Sweet Carolina

by Roz Lee

  Dell paced to the doorway and back again before he sat. Warner followed his lead and perched on the edge of the sofa.

  “I don't know what you think you're doing, Warner, but it isn't going to work. I think I'd know if I had a brother.” It had to be some kind of sick joke, though a little voice deep inside warned him it might be true. He refused to acknowledge the sinister thought.

  “Well, welcome to my world, Dell. I didn't know I had a brother either, or a father for that matter, until the day Caudell died. I felt bad enough about the way it happened, then Butch came up and clapped me on the back. He said something about how Caudell would have seen the irony of the situation. I stood there, staring at him. I think he realized I didn't know what he was talking about. He told me Caudell was my father. I don't know what I did afterwards. It's mostly a blur.”

  “He lied,” Dell said, positive now this had to be a hoax. He just couldn't figure out who had anything to gain by it. Renfro? Warner? Maybe.

  “I didn't believe him either. I never met my dad. Didn't know who he was. All my mother ever told me was that he was the love of her life, but they couldn't be together. I never understood why. Kids don't ask about stuff like that, you know? Anyway, the next day was Mother's Day. My mom was there for the race. You know, everyone's mother is honored before the race.”

  “I wouldn't know about that,” Dell said.

  “No, I guess you wouldn't,” Warner said. “Sorry.”

  “I'm not asking for your pity,” Dell said.

  “And you won't get it,” he said before he continued. “Anyway, it took a while for me to get to her.” He paused. “I had to answer a lot of questions from the NASCAR officials. And there was a shit-load of reporters. I still don't know what I told them. I guess I said something, because they left me alone after that. I finally tracked down Mom at her hotel. I didn't even have to ask. She was a mess, crying, yelling. You don't need to know all of it; just that she blamed me for killing the only man she ever loved – and I guess that included me, because she said she never wanted to see me again. I haven't seen her since.”

  Silence descended on the room. Dell forgot all about his unfinished beer. Memories of all the times Caudell compared him to Warner, and found Dell wanting. Even on the day he died – apparently at the hands of his beloved, bastard son – he'd scolded Dell for not being more like Warner. His gut churned as a white-hot anger began to burn inside him. Snippets of conversation, moments frozen in time and seared on his mind. They made sense in light of Warner's declaration, and the flame of hate burned brighter. Warner continued as if he hadn't just opened the gates of hell and let all the demons run loose.

  “So look, Dell. I admit I've been out to get you – not kill you. You're my brother, and probably the only family I've got. For a long time, I resented you. You had everything I didn't. You had our dad all to yourself, and I never had him at all. I went through a period where I hated you for getting all the money he left.”

  Dell jerked his gaze from the stubborn spot on the carpet to Warner. His brother held up a staying hand. “I'm over it now. It was petty, I know, but it's taken me a while to assimilate all this. I don't care about the money. I just want to understand why Caudell never made me a part of his life.”

  Dell chuckled. Oh, if Warner only knew how Caudell had felt about him. But he'd be damned if he was going to share the information with him. That was a private pain, and if Warner suffered for it, so much the better.

  CHAPTER TEN

  “Are you through?” Dell asked through gritted teeth.

  “Almost. I'll admit to jealousy and to trying to make your life miserable, placing blame where it didn't belong, but I'm not trying to kill you.” Warner stood and took a few steps toward the door before he stopped and turned to Dell. “I'm not expecting us to become a family, and I'm not going to tell anyone else about this, us, I mean. I figure if Butch knows, other people know. I'm tired of the all the fighting on the track – in the cars and out. From now on, if I go after you on the track, it's about track position and nothing else.”

  Dell sat corpse still, absorbing everything Warner said long after his bastard brother was gone. As bizarre as it was, it cleared up a lot of things Dell never understood growing up. His mother went away when he was five years old, leaving Dell with his father. One day she was there, and the next she was gone. He remembered crying buckets for months after she left, but the only explanation Caudell ever gave him for her defection was when Dell was about ten. Dell said something about how he wished he had a mother, and Caudell's response still stunned him. His father looked him in the eye and said, “She didn't understand men. We have needs.”

