The Race

by Alice Ward

  He looked at me like I was insane.

  “Oh? So you like being fondled by a complete stranger, Mr. Cage?”

  He thought for a moment, tapping his finger on his chin. “Yes. Very much so.”

  I shook my head. “I’m not sure if that makes you a pretty boy or a pervert.”

  He’d started to walk toward the next piece of equipment, an inclined weight bench, and I followed him, wondering if I could make a run for it before he put me through another series of exercises. “Hey. Don’t knock it till you try it.”

  “No thanks. I’d probably start giggling,” I grumped. “I’m actually very ticklish.”

  He seemed surprised by this nugget of information because he stopped adjusting the weight bench and looked at me. “Truly? Where?”

  We were standing toe-to-toe in front of the bench. I looked up at him and gave him a sexy smile. It was too easy to flirt with him, too comfortable. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

  He pointed at the bench. “Sit.”

  I crossed my arms and planted my feet. “Oh, hell no. No more legs.”

  He put up his hands, conceding. “All right. Core then.”

  I groaned.

  “You gotta work your core every day.”

  I slumped onto the bench, pouting. “All right, but will it hurt me that much if I start tomorrow?”

  He ignored that. “Lie back.”

  I did, wondering what torture he had in store for me now. He fiddled with something under the bench, and I felt the part of the bench supporting my head lowering down. Ugh, this was not comfortable in any way. Before I could ask him what the hell he was up to, I saw him grinning at me.

  “Do your crunches on an incline for maximum results.”

  Lying with my head near the ground and the rest of my body up in the air, I looked at my knees, and they seemed so very far away. Gravity wouldn’t be helping me. He positioned my arms behind my ears.

  “Okay, now. Lift. Don’t hunch forward. Fist’s width between your chin and your chest. Go ahead. Count them out. Twenty in each set.”

  I grunted and strained upward, but only made it a couple inches. I made it another inch before pure, unadulterated pain set in. All I’d done all my life was crunches, so I should’ve been a pro at this. But this kind of contortion was damn near impossible. The human body was not meant to go this way.

  I finally managed one before falling back down to the cushion. “One,” I croaked.

  “Half of one,” he corrected. “Got to get up higher than that.”

  “Damn you to hell,” I gasped, going up for the next one. “I’ll make a deal with you.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “Ten, and… I’ll tell you where I’m ticklish.”

  He didn’t hesitate. He put out his hand, and we shook on it.

  The next nine weren’t so hard. Once I got used to the blood rushing to my head, it wasn’t as terrible as I thought, and I did feel it deep in my abdominals.

  “Good,” he said when I was done. He shifted the weight bench so that it was level again, and I sat up, straddling the bench, leaning forward to stretch out my core. No way in hell was I doing another exercise for the rest of the night. I grabbed a towel and began to swab off my forehead as he watched me intently.

  I loved it. I loved seeing all his control flagging. I could’ve waited all day like this, just to see him sweat it out, the way he’d made me sweat.

  Finally, he said, “And?”

  “And what?”

  His voice was calm, but there was tension in his features. “Our deal?”

  “Oh, that.” I grinned up at him and batted my eyelashes. “Everywhere.”

  He narrowed his eyes, disbelieving. “Really?”

  “I’m serious. I don’t do so good with tickling.”

  “Yeah?” He leaned forward, eyes roving over my body. I knew what that look was. He was going to test out that notion.

  And I couldn’t wait.

  “So, if I touched you on someplace like… here?” He reached out and touched the top of my hand.

  No, it wasn’t ticklish. It was electric. I held in a breath, let it out slow. “Yes.”

  His fingers walked lighter than a breeze up my forearm. “Here?”

  I could’ve pulled away, told him to stop, but I didn’t want to. I felt heavy, like gravity was pressing me down harder than before. Pressing me toward him. “Yes,” I managed to breathe out, wiggling into his touch.

  His fingers skirted my waist, and he gave it a little tweak. I burst out laughing, grabbed for his hand, but he was too quick. He took that wrist first, then the other, rendering me immobile. He dragged me up to standing, and as I stood there, with barely an inch between us, I felt the heat rushing off his body.

