Slide Job (Cameron Motorsports)

by Fox, Sutton

  She could see Eric’s head tilted over in his seat. He’d probably be dozing. She did that sometimes herself. Without the engine running you were in your own little world, encapsulated, waiting.

  Adrenaline sluiced its way through her system. Sitting silently, she took deep breaths and released them slowly. A clutch of butterflies entered her stomach.

  Her mind came to rest on thoughts of her father. How much her winning this contest would mean to him. In so many ways. Not just the money, although that was prime for her.

  She remembered the countless hours he’d spent working on her go-karts, quarter midgets, whatever she was racing at the time. Patiently he’d taught her everything he knew about racing.

  Mom would always bring sandwiches out to the shop they’d built on the far side of their house. No matter how many crewmembers or friends came to hang out, there were never too many mouths to feed. Mom always found a way.

  What bragging rights they’d have if their daughter made it to FASPRO. She grinned just thinking about it. Spirals of hope twisted to life inside her.

  She could do it. She knew it deep inside the most secret part of herself. All the hours of constant practice and never-ending hard work hadn’t bothered her. The missed homecoming football games, proms, and other activities and events she’d sacrificed led her to this moment.

  Now that she thought about it, that’s probably what had led her to Josh back then. She’d never had time for much social life, so she fell for the first guy to boff her.

  Interrupting her thoughts, the back straight away flagman waved his rolled-up yellow flag in tight circles in the air. The previous race had ended. He gave them the signal to start their engines.

  She flipped the magneto switch and pulled her shoulder belts tight one last time. Hands on the steering wheel, she felt the bump of the four-wheeler on the back of the car. It pushed her onto the racetrack and kept pushing until the engine built up enough compression to start.

  The car picked up speed as it bumped around the track. It would be a rough race tonight. Jarred and rocked by the suspension and the big soft tires, she could feel the ruts narrower tires had dug in the clay in earlier races. Thin padding in her seat let her body feel every bump to its full potential. Bounced like a paddleball on a string, thrown out at high speed and snapped back so intensely it cracked her teeth together.

  They circled, doing their warm up laps, continuing to pick up speed. She rolled past the caution light heading into turn three and it blinked green, on and off. One lap to go.

  The green flag waved, and they were off. Like a pride of lions, faster and faster they went, racing to capture their prey, the ever-elusive checkered flag.

  *

  Morgan stood next to her car grinning from ear to ear. She didn’t think her lips could stretch wide enough to hold the joy she felt. Energy surged through her as she smiled, laughed, and hugged her crew.

  Jack and Phil hugged her back, took turns picking her up and swinging her around. They were as excited as she was. She noticed tears in Jack’s eyes, and her heart trembled when he hastily brushed them away.

  She’d won! She had done it!

  The track announcer’s voice cut through her euphoria with a bang.

  “Morgan, how did it feel on the last lap, knowing you were going to win?”

  Jeez. She’d forgotten about getting asked dumb-ass questions. What she really wanted to say was, the track was so rough I bit my tongue, moron! How do you think it felt?

  Instead, she ignored the sore spot on her tongue, along with the taste of blood, and smiled at him. “It felt great!” she said. Almost as good as sex, she thought with true enthusiasm.

  The cameraman focused in for a close up.

  “My father couldn’t be here tonight.” Morgan waved her hand in a broad arc to include Jack and Phil. “And we all miss him.” She looked directly into the camera and smiled holding up her trophy. “This one’s for you, Dad.”

  Her eyes filled. She couldn’t help it. This would be the first time she’d stood in victory lane without her dad there to celebrate with her.

  Steve patted her on the back. “Great job, Morgan.” Blake slipped his head out from behind the camera and winked at her, giving her thumbs-up before slipping back behind the lens.

  She scanned the crowd of well-wishers, searching for one particular face. Her elation dimmed slightly when she couldn’t see Tyler anywhere. Odd, she’d wanted him to be here. To care.

