Burning Rubber: Extreme Racing, Book 2

by Pamela Britton

  “Just one?” the hostess said, marking something down on her seating chart before Derrick could reply otherwise.

  “Actually,” he scanned the interior. The tables were arranged along the front side of the building. “I’m meeting someone. Ah. There she is.” He’d spotted the back of Callie’s head.

  He headed off without waiting for a retort although as he approached, he felt his steps slow.

  Now what?

  Maybe he really should have brought flowers.

  Instead he said, “Hey, Callie,” turning to face her with what he hoped was a pleasant smile on his face and not a sickly grimace that belied his nerves.

  Nervous?

  Crazy as it might seem, that’s exactly what he was.

  It didn’t make him feel any better to watch her mouth drop open. To spy the way her eyes widened behind her glasses, only to immediately narrow. “Don’t tell me you followed me here.”

  “Actually, I did.” He slipped into the seat opposite her with a squeak of vinyl. Water already sat on the table and since his mouth felt as dry as the Sahara Desert, he scooped the glass toward him and quickly took a swig.

  She didn’t say anything at first, her chin slowly swinging from side to side. Then she tipped her head to the left, a look of open curiosity on her face. That was yet another thing he liked about her. He could always tell exactly what she was thinking.

  “Are you that desperate?”

  He choked, the swig of water in his throat feeling like a ball of lead. “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me. I mean, I suppose it’s possible you’re here to congratulate me about this afternoon, but somehow I doubt that.”

  Was he that obvious?

  Apparently, he was.

  Oddly enough, he didn’t feel the least bit abashed. He leaned back in the booth, placed his hands on the table. What was wrong with laying it all out in the open? It’d be a refreshing change.

  “I told you what I wanted from you weeks ago.”

  “And I told you it’s a bad idea.”

  “Didn’t seem so bad when I was kissing you last night.”

  She was back to squinting at him again. He reached across the table and took the glasses from her face.

  “Hey,” she admonished

  “I’ve been dying to do that all day.”

  She made a grab for the frames. He put the things on the seat next to him.

  “Give those back to me.”

  “Not yet. I want to see into your eyes.”

  “And I need to see.”

  “You’re farsighted, but your vision isn’t too bad close up. You mostly wear these as a defense mechanism.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You don’t want men to notice how attractive you are, probably because you’ve had to work hard to keep your sexuality at bay. If you used as much paint as Veronica the Pirahnica, men would see what a beauty you are. You’d be fighting them off with a stick instead of being treated with the respect you’re due.”

  She leaned against her seat. “Is that what you think?” she asked, although it wasn’t really a question.

  “But here’s the thing, I wouldn’t give a shit if you were as ugly as a crone. It’s your mind I’m attracted to.”

  That got a reaction, although not the one he was looking for. She threw back her head and laughed. “Yeah, right.”

  “Seriously,” he immediately contradicted, making a grab for her hands. He caught them, clutching them tightly. “I’m smitten. I want to get to know you, Callie. Yeah, I’d like to go to bed with you. I won’t deny it. But I’m sensitive to your concerns.” He released her hands, leaned back. “So we’ll take it slow.”

  For now, he privately added. Until after dinner. When he walked her back to her room. Then he’d make his move.

  That he promised.

  Chapter Twelve

  He was a perfect gentleman the rest of the evening, but Callie knew he had something up his sleeve. His eyes held a gleam, one she knew she shouldn’t trust, but that elevated her pulse nonetheless. It was twisted. She knew it. She shouldn’t be titillated by his dishonesty. He was just trying to play her.

  Take it slow, indeed.

  He was going to make a move on her tonight. She just knew it.

  And she wanted him to.

  Fool.

  Veronica would have her head. Funny thing, though. After today’s test, Callie knew the X-TREME league would work. And so the hell with Veronica. She’d stolen enough of her thunder.

  “Think I’ll head back to my room.” She stood up suddenly.

