Racer (Real Book 7)

Lana

“That move, damn I get hard thinking about it,” Clay laughs.

“Clayton,” I chide.

Drake comes and smacks a kiss on my cheek. “Epic, Lainie baby. He took Clark the fuck out!”

“It was risky,” I say, frowning at Racer.

He shrugs, sipping on a dark coffee after dining by our motorhome at the track.

“What’s up with you and Clark,” Clay asks.

“We’re competitors,” Drake says, “You know that.”

I wait for a moment, and Racer finally speaks, in a growl, “He wants what’s mine.”

My brothers’ brows rise simultaneously, and I expect them to say something but oddly enough, no one says a word. Not even Drake.

Right then, Clark enters the tent.

“Lainie, you got one of those for me?” He reaches out to obnoxiously steal the bottled water I was sipping from.

Before my brothers can blink and in shocking, fluid lightning-fast speed that I’d never seen on a guy before, Racer is on his feet, snatching back the water and stepping in before Clark and me.

“You touch her or anything of hers again, I’m breaking your hand,” I hear him warn in a chillingly cold voice, reaching behind us to put it back on the table before me.

I peer past his body to notice how Clark sort of turns bright red all over as Racer stares him down.

“Try driving with a bad hand. Your career will be over. You’re fucking over,” Racer adds in a cold and menacing tone. I can tell that he means it—and it sends warning little frissons down my spine.

I notice that my brothers’ eyes are wide with a mix of respect, shock, and admiration, but I, on the other hand, am weak in the knees. Something about the way Racer is standing, staring Clark down, the way the entire air seems to burn around him, makes me react.

Nobody’s ever stepped up to me like he does—and while a part of me is thrumming to reach out and kiss him in thank you, another wants to calm down the volcano before it erupts.

I reach out and put my hand on his, and Racer’s shoulders relax slightly, his nostrils flaring as he takes my hand firmly in his grip and leads me down the track.

“What are you doing? If it had been any earlier the TVs could’ve captured that …!” I cry, eyeing his handsome, frowning profile in disbelief. “What? You’re going to get ready to beat everyone who’s a jerk to me?”

“That’s the plan.”

“No, that’s not the plan. The plan is you ignore them. We don’t make a scene.” I smile over the primitive possessive gleam in his eye, but my smile fades to worry. “Are you okay?”

He notices my concern, and his shoulders relax even more as he says, “Yeah,” and he smiles and leans his head to me, and pecks my lips, and I want the kiss so much that I almost break when my body bends in an arch for more.

“Racer,” I breathe. I want you, I need you, you turn me on.

I part my lips, and he steals his tongue inside as if knowing what I need.

“Are you wet, Lana?”

“Yes,” I breathe.

“Wet for me.” He drags his lips against mine, breathing harshly, his body coiled tight and hard against mine as he keeps seductively dragging his lips along mine, both parted, our breaths mingling, my whole body tittering on the edge of losing control.

“Yes,” I breathe. “Touch me, please Racer.”

“Get in my car.”

He looks at me, and I open my mouth to keep ranting, but our eyes lock and I can see the wild jealousy in his eyes as he looks at me.

I climb in the passenger seat, and he climbs behind the wheel, and it’s another convertible. He lowers the top, and the wind flaps on my hair, making me close my eyes as the wind hits me and he blasts the music—Animal by Def Leppard—on the stereo.

He sets his hand on my thigh, and it takes all my effort not to pull it up between my legs and ask him to touch me there. “You have my father to thank for my amazing music taste,” he says.

“Oh. Thank you, Racer’s dad.” I grin.

He grins back.

He’s still looking edgy and restless, and very, very hot.

He screeches down each turn, leaving skid marks behind us and making me feel like I’m on a roller coaster until he parks us at a lone spot where there are plenty of trees as cover, and he climbs out fast, then he comes to open my door and guides me to the clearing. I lie down on a flat spot on the grass and thrum inside when he lowers himself above me. I’m hungry, panting, and Racer grabs my face and presses his mouth down on mine, groaning when I open.

He kisses me and fondles my face with his fingers, his tongue tasting and taking everything while his hands simply hold my face in place—my body lax and breathless, toe-curling, tingling in every pore—as Racer’s tongue moves and takes. And takes. And takes.

“One day soon, I’m going to fuck you bareback, and there won’t ever need to be anything between us again,” he rumbles, pulling off his tee and unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans. “Touch me, Lana.” He plants my hands on his chest and I run my fingers over those rippling muscles.

“Racer.”

“Under my jeans,” he commands, shoving one of my hands under his boxers. Where he is hot as hell. Hard as steel. I slide my fingers up his hard cock, and he groans and nuzzles my nose with his, breathing hard. “Are you playing me, Alana?” he asks quietly, pulling back to look down at me—so gorgeous that the sight of him, messy hair and bare chest and blue eyes above me cause my saliva glands to flood.

“No,” I breathlessly admit.

“I’m trying to be real with you. Level with me, Lana,” he husks out as he grabs my arms and guides them around him, my fingers locking at his nape.

“I’m scared okay.” I take his head and pull him down so that he kisses me, helping him shove his jeans and boxers down to his hips and then lower.

His erection pops out, and I’m burning and clutching everywhere for him.

“You think you can’t ever care for me?” He watches me curiously, blue eyes male and intimate as he rolls on a condom.

“No! It’s …”

“Let me love you.” He presses his forehead to mine, his rough whisper making my heart squeeze. “Love me back, baby.” He cups my face in one hand and asks it reverently, as if he doesn’t deserve to ask but is still asking, and then I curl my legs around him and Racer impales me without even a moment’s hesitation.

He fills and stretches my walls so much I feel like exploding. I gasp and groan, letting him fill me even deeper as he drives in again.

Our mouths fuse and suddenly our hands cannot get enough of feeling each other, our tongues tasting each other. We move together on the grass, his thrusts sure and expert and also possessive. My body arches up like a bow, silently asking for more, my hands clawing at his back, my body wanting just to get closer, to get all of him.

I cannot get enough of him or his kisses, his hot tongue and warm hands.

Especially his eyes. That drink me in as if he cannot get enough of me.

I’m overcome by the passion, the lust, the way he moves in me as if he’s known my body in another life. Oh god …

And he moves, so RIGHT …

so fast … hard … so raw …

his mouth everywhere … hands everywhere … this fucking boy everywhere …

Hands on my hips gripping me as we go off, coming together,

looking into each other’s eyes as we do.

I’m left gaping up at him after. At this sex fiend.

Will it always be like this?

I’m dazed and smiling happily as I catch my breath, and Racer is smirking, looking down at my rumpled form with satisfaction as he treks his eyes along my features and presses a kiss to my nose.

“Why do you like me on the headset,” I breathe as he remains inside me, looking at me as if he wants to do it again.

“I feel like you’re there with me.” He looks down at me, his eyes a little dark and vivid with intensity. “I like racing, because it’s a very independent sport, there’s only you and the car when it comes down to it. I like the feeling of being alone.” His sharp blue gaze seems to dig right into me as his cock begins to thicken again. “Never wanted anyone to share that until I met you. I don’t want to be alone anymore.”

He grins at me, starting to move inside me, starting to kiss me and heat me back up, and he’s irresistible, the grin, the boy, all of it.