by Jaci Burton
Looking for who? Mike? As if by some miracle he’d show up? That he’d be so miserable without her he’d fly back from Oklahoma, swing her into his arms and tell her he couldn’t live without her, that they’d find some way to make this work?
Ha! She’d long ago stopped believing in fairy tales. The harsh reality of her childhood had cured those fantasies.
It was damn time she snapped out of it and got back to her life and her club. That was her real love. Her forever love. The one that would always be there for her. The one that would never cause her pain. This was her choice and she damn well better get back to loving it.
But how was she going to erase Mike? How was she going to forget the wild nights spent in his arms, the taste of his lips, the feel of his hands on her body? How was she going to forget what it felt like to sleep tucked up against him? How was she going to forget how she felt when they were together, the kind of person she was when she was with him? She’d laughed more, she’d relaxed more, she’d felt safe and comforted when he was with her. For the first time in her life, she’d felt as if she could be who she really was with a man. Without games, without just sex being involved. She could talk to Mike about anything and everything and he never once judged her for what she was and the paths she’d chosen.
How was she going to forget loving him?
Dammit, she had no experience with this. She didn’t know how to handle it. She moved to the bar and asked the bartender for a glass of wine, smiling and visiting with the clients there.
But soon they moved off to the playrooms, the night grew late and she found herself alone.
Loneliness wrapped itself around her like a cold blanket. She shivered as the front door opened. It was cold out tonight. Her bouncers had probably moved inside to get away from the chilled wind.
“Need some warming, babe?”
She almost knocked her drink over as she twirled around on the bar stool, convinced the voice she heard had to be her imagination.
It wasn’t.
“Mike!” For a split second she’d thought about acting cool, but then threw that right out the window. She flew off the barstool and launched herself into his arms. He caught her, his mouth meeting hers in a hot, bone-melting kiss.
This time she didn’t care about the tears. She let them come. They spilled down her cheeks as his lips moved over hers, his tongue sliding inside her mouth. She shuddered in his embrace, wrapping her arms so tightly around his neck she was certain she cut off his circulation. She didn’t care. He was here!
When she finally let go, he set her down on her feet, smiling at her. “God, I missed you, Grace.”
She blinked away the tears. “I missed you, too.” She grabbed his hand and signaled to the floor manager. “I’m gone for the night.”
The manager grinned and nodded, waving her off.
The ride up the elevator was excruciatingly long. She latched onto Mike’s hand, refusing to let go. “Why are you here?”
“I told you. I missed you.” He pulled her against him again, kissing her long and hard and by the time he broke the kiss, she had no doubt how much he had in fact missed her. The rigid length of his cock pressed against her hip as he palmed her lower back to push her closer to him.
The elevator opened and Mike picked her up in his arms. They didn’t make it very far, though. She’d thought about this moment the entire week—reuniting with him, his desperation to see her, her own need drilling her into a frenzied anticipation. She wanted it so badly her body thrummed with anxious expectation. She wasn’t going to be denied, and thank God he wasn’t going to be either.
He slammed her up against the living room wall and lifted her dress. She was already wet when he pulled her panties to the side, jerking down his zipper and freeing his cock. His gaze was so intense it was shocking, thrilling her, making her wet with anticipation and need.
She was sobbing when he entered her, lifting her with one hand on her ass. She wrapped her legs around his hips and slid down on his shaft, her pussy pulsing. With a hard thrust he drove into her again and again, his strokes long and deep. He was telling her without words how much he needed her. He was claiming her, making her his, and she was accepting it all, claiming him right back.
God yes, she needed him, needed him inside her, a part of her. She held on, reveling in his possession of her, raining kisses all over his lips, his jaw, murmuring to him the entire time. She couldn’t get enough of him, wanting him to crawl as deeply inside of her as possible. Arching against him, she gave him full access and he took it, slamming against her until she splintered.
She came hard, crying out and raking her nails down his shoulders. He dug his fingers into her ass as he emptied into her, burying his face into the crook of her neck and groaning as he rode out a long orgasm, his body pressed full-length against hers.
It was possible she’d be content to be held like this forever. But he let her down, held her against him while she found her footing on very shaky legs.
“Welcome back,” she said, pressing a light kiss to his lips.
“I’m glad to be back.”
After they readjusted their clothing, she sat on the sofa and he went with her, pulling her across his lap. She dragged her fingers through his hair, still not quite believing he was here.
“I’m never going to forgive you for this, you know,” she said, resting her hand on his chest.
He arched a quizzical brow. “For what?”
“For turning a sexually confident woman of the world into a quivering, weepy mass of feminine hormones. I’ve been a mess.”
He tilted his head back and laughed. “Well it’s only justice, babe. You turned an arrogant, alpha, don’t-give-a-shit male into an emotional, caring wreck of contradictions.”
She cast him a smug smile. “Good. Then we’re perfectly suited for each other.”
Then he went serious on her, cupping her cheek with the palm of his hand. “We have to make this work, Grace. It was hell last week without you.”
Her heart swelled, broke a little, and the tears came again. “How? You live across the country.”
