by Ginger Scott
I’m panting, not able to hide how flushed I am, how out of breath I am, how fucking needy I am. My fingernails rake down his chest as he moves up my body, leaving what I’m sure will be a trail of pink scratches down his skin. When I reach the button his pants, I work it undone quickly, and Dustin holds his weight above me on his forearms as he slides them down his hips along with his boxers.
“I love you, Hannah,” he says, his head falling against mine.
I lift my chin until our lips touch.
“I love you,” I say just before our kiss prevents words.
My hands grasp his hips as his tip slides against my wet center, my legs widening, begging. He’s holding back and I know it’s because he wants to get a condom, but I can’t wait. I don’t care. I’ll have his babies. I’ll have an entire family with this man. I can’t think of a life more complete than that.
“It’s okay,” I say, my palms on his face as he slips back enough to let me see his strained face. His eyes are squeezed shut so tight, his forehead pained.
“Dustin. I want this, with you. Right now. I don’t care. We don’t need protection. It’s only us. Always,” I say.
His eyes open as he pushes into me. My center swells, the ache so sweet, so hungry, and I lift my hips slightly to urge him deeper, and he listens, rocking into me and filling me completely. It knocks my breath from my lungs, and I see the instant concern in his eyes.
“Don’t stop” I grab his hips and stretch my mouth into a smile. I pull him into me again, and he groans as I do.
Dustin cages me between his arms, his lips taking tender passes at mine, suckling and nibbling my mouth as his hips rock and he pushes in and out of me. The pace is painfully slow but I wouldn’t rush it for the world. He’s drawing this out on purpose, taking his time, giving me pleasure before taking what he wants.
He draws my leg up to the side and turns so we’re lying side-by-side, his cock never leaving me. Things feel different this way, better, if that’s possible. I slip my arms free of my sleeves so my breasts are fully exposed. To be honest, I’m turned on by the way he looks at them. I’ve never felt my body was anything special, but under Dustin’s gaze, I feel sexy and supple.
“Ride me,” he asks, and the mere fact he can ask me to turns me on so much that I shift my hips the second he asks and move so I’m straddling him.
My hands find the center of his chest for balance, and he traps my wrists as I sink down on him completely. My head falls back at the feeling of being this full. I sit still as he stretches me wider. When one of his hands leaves my wrists, I dip my chin to see him reach forward and press his palm against me. The sensation rocks me, and a spasm renders my body limp. I fall into him.
“Come for me, Hannah.”
I move with him, his hands gripping my ass now, pushing me into him while his hips rock up to meet me thrust for thrust. The feeling builds and my skin gets hotter and hotter, my dress sticking to my thighs, our skin sticking to one another with the light sheen of sweat that builds as we both chase that feeling over the edge.
I tighten around him in complete release as he explodes inside of me, emptying himself with several hard thrusts that threaten to take me away again. I’m dizzy. I’m satiated. I’ve never felt more a part of a whole, less alone.
I love this man.
“I love you,” he says just as I think it.
21
“Gorman Truit is here.”
I think this might be the fifth time Tommy has said those words right to my face. I woke up groggy. I woke up late. I barely woke up without Tommy catching his sister’s naked body clinging to my side in this sorry-ass excuse for a bed.
“I got it. I hear you.” I get up from the bed, my boxers twisted around my body because, well, I just tugged those fuckers on.
“Maybe you want to get some pants on and go out there, make sure you’re still in that driver’s seat?” Tommy paces while he talks. He does that when he’s nervous. And he’s nervous.
“Have you seen him yet?” I squint through my headache. I’m sure I look hung over. I’m not; I just didn’t sleep. Didn’t want to.
“Yeah, I saw him. Shook his hand. He offered to sign a picture for me. What a douchebag!”
I squeeze myself into the tight kitchen space, pull a mug from the cabinet, and pray the coffeemaker works like it’s supposed to.
“You get a picture?” I cock an eyebrow at my friend as I fill my cup.
He parts his lips but doesn’t speak, shaking his head in admission of guilt. I laugh.