  *

  A hard knock at the door made Tyler look up from his email. He wondered who would be knocking at midnight. Hopefully it wasn’t one of the film crew. He wasn’t in the mood for dealing with any more problems tonight.

  He’d missed tonight’s race and filming while catching up on work he couldn’t get done by being out of his office. He’d missed Annie’s bedtime call, because he’d run down to get a sandwich for dinner, and forgotten his cell phone in the room.

  Returning calls and reviewing contracts, time had gotten away from him. Slowly, he got up from his chair and made his way cautiously to the door. Looking through the peephole, he saw Morgan waiting on the other side.

  What the hell? Curiosity aroused, he opened the door. With one hand on the door frame, he motioned with the other hand for her to come in. Briefly, he paused to wonder how she’d found out his room number. Noticing the lacey camisole and the daisy dukes, he decided he didn’t care. She was here.

  “Hello, Morgan. Come in. What’s wrong?” Tyler looked closely at her. She didn’t look like anything was wrong. She was grinning like a Cheshire cat and holding a bottle of champagne out to him. He took the offered bottle and worked at opening it.

  “Nothing’s wrong.” She kept on grinning at him. “Got any glasses around here?” She surveyed the room, gaze coming to rest on the king-size bed. If it was possible, her smile got even wider. She turned to look at him with a speculative gleam in her shining brown eyes.

  Oh shit. His palms started to sweat. Why did he feel cornered in his own hotel room?

  “Uh, sure.” He beat a hasty retreat to the bathroom, carrying the bottle with him, to grab two tumblers. Champagne-filled glasses kept his hands busy when he came back into the room. He handed her one and sat down in his desk chair, placing his glass on the desk next to his laptop. Distance, yeah, keeping his distance was good.

  “Is this some sort of celebration?” He knew she’d won tonight. Steve had left a voicemail earlier. There just hadn’t been time for him to do anything about it. The last thing he’d expected was for her to show up at his room.

  “You bet it is.” She smiled again and sat on the edge of the bed, bouncing a bit. “I won.”

  He had a moment to wonder if she was checking the firmness of the mattress. She tilted her head back and drank the champagne in one long, endless swallow. He watched the muscles in her throat work, and it made his body tighten. She licked her full pink lips, set the glass on the nightstand and rose from the bed.

  “Congratulations.” His mind went blank as she walked toward him. It couldn’t be more than ten steps. It seemed like one hundred. Time slowed, his focus narrowed. A feral gleam darkened her brown eyes almost to black as she came to him. Her unfettered breasts swayed with her movement, proud nipples erect, demanding attention through her pale pink camisole.

  Sweat gathered on his brow in a light film. His hands held the edges of his chair in a death grip. He almost stuttered when he asked, “Is there something else you need at this late hour?”

  She stopped at the edge of his chair and looked him almost eye to eye. “Just the answer to a question.”

  “Okay. Shoot.” Good, great. He’d give her the answer and she’d go.

  “Why didn’t you want to kiss me the other night?”

  Oh, God. He could swear she almost purred it. Honesty. Honesty was the best policy. She had him so wrapped up, if he lied he’d never remember it anyway.

  “It...it…” He took a deep breath to steady himself. “It wasn’t that I di
dn’t want to. I’m just not a one-night-stand kind of guy.”

  She laughed.

  She actually laughed at him. Again. When his blood found its way back to his brain, he might be insulted.

  “Really.” She grabbed his hands from their hold on the chair. She swung one leg over one side of the seat and did the same with the other so she straddled him.

  Of their own accord his arms closed around her, his hands cupping her firm ass. He could feel her heat through the thin shorts she wore.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed herself against him, crotch to crotch, cheek to cheek. Heat sizzled between them. His whole body flared to life as if he’d been held apart from feeling anything, until now.

  “Well, what if I’m a one-night-stand kind of girl?” she murmured in his ear.

  He really wasn’t a one-night-stand kind of guy. He believed doing that cheated both people. Casual sex didn’t do it for him. He wanted to know his partner.