“Right now I do. I’ve been doing this a long time. I’ve invested well. I can have a veterinary practice anywhere. Carl was talking at the conference about how he wanted to retire over a year ago, but he wants to sell his practice since he doesn’t have kids to hand it down to. He’s leery of just anyone taking it over. He wants a vet he knows and trusts.”
“Carl? The vet who owns the ranch where we went riding?”
“Yeah. He has a practice in Las Vegas.”
“You would consider buying his practice here?”
He smiled, swept his hand across her hair. “I would.”
“What about ties to your home? Your family?”
“My life is my own. I can live it wherever I want. I want to live it where you are, Grace. I’m in love with you.”
Oh. Wow. Damn. That was a big admission. Her heart thudded against her chest and a wave of nausea hit her. She swung her legs around and bent over, shoving her head between her knees.
“Uh, Grace?”
“Yes.” The blood rushed to head, but she was clearing a bit now.
“Are you going to be sick?”
“I’m considering it.”
“So, me telling you that I love you makes you want to throw up?”
She giggled. She really couldn’t help it. Raising her head, she swept her hair away from her face. “I’m sorry. No one ever told me that before. I wasn’t prepared for it.”
God, she was handling this badly.
“I see.”
She felt awful about the confused look on his face and knew she needed to set him straight right away. She sat upright and faced him.
“Mike, I love you, too. I’ve been sick all week. My heart hurt. It’s never hurt before. I’ve never been so unhappy. I hated feeling this miserable.”
“Really?”
She laughed at the hopeful expression on his face. “Yeah.
Really. I’ve never been in love before. I don’t know how to handle it.”
“Neither do I.” He took her hands. “I know you value your independence, Grace. I would never want to take that away from you. I love what you do for a living. I love Wild Nights. It’s what makes you who you are and I’d be damned angry if you gave that up for anyone or any reason.”
Could she possibly love this man even more? He was everything she wanted but never thought existed. A man who would let her be herself, a man who loved her and didn’t feel the need to change her.
“So what do we do now?”
“Now we realize that we love each other and take it a day at a time. Build on that, and see what happens. I’m going to buy Carl out, take a leave of absence from the clinic in Oklahoma, and take over his practice here.”
“You’ll really do it. You’ll move out here just to be with me?”
“If you want that.”
“Yes, I want that!” She kissed him, pouring out her emotions, holding nothing back. When she pulled away she said, “You know, I’m long overdue for a vacation. This place runs itself. I might want to check out the wild life in Oklahoma, see where you live. Maybe enjoy sex outside with the wind whipping through my hair.”
He tugged on her ponytail. “I seem to recall you enjoying that.”
“I did.”
“Just like I enjoy that sexy club you run. Be prepared for me to spend a lot of my nights there.”
She affected a heavy sigh. “Okay, if you must. As long as you don’t mind having sex in dark corners of the club, or engaging in voyeurism, a little mutual masturbation, maybe playing in the kink room, or any of the other wonders Wild Nights has to offer. With just me as your partner, of course.”
“That works both ways, darlin’. I might have enjoyed watching you put on that show with Den, but we’re exclusive now. I don’t share what’s mine.”
She thrilled to his possession of her, something she never thought possible. But he was right. There was no other man for her but Mike. “I’m all yours. And you’re all mine.”
Mike smoothed his hand over her hip, his gaze filled with sensual promise. “I think I might have just found the woman of my dreams.”
And Grace had discovered that fairy-tale princes did exist, after all.
Read on for a sneak peek at Jaci Burton’s next Play-by-Play novel
ONE SWEET RIDE
Available June 2013 from Berkley Books
One
There was nothing that got Gray Preston’s motor revving more than a well-running engine, a fast car crossing the finish line in first place, and a hot, willing woman waiting for him at the end of a great day.
Too bad a blown engine had sent his car into the wall three laps shy of the finish line in Michigan. He’d been in second place and coming up alongside his competitor in a hurry, certain he’d be able to wrestle first place from Cal McClusky before the checkered flag.
That dream had gone up in smoke. So had the hot woman, one Sheila Tinsdale, a frequent visitor to his trailer and his bed over the past month. Smoking hot, platinum blonde, and stacked, Sheila put no strings on him and liked sex as much as he did. She was damn near the perfect woman.
Unfortunately, Sheila also had her eye on McClusky, and she bedded winners. So when McClusky crossed the finish line and Gray hit the wall, Sheila hit McClusky’s trailer faster than Gray’s Chevy had spun out on turn three.
Not that he was surprised, and it hadn’t hurt his feelings. Much. He wasn’t emotionally invested in Sheila, and there were plenty more like her on the racing circuit.
So he had a big fat zero for today’s events. No win, a smashed-up car, and no consolation sex. Plus, he’d dropped two spots in the points race and had a disappointed crew to deal with. As the owner of two cars for Preston Racing, and the driver of car number fifty-three, responsibility weighed heavily on him.