“Fuck you, all right? I don’t meet a lot of famous people.”
“Gorman Truit is hardly famous. He’s never broken the top ten.” I lean into the counter and cross my legs to mask the absolute terror rattling around my chest. Gorman has no reason to be here. He pulled out for personal issues. The rumor on the street is rehab. He’s not cleared to drive. It’s my car. For this race, it’s my car. He can’t possibly have the status to ruin that.
I gulp down half the cup, the coffee scorching my throat on its way down. I’m going to either boil this headache away or drown it.
“Good morning,” Hannah says, her tired voice floating over my shoulders and wrapping around my bare skin. I smile against my cup and Tommy sees it.
“Oh, fuck. Really?” He waves a hand at us and marches out of the RV.
I set my coffee down and let out a heavy sigh, my back to Hannah. She moves her hands around my waist and rests her head on my spine.
“Were we that obvious?”
“Guess so.” I look out at the bright landscape of the dirt lot just outside our door. Tommy swung it closed behind him but it only bounced back open.
“Gorman’s here,” I tell Hannah.
Her hands slide from my body as she slips away.
“That a good thing? Or—”
“I’m not sure.” I shrug as I turn to face her, my hand finding the back of her head and drawing her into me. I kiss her crown and soon her lips, sucking her in for strength to get through this morning. I would give anything to get in the Supra with her and drive back up the mountain.
“Hey, Dust? You in there?” Virgil knows I am. Tommy sent him.
I roll my eyes then close them as I turn to yell over my shoulder.
“Be right out!”
“You should probably put pants on,” Hannah teases, tugging at the top of my boxers.
It takes all my willpower to gather her hands together and kiss them before pushing them away. I back out of the kitchen space and offer her the rest of my coffee, which she gladly takes. I throw on a pair of jeans, my Vans and one of Gorman’s sponsor T-shirts to show some good faith, and run my fingers through my hair before hopping out of the RV. A small crowd is gathered for Gorman, his guys all pretending they miss him. I’ve learned a few things over this past week. Gorman isn’t beloved. He pays decently, and that’s why Douglas has stuck with him for so long. But he’s kind of a dick, and he doesn’t win.
“There he is!” Gorman saunters toward me as I enter the garage, and I let him pull me in for one of those hugs I really can’t stand. He slaps my back hard, and his body smells like gas station cologne. His tan is expensive. I’m guessing it’s new, from a salon last night. Have to keep those appearances up and make everyone think you’ve been on vacation. I’m not even sure his hair is naturally blond. It’s very . . . yellow.
“Hey, man. Good to see you,” I lie. My hands fall to my back pockets and my eyes scan the room to find Tommy just beyond Ernie’s shoulder. His mouth is a hard line, which is a sign that his suspicions are on full alert. Mine too, buddy. Mine too.
“What are you doing here? I didn’t think we’d get to see you.” My voice sounds nervous, like a kid. That’s what I am to him. I’m borrowing his grown-up toys.
When I started racing trucks, Gorman was one of the first guys I met on the circuit. He jumps back and forth from stock car to truck, depending on what he thinks he can do better in. His charm works for the brand, I guess. T
hey’ve been with him for four years. He’s thirty-two.
“Oh, just making the sponsor happy and doing a little check in. I wanted to see how the guys were treating you too. They treating you right?” He slings a heavy arm around me and turns to look at his crew.
“Of course,” Ernie says.
“Kid rocked the hell out of the time yesterday,” Douglas adds.
My chest tightens. I’m not sure it’s a good thing to let Gorman know how well I’m doing. He strikes me as a fragile ego. I squint one eye and scratch my forehead, playing humble. Really, though? I didn’t just rock the time. I destroyed his. If I can keep that pace up next weekend, I’m placing—something Gorman’s never done.
“Really?” His voice feigns interest and pride. I read right through it to its frightened, threatened guts. And that’s when I feel the tickle of the dark side. The other Dustin is waking up. The one who got that time in the first place. The one who doesn’t lose, who ignores casualties, who acts a lot like Colt.