  The lady simply drove him mad, beyond his own boundaries. Why he responded this way, to this particular woman, remained a mystery to him. She rubbed her entire body against him in a feline gesture.

  Her feminine aroma, layered with the scent of roses, tickled his nose and caressed his soul in a way no other woman ever had. He slid his hands up her back, grasping the hem of her top in the process. He raised it off her, wanting—no, needing—to feel the softness of her skin against him.

  There hadn’t been anyone since Cindy. There’d been plenty of offers; he just hadn’t been interested. His body certainly made its interest known this time. She’d have to be dead if she couldn’t feel him hard and throbbing against her core.

  Tyler almost stopped when he heard it. Almost. His niggling little voice of reason. Don’t do this. She ran her hands through his hair, stroked his scalp with her nails. It spoke again. It’s a bad idea, you’ll regret it.

  Super-heated blood roared through his veins. Needs, older than time, demanded his flesh be sated. Passion for this woman filled him and drowned the voice in his head.

  Silken skin moved under his hands as he traced her spine, her shoulders, her tiny waist. A living thing, thriving from his touch. Feeding him, heating him, she thrilled him. More. Much more.

  He paused. And couldn’t think why he shouldn’t do this. She rubbed her warm center against him, legs open wide, pressing, welcoming. A groan burst from his oxygen-starved lungs. His erection strained, jumped, ached behind the confining denim material that now felt a size too small. Raising himself off the seat, he ground himself against her. He needed to be inside her. Feel her, possess her.

  Passion slew his conscience with hunger disguised as sweet torture. Compelled, he smoothed his hands over her belly, up her rib cage to cup her breasts. They filled his palms, a gift she offered. Unable to refuse, he lowered his head to taste.

  He circled one peaked, rosy nipple with his tongue, even as he caressed the other. Close to her skin, he inhaled her fragrance. Roses and the musk of woman. Her delicate scent edged him onward as he rested his head against her lushness, savoring the feel of her, the taste, the wonder.

  For this moment, he wasn’t famous. He wasn’t a father, a son, a brother. Although he was all those things, he was none. Freedom born of desire claimed him for its own. He found his strength in surrender, gave himself up willingly to the woman who rode him. Simply a man.

  *

  Champagne buzzed around in her head. Mixed with leftover adrenaline, it created a flammable combination that flowed through her. Her skin positively sang with energy. She vowed to purge herself of desire for this man. Tonight.

  If she could just have her way with him, she’d finish it. It seemed to work for her. The few times she’d had sex since Josh’s death, she took control. Once she finished, it was over.

  She could feel his hands caress her back, then slide around to tentatively cup her breasts. Pausing a moment, he groaned deep in his chest. She felt his resistance melt. Tyler gave in and held her firmly as he lowered his head to lick and suck.

  Her stroking fingers found a tiny hole in the shoulder of his t-shirt. Driven by the need to feel his flesh against her own, she tore. His t-shirt ripped off sideways, exposing most of his upper body. She ran her fingers over his muscled chest, curled them through whorls of tawny hair that disappeared into his jeans.

  The beast inside her jerked free, demanded satisfaction. Small animal noises came from her throat. She could feel herself growling her passion, helpless to stop. The button on his jeans fell prey to her searching fingers.

  Morgan pulled herself away from his greedy mouth to sit back and work at his zipper. Finally she worked it low enough to reach in and free him.

  Her skin sizzled at the places their flesh met. Hands, arms, chest, belly. Hot. She was so hot, she ached for him.

  Shaking legs barely held her when she stood over him. She backed away a step and, with her usual economy of motion, slipped out of her shorts and dampened panties. From the tiny front pocket, she grabbed the foil packet. Her hands trembled as she tore it open, and sheathed him.

  Their eyes met in silent agreement. No turning back. Only forward. Whatever the outcome, they both wanted this. Desperately.

  Necessity required she keep her platform sandals on. One couldn’t retain control by not being able to touch the ground from a mounted position.

  Driven, she lowered herself on him. Never in her memory had she been like this. Crazy with passion, blind with need.

