“Oh, there was,” I tell them, “But not the kind that’s going to be cleared up easily.”
“What do you mean?” Bex prods.
“I mean, the race officials seem to think that I’m behind all the tampering that’s been going on. And god knows what else,” I say in a rush.
“But...that’s ridiculous,” Enzo says, his eyes wide, “What motive could you possibly have—what proof are they going off of?”
“False proof, that’s what,” I say, “Seems like someone leaked some video of me and Marques arguing to the race officials. The sound is all wonky, so it sounds like I’m saying all kinds of horrible things to him.”
“What kind of horrible?” Charlie asks.
“Threatening,” I say reluctantly.
“The video...it’s not from the other night when we went out together?” Bex asks.
“That’s precisely when it’s from,” I say.
“But Marques was all over you that night!” Bex protests, “He practically had you cornered—”
“He what?!” Enzo and Charlie chorus.
“And get this,” I say, pushing through their outrage, “I’m pretty sure the girl behind the bar that night was also just with Marques on the track after the race.”
“Do you think he staged the whole thing?” Bex asks.
“I don’t know what the hell to believe anymore, other than that this whole sport has veered too far into the realm of soap opera for my liking,” I sigh.
“Well, they obviously couldn’t prove that you were actually involved with messing up Marques’s car. Because you didn’t. Right?” Charlie asks.
“Charlie!” Bex cries, “How can you even ask a thing like that?”
“Just checking!” he says huffily.
“I most certainly haven’t had anything to do with the vandalism that’s been going on all year,” I say, “I also haven’t been involved in the blackmailing or harassment, other than as a target of it.”
“Unfortunately,” Enzo says, “We know that the truth has nothing to with what people will believe if the press starts gabbing. We have to make sure that you don’t become some kind of scapegoat, Siena.”
“Don’t I know it,” I tell him, “Apparently, Ferrelli is already questioning my credibility. They want to make sure that Dad can’t make me a shareholder in his place.”
“Over my dead body,” Enzo says.
“Don’t say that,” I tell him, “We still have one race left.”
“But this all leaves one big question rather obviously unanswered,” Bex says, her brow furrowing, “Has someone really been masterminding all the bullshit that’s gone on during this tour? And if so, why?”
“That’s the million dollar question,” I agree, “And clearly, the race officials are more eager to wag their fingers than actually get to the bottom of who’s been messing everything up around here.”
“OK, Nancy Drew, what do you propose we do to change that?” Enzo asks.
“You don’t do anything. You need to keep your head in the game and do your damnedest to win in Dallas,” I tell him.
“Still rooting for me, even with lover boy in the lead?” Enzo asks.
“Of course,” I tell him, “And I always will be.”
“And what about the rest of us?” Bex asks, “What should we do?”
“Throw on your thinking caps, kids,” I tell her and Charlie, “It’s time we got to the bottom of this nonsense once and for all.”
Before either of them can reply, there’s an insistent, forceful knock on the door. I don’t even need to open it to know who’s waiting there. I cross the room and ease open the door, letting my eyes settle on Harrison’s stony face as it’s revealed. His expression is not one of a man who has just won a hard-fought race. He looks like he’s about to punch a hole in the wall.
“Guys?” I say to my Ferrelli companions, “Could you maybe give me and Harrison a minute alone? I think we’ve got some stuff to talk about, just between the two of us.”
“I’ll say,” Harrison growls.
Chapter Thirteen
Unwinding Gratitude
As the door closes behind my brother and friends, Harrison folds his built arms across his chest and levels his gaze at me. I look up at him, startled by the intensity of his agitation.
“What is it?” I ask.
“Why weren’t you there?” he counters.
“It’s a long story,” I sigh, “I just—”
“I needed you there, Siena. These races don’t mean anything when you’re not there to share them with me.”
“But you won!” I say, smiling hesitantly.
“Great,” Harrison scoffs, “I won the race, and it seems I’m losing something far more important. Someone far more important.”
