeper, not like Jared had done. Simply waited as she explored him beneath the pulsing water.

  And now he was so huge he really did look like a Greek god. She looked up, unable to hide a mischievous grin.

  He abruptly turned, jammed open the shower door and fumbled in a drawer. Ripped open a condom and rolled it on. She wasn’t sure how he was going to manage sex in the slippery shower, but clearly he was comfortable with the procedure. And then he picked her up, braced her against the wall and it wasn’t difficult at all.

  Her legs wrapped around his hips and he entered her fast and hard, making her gasp from the intrusion. He slowed but only to yank her legs higher.

  “Sorry,” he muttered, his voice hoarse. “Next time I’ll make it better for you.”
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br />   The cords in his neck bulged, his eyes half closed, but he found her breast and when his urgent mouth closed around her nipple, waves of pleasure jolted her. She jerked in response but couldn’t move, her back pressed against the wall, legs spread wide as he drove deeper, and it was all so primal she whimpered with need.

  She clenched the straining muscles in his back, wanting more, needing more, but when his teeth skimmed over her nipple, coiling waves swept her. She jerked against him, her muscles quivering from the unexpected climax.

  He shuddered over her in a last powerful thrust, his body shaking. It was surprising he had enough strength to stand. She was boneless, limp to her toes, yet he was still buried. She should have felt vulnerable, her legs splayed around his back, no clothes in sight, but the only thing she felt was damn good.

  And he’d said he would make the next time better. Oh, wow. She kissed his shoulder in complete gratitude.

  “Wow, indeed,” he said and she realized she’d spoken out loud. He was looking at her, his face relaxed, almost boyish, and it was then she realized how much stress he carried. He tilted her chin and kissed her. “You’re wonderful, sweetie.”

  He slid out, lowering her feet to the shower floor. She abruptly felt bereft. He’d already turned to adjust the shower head, already moved on to the washing procedure with quick, efficient strokes. The water sprayed over them, washing away the smell of passion and sex. Washing away the intimacy.

  Her throat tightened; she blinked away the tightness behind her eyes. It shouldn’t bother her that he was used to showering with company, that he kept a supply of condoms in the bathroom. After all, she was using him to get over a few tiny issues of her own.

  She’d already made considerable progress too—standing naked in the shower, lights on, not a bit uptight. She hadn’t even thought about Craig, although she probably needed a lot more practice, needed to ensure this new comfort level was totally ingrained.

  Dino slid open the shower door, grabbed an oversized blue towel and wrapped it around her. “Need anything else?”

  “No. I think I was well provided for.”

  He smiled and slid a kiss across her mouth. “I mean shampoo, conditioner. There’s stuff beneath the sink.”

  She managed to keep smiling even thought that pesky lump filled her throat. He had lots of women—she knew that—but now a traitorous jealousy gnawed at her insides, an emotion it would be folly to reveal.

  “Thanks. I’ll just be a couple more minutes.” She turned away, pretending to adjust the towel.

  She waited until the bathroom door shut then stepped from the shower and peeked beneath the sink. Her heart sank. It was worse than expected. Fancy containers jammed the storage space—high-end stuff too, not many drug store products. She scanned the labels: conditioners, shampoo, three types of tampons, two hair dryers, and a wrinkled magazine featuring a tanned Jennifer Aniston on the cover. January issue.

  Greta had been here in January. Maybe some of this stuff was hers. Some might be Stephanie’s, although maybe a container or two belonged to that dark-haired girl who’d mauled Dino at the kitchen. Or some could belong to the beautiful but bitchy reporter.

  Or it could be any number of unknown women.

  She quietly closed the cupboard door. She didn’t care. After all, she wanted the same thing. This relationship was about sex, and that was perfect. Absolutely perfect.

  She clamped her mouth and toweled herself dry, then wrapped it around her chest, sarong style. Generally she used moisturizer after a shower, but tonight she’d skip that step. She glared at the cupboard. No way was she going to use any of that stuff. Who even knew what kind of order it was in? It wouldn’t do to mix January’s with June.

  Impulsively, she bent back down and rearranged the containers in alphabetical order. She even hummed when she emerged from the bathroom.

  Dino’s lingering appraisal made her heart thump. “Pizza or Chinese?” he asked. “I heated both.”

  He appeared naked behind the counter, and it was hard to drag her eyes off his impressive chest. However, she made a concerted effort to study the pizza. Looked pretty good. Lots of cheese. Her gaze darted back. He had a small scar on the side of his ribs that she hadn’t noticed earlier. She craned over the counter, trying to see if he really was naked, or if he had a towel wrapped around those lean hips.

  “Pizza?”

  “Um, yes, please.” She dragged her gaze back to the pizza.

  “You look hungry.” He tossed two slices on a plate and slid it across the counter. “Beer, wine?”

  A case of beer sat on the counter. On the far side of the kitchen, a compact wine rack squatted next to the liquor cabinet. Only fifteen feet away, and there was an unobstructed view.

