The official issued instructions for the competitors to prepare for the start.
This is it. Let everything go but the race. What will be will be.
Assuming his starting position, the thumping of his heart echoed in his ears. Sweat trickled down his back. He inhaled and blew out a breath, pushing the stress out with it.
“Take your mark.”
The gun fired, and his body sprung into action. Three and three quarter laps of the 400m track.
Slow and steady in the first lap. Size up your opponents.
Len’s instructions pounded in his mind as his feet hit the track. A quick glance to the side, and he could see who was running purely on adrenaline and who was pacing himself.
The key was not to get locked in the middle of the pack with no room to get out. The pace was fast, but he wasn’t overexerting himself. He knew to get through to the semis, his time was just as important as winning the heat.
One lap down.
The field was starting to spread out. Drake increased his pace. In the back of his mind, he could hear the crowd yelling. He could hear them chanting USA! USA!. But he wasn’t letting it get to him. He wasn’t going to get caught up in the outside noise and forget the fundamentals of racing.
A runner entered his peripheral vision. He dug deep and upped his pace, increasing his stride. His rhythm and timing were perfect. His knee was behaving. With three hundred meters to go, the track was clear and free in front of him. The rasping of racers catching their breath and the thumping of feet behind him began to fade. Just a little bit further.
Fifty meters.
Thirty meters.
Ten meters.
There it was.
Finish line.
He crossed it in a rush. He’d won his heat. He ran a few more meters, decreasing his pace until he slowed to a walk. His chest heaved as he sucked in air.
A slap on the back had him turning and smiling at a Jamaican runner. He had no idea who had placed behind him.
“Nice race,” he said.
“Thanks. You too.”
The other runners came up to him. He looked at the screen to check his time. Not a personal best, but the best he’d achieved since his injury. He’d made the semi-finals.
The stadium noise filtered back into his consciousness as his race zone faded away like the morning mist. He immediately looked to the stands. He could see Mitch and some of the other team cheering and waving at him. But one face was missing.
Tamara.
Had he really thought she would be there? He’d hoped she would. But after what he’d said to her earlier, her non-attendance shouldn’t disappoint him so much. He knew what he had to do. He only hoped it wasn’t too late.
10
Tamara grabbed her jacket and handbag from the small armchair in her room, checking she had everything she needed for the evening in her purse. After picking up her ID and slinging it around her neck, she was ready to meet TJ and the other guys on the trainer team for a quick bite to eat.
The day had been successful, with a couple of gold medals and most of the athletes getting through their races and events without injury.
She’d managed to catch the end of Drake’s heat to see him win and advance through to the semis. She’d been pleased for him, even though he’d been a complete jerk to her when they’d talked at the track. It had probably been stupid of her to approach him, but he’d looked so troubled. She couldn’t imagine the thoughts that went through athletes’ minds during the Olympics. One simple mistake could end their Olympic dream. The world’s eyes on them as they competed. And not just the people in the stadiums, but with the television coverage, millions more watching to see if their favorite athlete won.
Still she hadn’t deserved his harsh words. Since their last kiss, they’d settled into an easy, fun relationship. She thought their friendship had deepened. Obviously, she’d been wrong.
Why the heck was she spending time worrying about Drake Roberts?
Because you like him, and want to kiss him again. And maybe a little more.
Tamara shushed the voice in her head. The worst thing she could do would be to listen to that little voice. Every day she’d been with Drake, helping him over his injury, she’d been fighting not to give into the desire building within her. The desire to kiss him. The desire to change her touch from a healing one to an intimate one. The desire to forget her personal rule and take a risk getting involved with someone she was treating.
A knock on the door halted her thoughts. Without thinking she wrenched it open.
“Drake!” It was impossible to keep the surprise out of her voice. “You’re the last person I expected to see. Is everything okay?”
“Can I come in?” his voice was soft and floated over her like a warm blanket. A blanket she wanted to wrap around herself and spend the night cuddled up in.
“I’m about to head out to dinner.”
“It won’t take long.”
There was a stillness about Drake she found a little off-putting. Once he’d gotten over his reluctance to receive her help, he’d been friendly and happy with her. That is, if you didn’t count their earlier encounter today, when surliness had been his middle name.
Tamara gave her watch a quick glance—whichever way she looked at it, she was going to be late. So what if it was fifteen minutes instead of five.
“Sure, come in.” She took a step back, opening the door to her room wider. As he passed her, the familiar musky scent of his cologne filled her senses. This could be a mistake.
A small room.
A bed.
The two of them—alone.
Yep, letting him in was a big mistake.
Get a grip, she scolded herself. They’d been alone in rooms before, with Drake wearing less than the jeans, t-shirt and light jacket he was currently wearing.
She kept her back against the door, slouching in an effort to look relaxed. The exact opposite to the tension clinging around her like a climbing vine.
The silence stretched between them. Why didn’t he say something? Did he expect her to start the conversation? What would she say, anyway? He was the one who came to her, not the other way around.