“I mean, four seconds better than my best time, which is maybe . . . what . . . three better than yours?”
His jaw ticks and his tongue pushes into the inside of his cheek as his teeth come down on it. He laughs through his pissed-off smile. Tommy rubs his palm over his face and turns his back to me, busying himself with anything other than this conversation.
“Wow.” Gorman punctuates that single word, the warning clear in the way he says it. His heavy hand slaps my back again. “Good for you . . . kid.”
To mask the sudden silence eating all of the oxygen in the garage, Douglas claps a few times and tells the crew to get to work. We make eye contact, and I see his warning. I ignore it. I’m about to walk away when Gorman jerks me back to him, his arm tight around my shoulders, holding me to his side. He gets eerily close to my ear, and I open my stance and crack my knuckles in case I need to take a quick swing.
“You beat my times or place in that race Sunday, and you’re fucking done.” He steps back and flashes me a toothy smile with a quick raise of his brow.
My only response is to huff a quick laugh through my nostrils, which makes his tough-guy smile calm right the fuck down. He can’t intimidate me now. I’ve turned. This is a different Dustin, and sometimes, I really love being him.
It absolutely drove Gorman insane that I wouldn’t bend to his will. He tried to box me in about a dozen times. At one point, I even thought he was going to suggest we race. He’s not allowed to drive, though; I looked that little bit up when he was taking a phone call.
Now that he’s gone, I’m left with this pent up energy, and I pour it into prep with Douglas and Tommy in the garage. I think I can handle pushing the throttle a little more. Douglas worries I’ll spin out, but everything felt tight out there. My lines were on point, and if I can hold it here, on this road? I can hold it on the series track.
We compromise with a slight angle adjustment on the plate, and I’m gearing up to take it for a spin when Hannah walks into the garage, Alex Offerman’s contract in her hands.
“Hey guys, give me a sec.” I rush to her, noting the worry lines on her face. I haven’t talked to her about the details yet. I’m still not sure how to handle it myself. Tommy said it would worry her, so I’ve kept it off the table between us.
“What’s up?” I urge her into the far corner of the garage as I work on the zipper of the fire suit. She’s chewing at her lip.
“You get a chance to look it over?” I nod toward the contract in her hands. It’s not that I was hiding it from her. When she glances up at me with deep pools of blue, puppy-sad eyes, I change my mind. I was hiding it. This is why.
“Dustin, you can’t do this.”
Fuck.
I run my hand through my hair and take the heavy packet from her. I rub the back of my neck and shake the dense contract in my hand.
“I know. There are things I need to work out.”
“Dustin, he’s laundering money. It’s obvious.”
My jaw ticks at her tone. I don’t think she meant to be condescending about it, but it hits something in my chest and my defenses fire up.
“Yeah, I know. I said I’m working on it.” I toss it on an empty chair and zip my suit up all the way. I can’t bring myself to look her in the eyes. She’ll be disappointed and I need this Dustin to stick around a little longer to hit the track.
“Just promise me you won’t do something without thinking it through. Don’t get yourself tangled in something—”
“Something what? That I can’t get out of? Promise. Now, can I get back to the car?”
Fuck, that was a dick move.
I give in and glance up. She’s working so damn hard to keep her lip from quivering, but I see it. It’s too late.
“Gah!” I groan, running both palms over my face. I pinch the bridge of my nose and inhale a deep breath. “I’m sorry. That— I’m on edge. Gorman’s visit wasn’t great, and I have to do well at time trials. You’re right, and I promise, I’m going to deal with it.”
My pulse is beating so hard in my chest that it makes my stomach nauseous. Hannah’s right that I can’t keep putting Alex off. In fact, there’s a voicemail from him on my phone that I refuse to listen to. All I want to do is get through this day, and maybe the next. If I can do that, find a balance between my two selves, then the answers to my Alex issues will become clear.
“Okay,” she says, her smile fleeting. She grabs my face and presses her lips to mine, holding them there motionless, like a reminder that she is my light and that she believes in me. Thank God she does.