It was his goal to make something of himself, especially since he’d broken away from his former owner and gone out on his own two years ago. He had a lot to prove—to himself, to his team, to his fans, and…
It probably didn’t do him any good to think about just how much he had to prove. And how much it would cost him, financially and otherwise, if he failed.
At least it was still early in the season. There was time to make up the ground he’d lost in today’s race.
He made his way to the team garage where his crew was busy, their heads under the hood of his car.
His crew chief lifted his head. “That sucked today.”
Gray nodded at Ian Smart. He and Ian had been together since Gray had first climbed into a race car, before he’d ever gone pro. “Understatement. Oil temp was screaming high toward the end. I pushed it too hard. But damn—I was so close.”
As Gray leaned over and inspected the engine, Ian nudged him with his shoulder. “That’s what you gotta do to win the race, buddy. Nothing you can do about it. We’ll get ’em next time.”
Yeah. Next time. He knew all about loss. His father was a senator, so he’d grown up around campaigns, around strategies for winning, and what you did to regroup when you didn’t win.
Though his father rarely lost a race. He’d be disappointed in Gray’s performance today. That was if he ever bothered to watch him race, which Gray knew damn well he didn’t. Mitchell Preston wouldn’t be caught dead lowering himself to watch auto racing. He considered it a redneck sport and beneath him. His father was involved in a big election this year and was more interested in his own race—which Gray had no doubt his father would win.
Gray lost a hell of a lot more races than his father ever had. Something his dad absolutely hated. Then again, his father disliked everything Gray did, as he had ever since Gray had turned down the Harvard scholarship and chosen the sports scholarship to Oklahoma. That had royally pissed off his dad, too.
At least that memory put Gray in a decidedly better frame of mind.
“Donny did pretty good, though. He rolled in twelfth.”
Gray dragged his attention back to Ian. “Not bad, but I know he can do better. He needs to work on his focus more. I’ll talk to him and his crew chief.”
At least he could salvage something out of this shit day. Donny Duncan drove the new car Gray had brought into Preston Racing this season. At twenty-four, Donny was still a little green, having just made the switch to this level two years ago. But the kid had raw talent and great instincts. Gray was confident that if he continued to push Donny he’d see winning results.
Gray made the turn to head toward his trailer and saw someone waiting at his door.
Not just someone. A very attractive, way-overdressed-for-the-track female wearing a business suit and very high heels. He gave her an assessing look as he made his way toward her.
Media, maybe? Though he’d finished his interviews earlier.
She pulled down her sunglasses and gave him the once-over, too.
“Grayson Preston?”
Wow. She was a stunner, with her strawberry blonde hair expertly pulled up, her blue eyes assessing him, and her lips perfectly glossed. She sure as hell didn’t belong here. Besides, nobody on the racing circuit called him Grayson. Hell, only his mom called him by that name. And his father.
“Yeah. And you are?”
She walked toward him, her steps sure and confident, then held out her hand. “Evelyn Hill. Do you have a moment?”
For her, he had a lot of moments. He shook her hand, noticing her manicured nails. Not those long, fake, clawlike nails some of the women around here wore. Evelyn’s were short and unpainted. “Sure. Come on in.”
He opened up the door to his trailer and waited while she climbed the stairs, which gave him an opportunity to ogle her very shapely legs and mighty fine ass. Too bad her skirt covered her knees. Normally the women around here wore their skirts a lot shorter. Then again, normally the women hitting on the racers didn’t dress like they were going to have high tea somewhere.
She moved into the living area and he
shut the door.
“What can I do for you, Evelyn?”
She turned to face him and gave him a smile. A practiced, professional, very businesslike smile. “I’m here representing your father, Senator Preston.”
Just as he was focusing his radar on her, she had to go and ruin it by working for his father. Though at least he was sending better emissaries now. Gray went to his fridge and grabbed a beer. “Want one?”
“Oh. No, thank you.”
He popped the top off the can and took a long swallow, his throat parched from all those laps and the interviews he’d had to do after the disastrous finish. “Did you see the race today?”
“As a matter of fact, I did. I’m sorry about your wreck, but I’m relieved you weren’t hurt.”
He shrugged. “It wasn’t that hard a hit.” He pointed to the small table. “Take a seat, Evelyn. You sure you don’t want something to drink? I also have water and pop.”
“No. I’m fine. But it was nice of you to offer.”
Wasn’t she polite? She slid into the booth and crossed one long leg over the other. He cleared his throat. “Okay, then, what did my father send you all the way to Michigan to talk to me about that you couldn’t have called to say over the phone?”
She swept a curl behind her ear and folded her hands together on the table before focusing those gorgeous clear blue eyes directly at him. “As you are aware, or at least I hope you’re aware, now that Senator Preston has dropped out of the presidential race, he has a good chance of being considered a viable candidate for vice president in the election this year.”
He leaned back in the booth. “I knew he dropped out of the race, but didn’t know he has a shot at the VP spot. Good for him. What does that have to do with me?”
“He’d be very grateful if you could assist him in his efforts.”
Now this was a first. His father hadn’t wanted anything to do with him for a long time now. “Is that right? And how am I supposed to help him?”