“Harrison, you’re going to have to help me out here,” I tell him, “I don’t—”
“Have you been on your computer today?” he asks frankly.
“Not yet,” I tell him, “My morning was sort of—”
I’m cut off as Harrison marches across the room and snatches up my laptop. He flips it open and lets my web browser open on its own. Disgust clutches his features as the page loads, and I rush to see what, exactly, has caused so much ire to spring up within him.
“You’ve got to be kidding me...” I groan, as I catch a glimpse of the Web’s offerings for today. “This is insane.”
A small corner of my go-to news site has once again been colonized with a picture of me. Only this time, Harrison is nowhere to be found in the frame. Instead, another man leans toward me, forcing himself into my personal space. It’s a screen shot of me and Rafael Marques, taken from that ridiculous video I had the pleasure of feasting my eyes on earlier today.
“Care to explain what the hell it is I’m seeing?” Harrison growls.
“That would be Marques, harassing me at a bar. What else is new?” I say.
“What were you doing hanging out with Marques alone in a bar?” Harrison demands.
“I wasn’t hanging out with him,” I say, “He showed up at the bar where Bex and I were drinking, and then made himself a nuisance.”
“That’s not what it looks like,” Harrison tells me, “That picture looks like two people flirting, Siena.”
My jaw drops a foot as hot white anger blazes through me. “Are you fucking kidding me, Davies?” I say, “You think I was out last night fraternizing with Rafael Marques? You think I invited his smarmy come-ons? You think I’d do that to you, to myself?”
“A picture tells a thousand words,” Harrison says, slamming the computer shut.
“A thousand manipulated, out-of-context words, in this case,” I retort.
“So the blogs and articles speculating that you’re cozying up to Marques are false?” Harrison asks.
“I can’t believe you’re even asking me that,” I say, “I can’t believe you don’t know me well enough to know that I’d never do something like that. And not just because you’re in the picture, and not because it would piss my brother off. I’d never be caught dead with Rafael Marques because he’s a sexist, arrogant bastard, and I deserve better than that.”
“I know that you do,” Harrison says heatedly.
“You’ve been so good to me, Harrison,” I tell him, “You’ve respected me, treated me as your equal, never treated me like some thing on the side. Why would you suddenly lose faith in me now? Why would you disrespect me like this?”
“What am I supposed to think, after seeing a picture like that?” Harrison asks.
“That you love me, and believe in me,” I tell him.
“Oh, is that what you did when that picture of Shelby and I came out?” Harrison asks. “Did you think to yourself, ‘something must be wrong here, I’m not going to accuse Harrison of being a horrible person,’ or did you jump to conclusions right away?”
“It was at least plausible that you might be having an affair with Shelby,” I tell him, “She’s smart, and beautiful, and—”
�
�She’s not you,” Harrison growls, “And that’s all that matters.”
“Well, Marques isn’t you either,” I tell him, “So can you honestly believe that I’d ever want anything to do with him? And did you happen to see the cuts on his face? They happen to match my rings...”
We stare at each other, standing at opposite corners of my sprawling queen bed. We’ve hardly fought in the time we've known each other, and I don’t know what to make of it now. I feel charged, ready for action...God, do I feel turned on? How is that even possible?
“Jesus...” Harrison mutters, sinking down onto the bed, “I’m a goddamn moron.”
“In this moment, maybe,” I allow, sitting down next to him.
“I just saw that picture, that headline...”
“What headline?”
Harrison grimaces, says, “‘Is Princess Siena Playing the Field?’”
“It doesn’t make any sense,” I mutter, “What the hell is the game here?”
“Game?” Harrison asks.
“Oh God, I haven’t even told you yet,” I laugh dryly, “There’s a video that goes with that picture. Of Marques and I fighting in the bar. It may also include me punching the guy in the face...”
“My girl,” Harrison smiles.