  He stared down at me, his eyes dark with desire, hands holding me firm.

  Then he lowered his mouth onto mine. There was no tentativeness. I got the feeling he never hesitated when he claimed what was his. No, he kissed me savagely from the first. I gasped against his mouth in surprise, but that didn’t stop him.

  “You drive me crazy,” he said against my mouth as he walked me backward until a bench hit the back of my legs. “Crazy. Hard as I try, I can’t think of anything but you.”

  I moved my hands to his face, pulling his mouth back down on mine. I knew exactly what he meant. I felt the same. A moment of sanity entered my mind and I pushed against his chest. “Are you sure?”

  His nostrils flared as he shook his head. “I’m not sure about any of this. Emma.”

  It was the first time he’d ever said my name. I leaned into it, loving the way the M sound vibrated on his lips, long and low and sexy.

  I wasn’t sure about any of this, either, but at that point, I no longer cared.

  Hands on my shoulders, he pressed me down until I sat on the bench before kneeling in front of me. I was surprised when he did nothing more. He just buried his face in my neck, not doing anything but breathing into my sweaty skin.

  And I understood. He was still at war with himself. He was trying to find the willpower to leave. A part of him felt like what we were doing was wrong. Because he was a good man. An honorable man. I knew that down in my core.

  Across the way, in the workout mirror, I saw him kneeling before me, his strong back muscles rippling under his shirt. I ran my hands under the sweaty material and up his spine to his shoulder blades, just relishing him as he held me. I felt his heat and his breath and was powerless to do anything but be his.

  “I want you too, Locke,” I whispered, pressing my lips to his temple. “I don’t think it’s wrong. I think it’s inevitable.”

  His only movement was to squeeze me tighter, and I watched his muscles flex in the mirror. “I’ve tried to stay away for you. I may own you, but not like this,” he murmured, not even a whisper, just a breath I felt on my ear. “But dammit, I can’t help it.”

  Taking his face in my hands, I pushed until he broke free of me. I gave him a gentle smile before peeling my bra top over my head. I was sweaty, and a part of me wanted to rush to the shower before anything went further. But the other part of me knew this was exactly how our love making should be. Sweaty. Raw. Real.

  “I want this,” I told him as I tossed the top to the side. “I want you. Ever since that night at my apartment, you’ve been all I can think about.”

  His eyes darkened as they roved down my body, and he licked his lips. He ran a finger down my side, and it flirted with the edge of my gym shorts. “Emma, I need to taste you. Now. All I can think about is tasting you. Take these off.”

  I let out a shaky breath. I looked down at my gym shorts and slipped them off, kicking them and my shoes into a pile beside my workout bra, leaving me naked while he was completely clothed. His eyes raked over my body, and I started to tremble. I was so hot, an unbearable need coiling in my belly.

  There could be no mistaking it. It was desire, and only Locke Cage could quench it.

  He reached out, sliding his fingers do
wn my belly, which clenched at his touch. He positioned me in front of the weight bench and gently nudged me down. “Lie back,” he instructed. “Spread your legs.”

  I did, anticipation causing me to tremble as he settled between my thighs. Our eyes met over the length of my body. When he hesitated, I whispered, “Please.” The word had barely formed and disappeared before his tongue, his amazing hot tongue, flicked over my clit. “Oh!” I gasped.

  I lifted my head to watch in the floor-to-ceiling mirror. There, I saw his muscular back straining, his arms wrapped around my legs, pulling me closer to him. It was the most sensual moment of my life, watching his head bobbing as he ate me, moving in a steady rhythm, like he couldn’t get enough. Like I was his very last meal.

  “Yeah, that’s right,” he breathed into my folds. “Damn, you’re sweet.”

  I blushed at first at his words, but then all shame fell away. He liked this. I tossed my head back as he lapped away at my clit, unrelenting. I stifled a moan that wanted to be a scream because, god, I’d never felt anything like what he was doing to me.