  Wet and ready, she tightened her thighs and buttocks, rose and dropped until she reached the base of him. He filled her. Completed her.

  She turned his head away when his lips tried to connect with hers. Kisses weren’t part of her plan. If he hadn’t wanted to kiss her before, she wouldn’t kiss him now.

  Perverse though it would be, she bit him instead. Right on the tender area where his shoulder and neck met. His flesh in her mouth, she rode him, hard, and harder still. Her nails raked his back while her thighs kept up the momentum. Her breasts bounced, nipples grazing his chest deepening the intensity of the movement. She could feel his hands welded to her hips, working with the motion.

  They were lost. Faster. They were connected in a way neither had been before. Harder. Morgan leaned back, her hands firmly on his shoulders. Flaming blue eyes burned into hers. Sweat-slicked skin pounded to the tempo of the blood that raged beneath. The scent of passion filled the air carrying a hint of cinnamon and roses.

  She could feel her muscles tighten, her breath fast and short. Straining, her release built up steam as he drove himself upward and into her, as she dropped on him and rose again.

  Teeth bared, she screamed his name as she drove them both, careening over the edge into madness.

  Orgasm hit her, splintering her world into only sensation.

  The grip of her sex brought him. Holding her motionless, he roared. His head thrown back, his neck muscles corded, his body shuddered as his seed poured from him. With a breath she barely heard, he spun off into oblivion with her.

  Chapter 13

  Dusk died away unnoticed, replaced by evening brightened into day with pole after pole of stadium lights.

  Morgan stood alone at the counter in the racecar hauler. Well, as alone as she could get these days with cameras following her every move. Even now the black, round nose was pointed at her. Mostly, she ignored it and the man behind it. Every now and then she tried to rile him by flipping him off. It never worked. Blake just laughed.

  She carefully rubbed the mud off her helmet with a soft damp cloth, preferring to do it herself rather than leave it for one of the crew.

  While she scrubbed at the spots, her thoughts drifted. Right down the same road they’d traveled many times today, despite her best efforts otherwise. Back to her last night in Georgia, and Tyler. Even though several days had passed, the memories still made her tingle and brought a smile to her lips. Thank goodness she’d been able to ditch the camera guys before she’d found his room.

 
; When they’d finished, he’d kissed her. Cupped her face gently, then kissed her senseless. Softly, carefully, almost reverently. He’d breathed one word close to her ear in a whisper. “Thanks.” For what?

  Tyler’s gentleness in the face of her wild behavior nearly undid her. The woman who faced death every day ran for the bathroom like a coward.

  By the time she’d gathered up enough courage to come back out, Tyler had been fully clothed and sound asleep on the bed. Apparently he’d drifted off waiting for her.

  Morgan had hovered and watched him for a moment, noting how sleep eased the lines of stress around his eyes. In repose, he was beautiful. Thick, tawny lashes rested on commanding cheekbones, as though crafted in the likeness of a Greek god. Full lips slightly parted, breathing deep and even. Washed with peacefulness which, she guessed, came in short supply during his waking hours.

  Her heart had wanted nothing more than to curl up next to him and cuddle. Fear of her own response moved her feet quickly and quietly to the door. Life on the road didn’t include time for entanglements. As always, within hours she’d be on her way to another race, in another town. With one last backward glance, Morgan slipped out.

  The sound of running feet abruptly forced her wandering mind back to the present.

  “Morgan!” She heard the childish squeal, felt the punch of a body slamming into her legs. The warm smell of innocence bathed her senses as slender arms wrapped themselves around her waist.

  “Hey, Annie. How are you feeling? You’re daddy told me you were sick. I missed you in Georgia.”

  Familiar cerulean eyes shined from Annie’s face. “I’m all better now. What’s that?” Annie questioned pointing to the narrow, clear sheets of paper-thin plastic stacked next to her helmet.

  “Those are tear-offs. They go on the front of my helmet to help me see when I get mud on it. Want to help me put them on?”