  Derrick’s brows shot up. “But I haven’t paid the bill yet.”

  “I know. That’ll give me time to freshen up.”

  If she’d thought his eyes had widened before, that was nothing compared to the look on his face now. Callie actually had to hold back a laugh.

  “Here’s my room card.” She waved the thing in front of him. “290. See you in a few.”

  She turned away before she could change her mind, but not before the expression on Derrick’s face changed to one giant glob of anticipation. The heat in his eyes could have blasted a hole in the side of a mountain. What would it be like to have him kiss her again?

  She was about to find out.

  “Wait.” He threw some bills on the table. It was a wad of cash—probably too much—he apparently didn’t care. “I’ll walk with you.”

  Probably afraid she’d change her mind. He must not know how hard her heart pounded. How her hands shook. How just knowing he was about to follow her to her room made electricity dance along her nerve endings. If he had known he wouldn’t have been so worried. She might be about to make the biggest mistake of her life, but today—the day she’d watched a car of her own creation zip around a race track—she just didn’t care.

  And he’d driven that car.

  For some strange reason that made it all the more erotic.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to freshen up too?”

  His eyes swept her up and down as he fell into step alongside of her. “We can freshen up together.”

  Lord, he was good.

  She had to turn away to keep him from seeing how his words affected her. Still, she would bet he could see the radiant glow of her cheeks. She was like a damn lightening rod. If he’d held a voltage meter toward her, he would have heard the thing ping off the charts, especially with him right next to her like he was. His gaze rested upon her as they left the restaurant.

  She must have changed her mind half a dozen times as she crossed the parking lot. In the end it was the thought of Veronica that sealed the deal. Just once she’d like to trump the woman. Just once she’d like to be the one to get the man. So when she reached her hotel room door, she jerked the card through the electronic slider quickly, the door opening with a beep. She used her hip to push the thing wide open. She didn’t even give him a moment to step through before turning back to him and jerking him into the room.

  “Hey,” he shot in surprise.

  “Strip.”

  His brows lifted up to his hairline. “Excuse me?”

  “Before I change my mind.”

  Her fingers tingled the adrenaline rushed through her so fiercely. Still, she took the fatal first step. Without giving herself time to think, she tossed her glasses on a nearby table and then jerked her black polo shirt from the waistband of her jeans. It slid off at the same time the door clicked closed behind her. Cool air caused goose pimples to sprout across her abdomen. It was either that or the way his gaze dropped to her breasts. His eyes seemed to narrow slightly, and then begin to glitter in a way that was pure, unadulterated, sexual interest.

  Derrick Derringer wanted to screw her.

  Wicked, horrible, naughty word, “screw”, but she wasn’t about to kid herself. There was no gooey look of love on his face. No softness. No tenderness.

  He wanted her.

  Anticipated spreading her legs and thrusting into her. She could see that on his face.

&
nbsp; She dashed over to the window and jerked the drapes closed. When she turned back, he’d stripped out his shirt too, and the reality of Derrick Derringer without his shirt was much better than the magazine spread she’d perused once upon a time.

  “I’m scared.” The words popped out of her mouth before she could stop them. “I mean, I’m not scared of having sex with you. I’ve had sex with men before. So it’s not like I’m a virgin or anything. I just don’t have a lot of experience. My engine’s not very broken in—if you catch my drift.”

  She was rambling. She knew it. Was helpless to stop it.

  His hands dropped to his waist. He slid the metal button of his jeans free.

  “I mean, I have a few hours on my motor, but nothing to write home about. So if you’re expecting great things—”

  He wasn’t wearing his boxers today.

  She about swallowed wrong. She would have figured him to be the boxer type, not brief.

  “Get undressed, Callie.”

  “Oh, um, sure.”

  Suddenly she was horribly, ridiculously shy. That was his penis jutting out there—and Derrick had a large one. “But I warn you, it’s been awhile.”

  He closed the distance between them. Callie almost choked again.