“Okay, this is harder than I thought it would be.”
“You didn’t seem at a loss for words this morning.”
He winced as her barb hit its mark. Was it a low blow? Probably, but she had places to go.
Drake took two steps toward her. Okay, so maybe standing with her back against the door wasn’t the greatest of ideas. Any closer and full body contact would be unavoidable. She shivered at the thought of a full body slam from Drake.
Shit, she should not have invited him in.
“I’m sorry, Tam.” His hand cupped her cheek, and little by little her resistance to him began to crumble. “I shouldn’t have said what I did this morning. You’re right, you’re the only reason I was out on there today.”
Damn, why couldn’t he still be the asshole he’d been at the track. Why did he have to go and be all nice and gentle with her?
She had to remain strong.
“No, you shouldn’t have, but I accept your apology.” She made the mistake of looking up at him. It brought his lips within touching distance. Oh, man, she was so screwed if she wasn’t careful. “I, uh, I need to go.”
Drake shuffled a little closer, his denim clad legs brushing up against her. She clenched her hands to stop herself from placing them on his hips, going up on tiptoe and bridging the distance between them.
“I really am sorry, Tam. I won, you know. I won my heat.”
“I know.”
The tone of their whole conversation was no higher than a murmur. Whispered conversations weren’t something she was used to, but she definitely could adapt if Drake was the person she was conversing with.
“TJ tell you?”
Of course, he would think TJ told her. He had no idea she’d even been at the track watching him.
“No.”
“Then how did you know?”
Against her better judgment, she put her hands on his chest. Her fingers curled into the soft cotton of his t-shirt. “I was there.”
His eyes widened in surprise. It was the last thing she saw before her eyes drifted shut as Drake’s mouth closed over hers.
She sighed into his kiss, her hands traversing from his chest to around his neck. Her fingers threading through his short hair.
Dinner plans were forgotten as Drake deepened the kiss. His hands moved down her back to cup her ass, bringing her flush with his hard body. His erection brushed against her. She pushed her hips forward, increasing the friction between them.
It was crazy.
It was stupid.
It went against everything she’d ever thought she wanted, but she couldn’t stop this moment between them even if she wanted to.
It was right.
Drake broke the kiss to stare down at her, his face tight with desire, and she gulped in a couple of deep breaths. What she should do was pull out of his hold. Tell him to leave.
What she knew she was going to do was text TJ and plead a headache and ask Drake to stay.
Rules were meant to be broken, weren’t they?
Sometimes rules didn’t make sense, and self-imposed ones were the easiest to break.
What about Drake? While she was sure she wanted to take the next step, what if he didn’t?
He leaned forward to nuzzle her neck. “Are you going to dinner?” he whispered against her ear.
“Do you want me to?” she responded with a nip to his ear lobe. His groan reverberated through her.
“No.”
“Then you need to let me go so I can get my phone.”
“I don’t want to let you go.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m worried that if I do, you’ll decide that what we’re heading for will be completely wrong and tell me to leave.”
His uncertainty about her feelings for the situation they now found themselves in endeared him to her even more.
Teasing him a bit further seemed like a fun thing to do.
“What is it that you think we’re about to do next?”
The moment Drake’s hands grabbed the lapels of her jacket, Tamara knew her teasing attempt was about to be thrown in her face.
“I think,” he leaned forward and nibbled on her ear. Her eyelids fluttered closed. Resisting him was going to be impossible. And she didn’t want to. “You know exactly what’s about to happen.”
He released her, turning her around so she was flush up against him. His erection nudged her ass. Her bed was a few feet away. Standing and flirting with Drake wasn’t where she wanted to be. On the bed with arms and legs entangled was where she wanted to be.
Tamara pulled out of his hold and picked her bag up. Her phone beeped the moment she grabbed it.
Where are you? Is everything all right?
She quickly typed a response to TJ’s message.
I’m still in my room. I’m not going to make it to dinner. I’ve got—
What did she say? A headache would be too clichéd. Saying she was about to jump into bed with Drake would be the entirely wrong thing to say as well. The last thing she wanted was for this hookup to get out.
“Is everything okay, Tam? Who are you texting?”
Drake’s hands landed on her shoulders, and she turned to look up at him. “Yeah, I’m okay. I’m just texting TJ that I can’t make dinner. Only I don’t know what to tell him. Saying I have a headache seems so lame.”
“I hope you don’t have a headache,” Drake murmured against her hair while his hand caressed her neck.
Her fingers tightened on her phone. “Let me think of a reasonable excuse why I can’t meet them for dinner.”
“Tell them you got a better offer.”
She couldn’t deny the truth in his words. Spending the evening with Drake was definitely a better offer.
“And that won’t lead to a million questions.”
Drake moved away from her. Was he going to leave her so she could go to dinner? She breathed out in relief when he sat down on the bed and began to pull off his shoes.
“Presumptuous much?”
He laughed. “Do you want me to leave?”