“But anyway,” I press on, “I was presented with said video by some race officials after they dragged me away from Enzo’s trailer this morning before the race. Someone is trying to make it look like I’ve been behind all the sabotaging nonsense that’s happened this season.”
“What...But...” Harrison splutters.
“I know, it’s crazy,” I tell him, “I don’t think that anyone’s actually trying to pin anything on me. I just think someone wants that rumor in the air. Why, I have no idea. Malice? Spite?”
“I’ll end them, whoever did this,” Harrison growls, “They took you away for questioning? Like you were some goddamn criminal?”
“Oh yeah. But they had nothing to actually use against me. Just a badly doctored video and some institutionalized misogyny.”
“Do you think...one person could be behind everything that’s happened to us? To all of the drivers and teams?”
“I think it’s possible,” I tell him, “But if it is...I have no idea what to do about it.”
“Hang the asshole high, I say,” Harrison scoffs.
“Have to figure out who it is first,” I remind him.
“Small detail,” Harrison tells me, “We’ve got the A-Team over here. You, me, our Ferrelli and McClain posses...”
“What is this, a superhero movie?” I laugh.
“It’s starting to feel something like that,” Harrison says, shaking his head, “Remember when the most exciting thing going on in this tour was us, sneaking away to mess around in hotel rooms?”
“Last I checked, that’s still the most exciting thing about this tour,” I smile, “And look. We seem to have found our way into another hotel room, yet again.”
“So we have...” Harrison smiles, looping an arm around my waist.
“I can’t believe you thought I’d touch that rat Marques with a ten foot pole,” I say, nuzzling into Harrison’s side.
“Did he...do anything?” Harrison asks, “Anything I need to run him off the damn track for, I mean?”
“I already got a good hit in,” I laugh, “I think we’re all squared up.”
“I know you can protect yourself,” Harrison says, running a hand down my arm, “But I can’t help but want to protect you too, Siena.”
“I know,” I say, laying a hand on his hard chest, “But only if you’ll let me protect you, too. Deal?”
“Deal,” Harrison smiles.
“By the way,” I say softly, laying my lips against his throat, “Nice first place win, Mister.”
“Proud of me?” Harrison asks, his eyes closing blissfully as I kiss all along his neck.
“Very,” I tell him, running my hands along the firm panes of his pecs, my fingers dancing along his sinfully defined abs.
“You think you’re safe now? No one’s going to try and pin all this shit on you?” Harrison asks, pulling me onto his lap.
“They can sure try,” I tell him, running my fingers through his hair, “But I’m not going to lie down and take it.”
“I love it when you lie down and take it though...” Harrison grins.
“Is that so?” I ask, grinding my hips lightly against him.
“Mhmm...” Harrison mutters. It’s all he can manage, for the moment.
“In that case...why don’t you take that shirt off so I can see that ripped body of yours?”
Harrison obeys, lifting his black tee up over his shoulders. I lower my lips hungrily to his chest, moving down along his collarbone, his sternum, over every crystal clear muscle I find there. I press against his broad shoulders.
“Lie back,” I command.
“Gladly,” he says, “But only if I can pull you down with me.”
“Of course,” I grin.
Harrison takes me up in his arms, cradling me against his bare, rock hard chest. We sprawl across the bed together, pulling and ripping each other out of our clothes. I kiss every inch of Harrison’s body that I can reach. If we had three lifetimes together, I couldn’t get enough of each little bit of him. There’s not a thing I would change, a thing I don’t love with every fiber of my being. He may not be the perfect man, but he’s perfect for me. And I’ll take that to cookie-cutter perfection any day.
We finally slip out of our underthings and wrap our arms around each other. The feel of his skin against my own will never get old, I know. We tumble and roll, losing track of who’s on top and who’s below. After our spat, I’m ravenous for him. I guess this is what they mean when they talk about makeup sex...