  “I wouldn’t care if you’ve never had sex in your life.”

  Given her past history with men, that statement wasn’t too far off the mark.

  “Can I kiss you?”

  Could he kiss her? She almost laughed.

  “Sure.” She stood there in her pants and bra and wondered if he wanted her to get undressed before or after he kissed her—

  Then he bent his head.

  She knew then he was in no hurry to see her naked, that he was actually taking things kind of slow because he didn’t kiss her lickety-split. He took his time, snuggling up next to her, the knowledge that his…well, his you-know hung between them, causing her to blush. And to burn. And to lose the ability to breathe.

  He drew back, peered into her eyes. “Don’t be scared.”

  He kissed her again. Softly, tenderly, gently kissed her, his lips so smooth and so warm for a second she wondered if it was real. Then the pressure increased and his breath whispered against her face and she knew she wasn’t dreaming and that Derrick Derringer—NASCAR star—was about to make her toes curl in pleasure.

  Her body trembled. It made his heart melt. There could be no other explanation as to why he felt a pool of warmth—not down below—but in his chest. Right beneath is rib cage. Maybe that was why his breath caught as he kissed her because suddenly he couldn’t breathe. Suddenly, he felt the most indescribable urge to pull back. To just hold her. To relish this brief moment in time when she was his to have.

  “Callie,” he murmured against her lips.

  Softly, as if whispered on a breath, his name was repeated back to him. “Derrick.”

  He guided her to the bed. Gently. He didn’t want to scare her, because if she knew how hard it was for him not to scoop her up in his arms, to rip her clothes off and take her right then, it might frighten her all the more. He’d never felt such a conflicting mass of emotions for a woman before. On one hand he wanted to kiss her senseless. To ravish her—a silly word that he’d never used before. On the other hand he wanted to savor each moment.

  The back of her legs hit the bed. He knew he could pressure her onto it, but he was surprised to note he liked taking it slow. Even just touching his lips to hers. He hadn’t even parted her mouth yet, but he could have inhaled her sweet breath all day.

  She was the one to open her mouth.

  It unleashed a need in him that rocked him with its intensity. Her tongue slid between his lips, the heat of her seeping into his mouth, his crotch throbbing in response. He still refused to rush things. Marveled at how content he was to stand there and kiss her.

  She was the one to move. The one to drop her kisses to his chin, then the side of his neck, and then his chest, his whole body growing rigid when she didn’t stop there. Oh, no. She dropped even lower, pausing for a moment by his nipple, then moving ever closer to his belly and—ah, God—she was going to do it wasn’t she? She was going to take him in her mouth.

  “Callie,” he groaned.

  He shouldn’t be surprised, he thought. If anyone was the type to be the aggressor, it was Callie. When her tongue caressed the tip of him, he should have been prepared for the effect it would have on him.

  He wasn’t.

  He about shot his load right then and there.

  “Callie,” he moaned in part warning, part horror. What the hell was wrong with him? Never, ever had he—

  She took him in her mouth.

  “Holy crap…Callie,” he warned, trying to pull back before it was too late.

  She wouldn’t let him go.

  Or was he incapable of halting things? To be honest, he didn’t know what he wanted. All he knew was the sweet pleasure of her lips was something he didn’t want to stop. When she took a hold of him next, her hand mimicking the motion of her mouth, he died and went to heaven a thousand times over.

  “Crap,” he heard himself mutter at the same time he rested his hands on her head. Not to stop her. No. To encourage her. To run his fingers through her hair as she worked her mouth up and down his shaft.

  “I’m going to lose it, Callie,” he warned.

  She either didn’t hear him or she didn’t care and Derrick knew he’d spoken the truth. He would spill himself in her mouth if he didn’t stop things soon.

  “Callie,” he warned again.

  She pulled away, Derrick nearly groaning. “I want you to come,” she said softly.

  The words nearly caused him to do exactly that.