I join the crew again when Hannah leaves, and we take the car for a trial with the new adjustments I talked Douglas into. My lines suffer from the speed, but not by a lot. My time comes out the same, and if I can get used to the feel, I’ll be able to gain even more. I convince Douglas to leave things how they are for now under the promise that I’ll prove I can handle it. If I have to drive this track through an entire set of treads to be perfect, I will.
Tommy hangs back when everyone breaks for dinner. I’m sure he saw me and Hannah talking. I know he saw the contract. He went over and picked it up and tossed it into my duffle bag as if it’s some bit of contraband I should hide. Maybe it is.
“Alex called,” I admit to him as I straddle the stool Ernie likes to roll around this place on.
I pull my phone from my pocket and hand it to my friend. Tommy sits on the workbench in the garage and unlocks my screen to see the message.
“What’d he say?”
I shrug.
“You didn’t listen?”
I shake my head and bring my gaze up to meet his.
I’m so tired. I feel as though I can’t win. Every option leads to ruin. If I go into this business with Alex, I’m in bed with a criminal. I’m Colt. If I don’t, he steals my dream and I never get a shot at it. If I don’t show well this weekend, I get sent back to the trucks, this time without a sponsor. If I do what I know I can do? Gorman Truit is going to make ruining me his life’s mission. Of everything, Gorman worries me the least. I’ve always been able to handle the road. Driving is where I’m at my best. It’s just so damn hard to do with all this weight on my back.
“You want me to listen to it?”
I consider Tommy’s offer and decide I’ve got nothing to lose. I could use his advice, probably. “Put it on speaker.”
He does, setting my phone on the bench next to him and turning the volume all the way up.
“Dustin, you were supposed to call me.”
Our eyes meet at Alex’s ominous greeting.
“I’ve always hated that guy,” Tommy reminds me.
“You sure liked his free beer,” I fire back.
He holds a finger to his mouth, hushing me because he knows I’m right.
“I’m afraid I’m going to have to go ahead and close on my own. I do appreciate you bringing me the opportunity. It was a really nice gift. I’ll be sure to return the favor one day. Maybe . . . maybe I can host you and th
at lovely girlfriend of yours for another night in the suite.” The only sound left is his arrogant, thick, nicotine-laden laughter before he disconnects.
Tommy and I sit in silence for several seconds as I let his threat soak in. Only, it isn’t a threat anymore. It’s a big FU and him pissing all over my future.
“Fuck!” I shout, erupting from the stool and kicking it across the garage.
“Maybe he didn’t yet. You want me to call him?” He holds my phone up and I chew on that idea for a second. Tommy would love to play gangster and talk tough right back.
“No. That won’t do any good.”
I walk to the car and wrap my hands around the edge of the engine bay. Why couldn’t this problem be something I can solve in here. Tommy and I can fix anything if it’s in here. Outside this world, and I’m screwed.
“You could always . . .burn him. I mean, my dad knows a lot of people. The feds worked with your dad.”
“The feds entrapped my dad.”
“Whatever,” Tommy says. “All I’m saying is maybe you can beat him to this before he closes on his own.”
I let my gaze blur off in the distance and I work through Tommy’s scenario. It’s not impossible. It’s maybe the only way to get what I want. I snap my fingers for my phone and Tommy slides from the bench, slapping it in my palm. I hit RETURN CALL on Alex’s message and hold my breath through six rings, preparing myself for his voicemail. It picks up, his simple message of “It’s Alex. Shoot.” After the beep, I take a deep breath—and temporarily sell my soul.
“Alex. It’s Dustin. I’m in.”
My eyes flit up to meet my friends, and I swear I can see the fire burning in my own soul as I look out on the world. I end the call and cradle my phone in both hands, waiting.
A full minute passes, and the rage is building. The walls are closing in.
My phone buzzes, and I hold it up for Tommy to see.
ALEX: Thumbs up.
The game is on. I give Tommy a short nod.
“Thumbs fucking up.”