I find myself straddling Harrison once more, my wet slit poised just above his hard, pulsating manhood. Our eyes lock as I let the very tip of him brush against me. His hands find my hips, grabbing on tight as I slowly, surely, lower myself down onto him. Twinned groans of bliss rise from our throats as he sinks deeper and deeper inside of me. You’d think I’d have gotten used to the sheer size of him right now, but it’s still a surprise each time I feel him. He just fills me up so totally, so completely. More wholly than I could ever have imagined.
My hips rock gently as Harrison presses up into me. I let my head fall back, my curls cascading down my back. I’ve given up commanding Harrison, I’m too high on the bliss our bodies incite to bother with words. But Harrison has a request of his own.
“Turn around,” he breathes.
“What?” I gasp, leaning into him as his staggering member parts the flesh within me.
“Let me see you...from behind...” He pleads.
A thrill of anticipation runs through me at the thought. I want to feel Harrison every way I possibly can. He’s made me adventurous, daring, comfortable in my own skin. I give him a wicked little smile and swing my legs around, executing a perfect 180 while balanced on his gorgeous manhood. I’m rather impressed with myself, to tell the truth.
I glance back at Harrison, delighted to see him in this whole new way. He runs his hands down my back, over my shoulder blades, along my spine. He cups my firm ass in his hands as he draws back and drives himself up into me once more. I gasp as I meet his pass, astounded by how deep he goes. I arch my back, leaning into our most intimate point of contact. Again and again he rocks his stiff length into me, opening me up in a way I’ve never known.
“Siena,” he breathes, “I just want you to feel good...”
“This feels amazing,” I tell him, burying my hands in my hair.
“I want you...to touch yourself...” he tells me.
“Wh-what?” I stammer, looking back over my shoulder.
“Touch yourself,” he says again, “I want you to come like wild.”
The very suggestion has me rocketing toward the edge, but I’m more than happy to oblige. Keeping my curls bundled up in one hand, I loose the other to that place between my l
egs. Now in this, I know exactly what I’m doing. A lady’s got to know how to take care of herself, after all.
I lay two fingers against that hard, throbbing spot. A moan escapes my throat as I roll that aching button under my deft fingers. Harrison’s grip on me tightens as his thrusts come hard and fast. My legs tremble beneath me as ripples of pleasure collide and roll all the way through me. My entire body lights up with sensation as I rub and stroke my clit, riding Harrison’s powerful, driving cock all the while. A delicious pressure billows up in my very core, And I know that I’m seconds away from release.
“Come with me,” I gasp, locking eyes with Harrison over my shoulder.
His mouth falls open into a perfect “O”, and the very sight of him pushes me over the edge. He slams up into me as my fingers lay a perfect nudge against the most sensitive inch of my body. We soar together beyond the reach of this world, bucking and writhing as orgasm takes hold of us. A rush of sensation scorches along my nerves, illuminating every cell in my body. For this moment, we’re invincible.
I lower myself down from Harrison’s lap and curl up in the nook of his arm. For a long while, we just lay there catching our breath. Everything around us is rushing forward, spiraling out of control. But as long as we have this, as long as we have each other’s arms, nothing can truly hurt us.
“You know I love you, right?” Harrison asks.
“Oh sure,” I grin, cuddling closer, “You know it too?”
“You bet. Just wanted to make sure we have a unified message for when the press starts to hound us.”
“That’s your statement to the press? That you love me?” I ask, amazed.
“Well, naturally,” he smiles, “Might as well tell them the truth every once in a while.”
“I’m not sure how interested the media is in the truth,” I remind him.
“Well, they’re always interested in a good love story. So at least we can give them that.”
Harrison and I lay together for as long as we dare, but soon it’s time to rouse ourselves again. We have to be off to Dallas, after all, for the final race for the championship. As we dress ourselves once more, I steal a look at this unlikely companion I’ve found. His muscular back ripples with strength as he tugs his shirt back over his torso. As many times as I’ve seen him without a stitch on his body, every little glimpse still thrills me.
Faster Longer (Take Me...#3) (New Adult Bad Boy Racer Novel) Page 12