  “Not now.” His hands still stroked her dark hair. “Not yet.”

  “Yes, now.” She took him in her mouth again.

  “Callie,” he hissed this time because he was there. Right there. On the verge. His legs had begun to tremble.

  Somehow, she managed to take all of him, the warm depths of her mouth capturing every last inch and all he could do was mutter, “Oh, shit,” as he leaned his head back, the ceiling turning into a white blob above his head. “Callie,” he groaned, his hips following her motion.

  And then he came.

  He couldn’t stop it, tried, failed, a cry of pleasure seeming to be wrenched out of him.

  She took him. All of him. Every last drop.

  “Shit,” he heard himself mutter as the spasms slowly faded. “Shit, shit, shit.”

  He heard the knocking then.

  Actually, it was more of a bang. Several bangs. Then the words, “Hey! What’s going on in there?”

  Callie looked up at him, moist lips parted, a glimmer of horror in her eyes.

  “No way.”

  Way, he silently countered. There was little doubt who was on the other side of the door.

  Veronica the Pirahnica.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Open the door, Callie.”

  No, no, no. This could not be happening.

  “I know you’re in there.”

  “Don’t move,” she hissed up at Derrick, making a dive for her top an instant later. Maybe she could hide Derrick in the bathroom.

  “And I know Derrick’s in there with you.”

  Okay, so maybe not. Maybe they should just not move. Maybe Veronica would go away.

  “And if you don’t open the door, I’ll have the manager do it for me. Or have you forgotten this is one of the hotel chains my family owns?”

  Oh, good Lord. She wouldn’t go that far, would she?

  This is Veronica we’re talking about.

  “Stay,” Callie warned Derrick. She slowly stood. Lord, he was still naked.

  She’d sucked him like a Pixie Stick

  “No. Get dressed,” she hissed. Because she wouldn’t put it past Veronica to barge into the room. She’d done it before.

  “Just a second, Veronica,” Callie called as she slid her polo shirt over her head. Than
k God it wasn’t a button down. It was relatively easy to tuck the thing into the waistband of her pants. She was about ready to cross to the door when she suddenly darted back and grabbed the TV remote. She clicked the On button, biting back an oath of frustration when she had to punch buttons to get to the actual television programs. She scrolled through her options, looking for something to do with sports. Anything sport-like. Preferably something that dealt with grunting.

  A football game came up. Perfect.

  Derrick was just pulling on his shirt when she turned back. She slowed her steps so she could open the door right as he finished, stalling for a moment as she fumbled with the privacy chain—as if it’d been attached instead of merely hanging there in disuse.

  “Veronica, hi.” Callie tucked her hair behind her ear. “Wow. I sure didn’t expect to see you.”

  Veronica’s stunning green eyes glittered. It really wasn’t fair someone so beautiful could have such an ugly heart.

  “I bet.” She took a step toward Callie, obviously expecting Callie to move out of the way because she nearly collided with Callie’s chest when Callie did the exact opposite.

  “Is there something I could do for you?” Callie asked, smiling up at her boss politely.

  “You can let me into your room.” Clearly impatient Veronica tried to wedge her way through again.

  “Actually, now’s not a good time.”

  Which caused Veronica to step back, her long, red hair swishing over one shoulder. She crossed her arms. “I bet.” Her eyes raked her up and down. “How long have you two been going at it?”

  “I beg your pardon?” Callie asked, feigning innocence.

  “Give me a break, Callie. I could hear him.”

  “What?” she asked again. Man. She should be nominated for an Academy Award. “Oh, that. It was just the TV.” She stepped back a fraction of an inch so Veronica could see the TV playing. “I turned it down. I’m actually in the middle of reviewing today’s test results and I wanted a little white noise.”

  Veronica’s jaw tensed. Callie could tell she’d lost patience. “You’re fucking Derrick.” She thrust her upper body forward. “Derrick, you in there? Don’t worry. I won’t fire your little Playboy Bunny.”