  Yeah, needs. Caudell always had someone to take care of his needs. His father's indiscriminate affairs disgusted Dell. Caudell never tried to hide the track bunnies he brought back to their motor home, but none of them ever stayed more than one night, or a few hours. No doubt, Warner's mother had been one of them.

  Dell shook his head. It was a wonder there weren't a dozen more bastard siblings out there. Who knew? If there was one, there could be more.

  But did he believe Warner? He mulled it over and came to the conclusion that yes, he did. Did his revelation change anything? It remained to be seen. Just because they shared the old man's blood didn't mean Dell was going to cut Warner any slack during a race. Dell raced to win, no matter who was on the track. If Warner wanted to back off from his vengeance against Dell, that was his prerogative. But it didn't mean Dell had to do the same. He didn’t give a good goddamned about familial blood, especially if it stood between a checkered flag and him.

  * * * *

  Caro stood at the back of the crowd gathered outside the Charlotte Speedway, watching Dell sign autographs for his fans. He looked both hot and hot in his fire suit. Caro fanned herself with the folder in her hand. The hot wind she stirred up did nothing to cool her sun-baked skin or the warmth melting her from the inside out. Damn. Why did the sight of Dell do these things to her? He infuriated her at every turn –professionally and personally. And there wasn't a thing she could do about either one.

  She might need him professionally, but on a personal level, he was the last thing she needed, and everything she wanted. It was a sad truth she'd come to accept. Popular psychology said recognizing a problem was the first step to overcoming it, so she'd taken the first step, admitting to herself how badly she wanted Dell Wayne. So far, admitting her weakness hadn't done a thing toward making it go away. If anything, the dreams that woke her at night became worse since her self-revelation.

  And the worst of it was, she knew how his hands felt on her skin, how his lips felt on hers. It was knowledge she wished she didn't have because you couldn't unlearn something like that. It was as if his hands imprinted themselves on her skin, and like a tattoo, the imprint was etched in permanent ink. Caro chuckled to herself, imagining tattoos covering her body, announcing every few inches, “Dell was here.”

  Dell smiled at a teenage fan, and Caro shifted her gaze to the show car behind him rather than see his eyes sparkle at the girl. She'd seen enough women of all ages simper when he turned his megawatt smile on them to last her a lifetime.

  The weatherman promised a solid week of record temperatures – exactly what they needed for the ten-day racing extravaganza that ended with the six-hundred-mile race on the following Sunday. Thankfully, it was close to home. Hawkins Racing didn't need two weeks of travel expenses on top of everything else. If Dell didn't finish well in either the All Star Shoot-Out or the Sprint Cup, they'd be taking the show car off the promo circuit for real. It was old as the hills, but with a minimum rebuild, it could meet today's safety standards and comply with the rule changes since it was taken out of commission.

  Caro glanced at her watch, then at the crowd still seeking Dell's autograph. She weighed her desire to get out of the sun with the promise of souvenir sales if these women left here happy and decided a few more minutes in the heat wouldn't kill either of them. Dell glanced her
way, his eyebrow raised in question. She flashed him five fingers. A slight twitch of his lips told her he wasn't happy about the time extension. But he didn't know how strapped they were for cash. These last two weeks of May at Charlotte had the potential to boost a team's bottom line if the drivers played nice with the fans. Thus, Caro booked Dell at every fan event possible. He was even sacking groceries at the tented grocery store in the middle of the campground one evening this week.

  It was a grueling schedule of practice runs, qualifying, racing and promotion that would take a toll on anyone, even an athlete in top physical condition. It would also mean no time for fooling around with track bunnies or…her. By the time Dell was through every night this week, he wouldn't want to do anything but sleep. She only hoped she would be as lucky.

  Four-and-a-half minutes later, Caro skirted the crowd and slipped in beside Dell. The women still wanting an autograph or photo voiced their displeasure. Caro handed out flyers detailing Dell's multiple appearances, assuring them they had ample opportunities still to get what they wanted. Dell signed one more hat before Caro shoved him in the direction of the track gate. He didn't need much encouragement. Caro hustled to keep pace with him. He slowed once he was in the hot-pass zone – away from all but the most privileged fans.