  I threw back my head. I writhed on the bench, arching and bucking in time to his tongue’s lapping. I coiled my fingers in his thick hair and pushed his face into me harder. And just when I thought it couldn’t get better, he slid a finger, then two into my depths.

  And holy shit, I went insane. I screamed and bit down hard on my hand. “No!” I mumbled hoarsely. “Oh, god, no! No more!”

  “You want me to stop?” he breathed into my folds, and I saw the effort it took him to pull away.

  “No. Please, no.”

  He grinned and slowly eased another finger into me, making me shudder uncontrollably. He slid them in and out in time to my thrusts against him as his mouth did wonderful things to my clit. I felt myself being pushed to the edge, to the point of no return, where resistance was impossible. Stifling what was inside me was impossible. I keened, arching and bucking against his face in a whirlwind.

  “Oh God, Locke, please…” I found myself begging. Please, what? I didn’t even know what I wanted from him. Just more of this.

  Suddenly, I was exploding. Screaming and sobbing and falling to pieces, with his fingers buried deep inside me. He carried me over to oblivion, holding tight to me as I spasmed and trembled uncontrollably.

  Then he climbed up my shuddering body, the stubble around his mouth glistening. I blushed, hard and hot.

  “Oh my god,” I mumbled. “Fuck.”

  “Emma,” he said with a grin, and he kissed me again. “I’ve never tasted anything as sweet as you.”

  I’d never had such a fervent lover before. Never had anyone been so willing to pleasure me. I thought of back home and the few men I’d known. No, not men. Boys. The ones I’d had in the back of their pickup trucks.

  For some reason I’d never understand, something Brody said to me planted itself in my mind: You’re gonna be a long ways from Wintersburg.

  The sense of fulfillment ebbed and was replaced by a deep, gaping hole of guilt.

  Brody.

  Guilt surged through me, followed quickly by shame.

  What would my brother think if he knew what I was doing? Drivers only got one real chance to make it big. He’d told me that he didn’t value his one chance until after he lost it. He’d made a stupid mistake, one stupid mistake, trying to get out from behind that one car, and he’d lost everything.

  What if this was my stupid mistake?

  Locke felt amazing. He was hot, and irresistible, and… clearly a good lover. But entangling with my boss was so stupid. At best, it could cause all sorts of sticky feelings, resentment, awkwardness.

  At worst, it could bring this whole thing down.

  He lifted me off the bench to kiss him again, and I knew what came next. I looked at my naked body in the mirror and was so ashamed.

  I pushed him away and leapt to my feet, panic seizing me. “You know…” I backed away, not even bothering to pick up my discarded clothes. “I think I don’t feel so well. I’d better…”

  He reached for me, and every part of me wanted to step back into his arms. But I couldn’t. We couldn’t. I had to go.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered and fled to the locker room. I expected him to follow me, and when he didn’t, I leaned against the cool wall in relief. After another few moments, I splashed water on my face and quickly dressed in the extra clothes I kept there.

  When I had no more reason to linger, I quietly opened the door and stepped back into the gym. My heart pounded hard when I realized he hadn’t left.

  Instead, he was on the bench, breathing so hard he was groaning as he pressed the barbell over his head at a furious pace.

  I didn’t disturb him. I slipped out of there without a sound, and went back, alone, to my apartment.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Locke

  “What is up with you?” Laura asked me the moment I stepped into the back of the Audi A8, heading for headquarters.

  I’d been paging through my phone, responding to emails about a thousand big and little UnCaged Fitness fires. I frowned at her. “What do you mean?”

  “You’ve been acting moody all week.”

  “No, I haven’t.”

  That was the truth. It was more like the past two weeks. Ever since the night in the gym with Emma. That time, she’d left me wanting more, which was probably fair turnabout considering how I’d left her in the apartment.

  I’d seen her since then, but I always made sure we were never alone together. I did my best not to look directly at her, since every time I did, I thought of her taste. Her scent. The feel of her skin under my fingers. The sounds she made as I worshipped her with my tongue.