  “Red wine, please,” she said primly.

  He walked toward the wine rack, and she blew out her disappointment. He wore sweat pants. Gray, low on his hips, although he definitely had a beautiful back. She’d felt it, of course, but seeing the hard contours, the ripples, even the contrasting color of his skin, made her insides melt.

  “Okay?” He was holding up a bottle and obviously had asked a question. She nodded blankly but he walked around the counter, wine and corkscrew in his hand, his concerned eyes on her face. “You comfortable, honey? You seem distracted. Want a bathrobe?”

  She smiled, relieved he had no idea how much she enjoyed looking at him, thought she was worried about clothes. Yet oddly, she was comfortable wearing the towel, at least around him. And it almost reached her knees, probably covered as much as a bathrobe. Besides his robe would be so big, she’d trip in it.

  Unless he had others.

  Her smile faded. “Do you have one that would fit?”

  “There’s some in the spare bedroom,” he said. “They’d fit.”

  She pretended absorption in the corkscrew as he deftly opened the bottle. “Girls sure leave a lot of stuff here,” she said, keeping her voice casual.

  “A lot of it was here when I came,” he said, his attention on the wine. “Comes in handy though. There’s a pair of leather riding boots in the closet you can try.” He passed her the wine glass and checked her bare feet. “Size six, right?”

  She nodded, glad her toenails gleamed from the recent pedicure, but reluctant to borrow an old girlfriend’s boots. If they were left by a past trainer, that was different. She didn’t know why it mattered—after all, she was just using him for sex—but it did.

  She twirled the stem of her glass, trying to imagine his social life. “How long were you married?” she blurted.

  “Eight years. Two were happy.” He pulled up a chair and grabbed a piece of pizza, totally at ease. “It wasn’t all Laura’s fault. Training is demanding, and it made her miserable. I’ll never marry again.”

  “Don’t you want children?” She nibbled on a slice of pizza, pretending to concentrate on the cheese as it stretched in a thin line. “I mean, not now, but sometime down the road?”

  “Never felt the urge. Horses fill that hole.”

  He didn’t return her questions. She’d already noticed that if he didn’t care, he didn’t ask. A relief, really. His face would have blanched if she admitted she wanted a husband, three kids, and a yellow Lab to chase sticks in their backyard.

  But of course, she didn’t want that now. And as Martha had said, she needed to get out, have fun, gain a little confidence. He was only a stepping stone. The fact that she was so comfortable with him was a bonus. In fact, she realized, adjusting the knot in her towel, she was as comfortable with him as she was with Martha.

  “Another slice?” His voice was husky, his eyes lowering to watch her hands.

  “No, thanks. I’m full.”

  “I, on the other hand,” he stepped closer, “can’t seem to get enough.” He tilted her head with a finger. His warm lips skimmed over her collarbone. She steadied her hand on the counter, trying not to move as that slow mouth drifted along her shoulder, leaving her breathless.

  He wasn’t even
touching her, except with his mouth, but already she swayed on the stool. And now he toyed with an earlobe.

  She slid off the stool and leaned into him. A flick of his finger and the towel dropped to the floor, settling over her pink toes.

  “We’re doing pretty good working on this clothes hang-up.” His thumb brushed the bottom of her breast. “But there’s a couple more things I should show you.”

  “Is this something best shown in the bedroom?” she murmured, standing on her tiptoes and pressing her lips against his cheek.

  “Absolutely.”

  “Good,” she said.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Dino pried his eyes open and checked the bedside clock, surprised it was already five a.m. Years of waking at four had left him with an ingrained habit. He never overslept. Except today. He raised his arms and stretched, not tired, just completely and utterly satisfied.

  Rarely had he had a better lover. Or a more generous one. Becky certainly didn’t worry about hiding that sexy body anymore. He reached over, feeling for her, but already sensed he was alone. He rose, pulled on a pair of jeans and padded from the bedroom.

  Light filtered from the living room. She was curled in the armchair, staring intently at his computer screen. Unfortunately, she was dressed.

  He touched her shoulder. She reached back and squeezed his hand. “They’re feeding breakfast,” she said. “Gosh, Lyric’s a fast eater. She’s already finished her grain.”

  “We’re supposed to be watching Echo,” he said dryly. “The mare that’s racing tomorrow.”

  Her laugh was quick and infectious, but she kept her attention on the screen. “I’m watching them both. But Lyric is much more entertaining.”

  He didn’t realize he still held her hand until she tugged it away and pointed at the screen. “Look at her trying to sneak out the door when the groom checks the water.”

  “Fascinating,” he drawled, watching her face. She hadn’t really looked at him yet, had given no hint they’d just shared a very special night. Maybe she didn’t realize how good it had been. He was positive he’d made her come three or four times. In fact, he was getting hard just remembering her throaty whimpers.