“No.”
“Just get to typing your message.”
“Fine,” she grumbled.
I’ve got a bit of an upset stomach. I’ll see you tomorrow.
As excuses went, it wasn’t the worst, but one TJ would believe.
Not wanting anything to disturb the rest of their evening, she turned the phone off. She’d turn it back on later.
Now the night could get started.
11
Blood pumped through Drake’s body with the same intensity as it did before a race.
What was he doing?
About to have sex with an amazing woman, you idiot.
He mentally rolled his eyes at the voice in his head. Since when had he started having mental conversations with himself? He thought it was only girls who muttered to themselves.
But his inner voice was right. He and Tamara were about to get hot and heavy on her bed. His body jumped in anticipation of finally seeing her naked. His hands following every curve of her body, bringing her pleasure. He couldn’t wait to taste her properly. He knew he had the semis the day after next and he should be resting. But he’d wanted to apologize for being a dick. He’d never planned to take this next step with her. Now he was in her room, he knew at the back of his mind, this was how he’d hoped the evening would end.
“Not having second thoughts, are you?” asked Tamara as she walked toward where he still sat on the bed.
He shot off the bed, and in two strides their bodies were flush against each other. He smoothed his hands down her arms until he cupped her sweet ass. With a flex of his hips, he rubbed his aching erection against her legs.
“Does this feel like second thoughts?”
Her arms looped around his neck, her fingers splaying through his hair. “No, it doesn’t. It feels like you’re in pain.”
“Maybe you can use your magical hands to ease the pain?”
Her breath brushed his cheek as she laughed huskily in his ear. “I can think of a better way to ease the pain than using my hands.”
If possible, his body hardened even further. The need to release himself was almost too much to control, but Drake did. He wanted to take his time. He’d never been a wham bam thank you ma’am type of guy and he didn’t plan on starting now.
He reached up and grabbed her hands from around his neck. He pulled them down so they rested against her sides.
Man, she was beautiful. Her long hair loose instead of pulled into a ponytail or bun. In casual clothes she looked less like Tamara the trainer and more like a woman he’d want to spend time with if he didn’t know her and spied her standing in the line at a coffee shop or in a bar.
Never before had he been overwhelmed with the need to treasure a moment with a woman. Normally, it would be his dick doing all the thinking for him. Now, while his dick was straining to be heard, a deeper part of his soul was talking to him. Emotions he’d never felt before bombarded him.
Tenderness.
Caring.
Want.
Love?
No, not love. Lust, for sure. But a deeper caring than anything he’d ever felt for someone before?
“I want you, Tam. I want to worship you. I want to lose myself in you.”
Her eyes widened. Hell, his words surprised the heck out of him as well. Her mouth opened. He placed a finger over her lips. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?” she mumbled around his finger.
He took a deep breath, knowing he was about to lay his soul on the line to her. “I know you’re thinking I probably say those words to every woman I’ve slept with. And I know I have a bit of a reputation as a player.” He smoothed a hand over her hair before cupping her chin and lifting her face. Ensuring she looked directly at him s
o she could understand the truth in his words. “I’ve never wanted someone as much as I want you right this minute. I don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow or even the next day. But I know that this feels completely different from anything I’ve ever wanted or needed with another person.”
Her body trembled in his arms. Was it excitement or panic at the emotion of his words?
There really was only one way to handle her reaction. He pulled his shirt up and over his head. Next he popped the button on his jeans and pulled the zipper down. He shucked his boxers at the same time so he stood naked in front of Tamara. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips, and he groaned at the action, wanting that tongue somewhere, anywhere on his body.
The silence stretched between them, and he wondered if he’d taken it too far, too fast.
Then a slow, wicked smile spread across her face. His cock responded by hardening even more. “Someone looks like he’s ready. Better not false start.”
It was the silliest thing to bust out laughing, but he couldn’t help it.
“Baby, I never false start.”
He grabbed her shirt and pulled it over her head while Tamara undid the button and zipper on her trousers, the fabric pooling at her feet.
“So beautiful,” he whispered against her neck as he took in the way she looked in her matching bra and panties. Looked like Tamara had a thing for sexy undies. Her full breasts pushed against the cups of her chocolate-colored lace bra. He couldn’t wait to touch and taste them.
He trailed his lips over her neck before sliding down to the crevice between her breasts. He ran his tongue along the lacy edge of her lingerie while his hand found the back clasp. With a quick flick, the fabric loosened, and he removed the garment.
Drake stood and once again took possession of her lips. Her mouth opened for him, and her arms wound around his neck, hanging on tightly. His cock brushed up against her panty clad pussy. Her hips thrust against him. He moaned against her mouth. He needed to be buried deep inside of her.
“The bed,” he said.
“Yes.”
With a few steps, the back of his legs hit the bed. He sank down and Tamara fell on top of him. Their bodies aligned perfectly. With deft movements he removed the last of her underwear.
Fighting to Dream (The Elite Book 2) Page 6