  Caro followed blindly. Between the heat and her semi-run to the infield, she was past caring where they were going. Dell held the motor coach door open for her, his hand on the small of her back, and propelled her up the steps and inside. Cool air slammed against her, taking her breath away. Dell's body pressed against her backside, his hands came to rest on her hips. Her internal temperature spiked and her head whirled. Dell caught her as she began to fall.

  “Sit down.” He half walked, half carried her to the sofa, before he spun her around and used his hands to press her hips into a sitting position. “Loosen your blouse. I'll get you some water.”

  Caro fumbled with the buttons of her silk blouse. The fabric fell open down the front. Goosebumps rose on her exposed flesh as the cool air hit her.

  * * * *

  Damn. He didn't want to care about Carolina, but someone sure as hell needed to. It was obvious she wasn't taking care of herself. Dell wet a towel and grabbed two water bottles from the refrigerator. Since Warner's revelation, Dell thought of little else. Memories and reality collided until the pieces of the puzzle began to slip into place, and the picture they formed was ugly – filled with anger and hate that gnawed away at him.

  He'd only found relief in his dreams, dreams of Caro, beneath him, riding him, taking him away from reality, taking him to paradise and beyond.

  He stopped dead when he saw her.

  She'd undone her blouse, revealing perfect breasts encased in some sort of lace marvel that married engineering with sin, and sent blood rushing to his cock with enough speed to make him dizzy. Caro's head rested on the back of the sofa, her eyes closed, her full lips parted. Images flashed through his impaired brain, and he couldn't decide which he wanted more – to shove his cock past those soft lips, or lick the sweat from her body, one inch at a time.

  He stood silent, watching her breathe, almost afraid to breathe himself – afraid he'd wake and find it was a dream – a fantasy. He wasn't the man for her. He knew it in his soul, but it didn't keep his body from wanting her.

  A wave of possessiveness stole over him. The erotic tableau was for him only. The tantalizing band of exposed skin was meant for his hands, his lips, and no other. Those lips were meant for his cock, his kiss. And the rest of her, the hot center taunting him in his dreams, that was his too, and he'd murder anyone who believed otherwise.

  She stirred, turning those sapphire blue eyes on him. An invisible current flowed between them, releasing Dell from his paralysis. Wrong. What he wanted was so wrong, but like a bug drawn to the light, he couldn't overcome nature. Knowing he was courting the flames of hell, he closed the distance between them. Her gaze followed his progress until he joined her on the sofa.

  “Dell,” she breathed.

  “Shh. Let me take care of you,” he said. He bathed her face with the wet cloth, trailing the cool fabric across her forehead, her flushed cheeks, over her lips and down the length of her chin. Her chest rose and fell on a sigh as he dragged the cloth over her chest, pushing the edges of her blouse aside as he descended.

  “You're so beautiful.” He brushed the cloth over the swell of her breasts, pausing to watch a drop of water disappear into the cleft. He groaned and dipped his head.

  Moth. Flame.

  Caro gasped and arched her back as his tongue delved into the spot in search of the elusive water droplet. Her silk skin tasted of salt and the heat of her body magnified her scent. His nostrils flared.

  Intoxicating.

  He drew his tongue across the top of one lace-clad breast, then the other before he hooked his index finger in one cup. Her skin set him on fire. And when his questing digit found the hard nub he sought, her moan of pleasure shattered him.

  Lost.

  “I've got to see you, Caro,” he said. He searched her eyes for resistance and saw need and a raw hunger that matched his own. Still, he vowed to himself to take it slow, savor every moment. Even though he saw acceptance now, if she changed her mind, he would stop, even if it killed him. She was too precious, too perfect, and he'd never do anything to harm her.

  Mine.

  He used his finger to draw the fabric down until her darkened areola peeked above the lace. He touched his tongue to the puckered skin before he dipped lower to taste the still hidden jewel. It was too much.

  It wasn't enough.