  It was all a lesson in insanity, considering how I held the hands of most of my properties. But Emma? My largest investment, the one I should have been paying closest attention to?

  I couldn’t.

  Well, not obviously, at least.

  We’d hired a new trainer, an older drill sergeant named Rinaldo who was one of the best and had been training athletes for over forty years. Sometimes, I’d go to the locker room overlooking the gym and watch her through the one-way glass. She looked so calm, so focused. I’d see Rinaldo putting his hands on her muscles as she strained in her workout bra and gym shorts, wishing I could have that luxury. She was so gorgeous, her sculpted parts moving as she pushed weights or worked the machines. I watched her, knowing I had to forget how much I wanted her.

  But that only made me think of her more. I could still taste her, feel her body quivering under my hands.

  I squared my jaw as we pulled to the front of the building that morning for the official press conference. As expected, news vans from all the major outlets were parked outside, and various reporters were milling about with equipment. They’d all be assembling for hours. I’d be expected to deliver news about my latest acquisition, and how she was going to perform for UnCaged, when all I could think about Emma was the way she’d performed for me, coming on my mouth, her pussy hot and trembling as I delved my tongue deep inside her.

  And I certainly couldn’t tell the press about that.

  “Well, buck up and get ready to be your charming self. You’re on in thirty minutes.” Laura checked her phone and sighed. “Uh-oh. Thar she blows.”

  I leaned over, grabbed my bottle of water, and downed half of it. “What?”

  “Our little tomboy is having another makeup meltdown. Adlar just texted me that she’s having trouble with the curling iron or something.”

  That piqued my interest. “Why would he even attempt using anything hot around her? That’s suicide.”

  “Tell me about it.” She sighed. “And Victoria’s having a hard time getting her to agree on anything that she wants to do.”

  I frowned. Victoria was the image consultant we’d hired, a stiff, silver-haired woman straight from New York City who wore nothing but black and spoke with a pseudo-British accent. She was used to fixing up women who wanted to dress to th
e nines, who welcomed all that glitz and glamour. Adlar too. They’d done our other Like a Girl spokespersons, but none of them had been a tomboy down to their marrow. They didn’t understand that Emma James wasn’t that kind of woman. She needed to be eased into these changes. How hard was it to see that and go easy on her?

  The driver opened the door for us, and I slid out. “Where is she?”

  “We set him up in my office.” She checked her phone again. “And we’re having issues with the mics in the conference room.”

  “Go deal with those. I’ll talk to Miss James,” I said, half-loathing the idea, half-relishing it. As I hurried to her office on the third floor, I adjusted my tie. I rarely wore them, which was why it suddenly felt like it was choking me.

  When I got inside the expansive room, Adlar was standing with his hands on his hips, frowning at Emma. He grabbed me the moment he saw me. “Tell her. Tell her I can’t do my job unless she lets me.”

  “He wanted to give me a blowout!” Emma snapped. “That sounds painful. Or dirty.”

  Adlar sighed. “I assure you, it is neither!”

  I stared at her reflection. Dark hair down upon her shoulders in messy waves, she was pouting at the mirror. I could see why. Adlar must have mistaken her for one of his Hollywood starlets, because her eyes were rimmed in kohl and makeup was caked on her skin, covering that smattering of cute freckles.

  She looked hot, yes. But she didn’t look like Emma, the gorgeous Emma I’d tongue-fucked in the gym two weeks ago. I whirled her chair around toward me and said to Adlar, “It’s fine. I’ll take it from here.”

  Adlar mumbled something that must have been a German curse, threw up his hands, and left. I stooped down to eye level and studied her. “Are you always going to give Adlar heart palpitations?”

  Her expression turned even more mulish. “I—”

  “He’s very good at his job,” I continued, leaning against the makeup station. “Top models and movie stars sit in his chair.”

  She snarled, her upper lip curling in disgust. “Look at me! I look like a raccoon with a hangover! And he doesn’t know what’s good for him,” she said, crossing her arms under the plastic apron. “If he did, he’d keep that stuff away from me.”