  He had to have more. He jerked the fabric, and at the same time sucked her nipple into his mouth, pulling hard on her sensitive skin. Suddenly, her hands cradled his head, her fingers combing through his hair, holding him to her. A sexy moan vibrated through her chest, setting him aflame.

  Mine. Mine.

  Then she was beneath him on the sofa. He feasted on one breast, while he fumbled with the back closure of her bra. It came loose and he pushed the fabric down to expose both breasts. He released her, pushing up to see the treasure he'd uncovered.

  “My God, Carolina.” He reverently touched one breast, testing the weight in his palm. He brushed his thumb across the tight nipple. “You are so damned perfect.”

  “Dell.” His name was a whisper on her lips. He tore his eyes from her breasts. He saw wonder and surrender in her eyes. Something inside him shifted and he swallowed hard.

  “Caro, my sweet Carolina.”

  “Love me, Dell.”

  He was hard as a post with want and need, but this was Carolina and hurting her wasn't an option. He would be a gentleman about this for her. “You don't know how much I want to, Caro.” He ground his erection against her stomach to emphasize the point. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

  “Please, Dell.” Her hips rose to meet his. “Don't make me beg.”

  “Ah, sweet Carolina, you'll never have to beg.”

  She squealed as he swept her into his arms and carried her to the back of the coach, laying her on his bed. He stripped and came down beside her. With a measure of control he didn't know he was capable of, he stripped her clothes from her, one garment at a time, indulging in his fantasy of licking the perspiration from her, one inch at a time.

  Caro moaned and squirmed beneath his ministrations. He touched, he tasted, he worshipped, and then he wedged his shoulders between her thighs and feasted.

  No nectar on earth was sweeter than his Carolina, and she was his. He'd denied it enough, postponing his claim of her far too long.

  Mine.

  Her throaty moans, her fingers against his scalp drove him on. Her pleasure became his goal in life. Her thighs pillowed his face. Her scent, her taste became a part of him. She was close, he could feel the tension building as his tongue stroked inside her. He needed her climax more than he needed his own, and he was beyond desperate.

  Timing was something he understood. He waited,
assessed, calculated. He was in the driver's seat – evaluating every sound, every motion from her writhing body in order to coax optimum performance from her. He used all his senses to know when she needed him to throttle up, and in that instant, he plunged two fingers deep inside her and clamped his teeth over her clit while his tongue flicked over the captured nub. She shattered, her body convulsing in a jagged rhythm in tempo with his heartbeat. Liquid heat bathed his face and hand. His head spun as he absorbed her climax into his psyche. Nothing would ever be better than this, he thought.

  She curled into him, sated and smiling. He held her in a gentle, yet firm, embrace until her breathing calmed. Her skin was satin beneath his fingers as he learned the curve of her back, the swell of her hips and her sweet ass. All this was his, but he needed more. He needed all of her.

  “Caro,” he said as he felt her smile against his chest. His cock twitched against her stomach.

  “Mmm,” she murmured. She pressed a kiss to his heated skin. Flames licked at his insides.

  “We're not through,” he said.

  Her hand on his stomach slipped lower. His body tensed in anticipation. Her fingers found his erection, closing around him like a velvet vise. Air swooshed from his lungs and he bucked, sucking in a ragged breath. “Sweet Jesus, Carolina.” He called on every bit of restraint to allow her to explore. It was the least he could do before he claimed her final prize. “You're killing me, sweetheart.”

  She rolled away from him, keeping his cock prisoner to her inquisitive hand so all he could do was roll with her until she was beneath him, guiding his cock to her entrance. Her heat called to him. He craved it more than he'd ever craved anything in his life. In a moment of sanity, he braked. “Protection.” His voice sounded like gravel.

  “Hurry,” she said.

  Dell leaned over, stretching to reach the drawer in the nightstand, keeping her pinned beneath his hips while praying he'd find a condom in there. Track bunnies weren't his style, but he'd been desperate a time or two. But never like this. Never to the point where death looked better than the prospect of having to stop now. He silently cursed as he ran his fingers across the bottom of the drawer and came up empty.