Page 91
Cool air floods in. I inhale gulps of it.
“They’re calling for rain tomorrow.” Jameson’s words drift into my head.
“I’m not worried about the car. The drivers could be a problem though,” I say. I’m staring at the mirror but seeing the track as I push a piece of wet hair behind my ear.
If they don’t tone down the aggression and try to use the rain to outdo their rivals in wet conditions, losing could be the least of our concerns.
“I can handle a little water.”
The bathroom door swings open. Jameson leans against the doorway, his eyes meeting mine in the mirror.
The heat flooding my body is back, but it’s not from the steam or the water. His gaze moves all the way down to my toes. He’s even slower on the way back up. For a man whose entire life is about speed, I’ve never seen him take so much time.
He lingers on my calves, my thighs, my waist, my breasts. Each part tingles under his gaze.
When his attention returns to my face, his expression is pure hunger.
I’ve always been a little self-conscious about my body, but the way he’s staring, I feel beautiful. I swallow from anticipation and nerves. My finger traces my thigh of its own accord, because I need to touch something, to be touched.
“Um. The track will be wet.” I swallow. Remembering I have a point to make that doesn’t involve my tongue tracing the outline of his pecs is impossible.
Jameson steps toward me. “Wet,” he echoes.
The next step brings him into the shower and forces me back. He reaches for the hem of his shirt, drags it over his head without breaking my gaze.
“Slippery.” Somehow, I’m still speaking. “You’ll lose grip.”
His chest is hard planes and sharp angles, beautiful muscles and a small white line running across his pec. It only makes him more human, more real.
“Then I’ll find something to hold on to.”
Jameson grabs my hair and drags me against him.
He’s hot and hard and consuming. His skin slides against mine under the spray and makes each touch slick.
He backs me against the tile, our bodies colliding.
His hands skim down to cup my breasts, squeezing just enough that I squirm. When I lean into him, making a little sound of pleasure, his lips follow.
He sucks my nipple into his mouth. Fire streaks straight through me.
All week, all month, I’ve wanted him. Our moment on the balcony after the first race was hot, but it was nowhere near enough.
When he switches to the other side, my fingers dig into his shoulders to keep my balance. Maybe my sanity.
“From the second you walked out in that towel, all I could think about were the things I want to do to you.” His groan is swallowed up by the pounding water. The vibration of his lips on my skin says more than words anyway.
I shift against him, feeling his hard cock press against my stomach. In the mirror over the sink, I can see us, him bent over me.
Last time was him touching me. I want to touch him, to make him as unhinged as he’s making me. I fumble with his jeans, the button and zipper causing me grief before he yanks them off his legs.
His clothes are forming a wet pile on the floor. It’s so chaotic, I grin.
At least until his boxer briefs follow.
My breath stutters, my hand hesitating.
He’s big. Thick and hard, and I never thought much about male anatomy being beautiful, but if there was a guy to change my mind on that, it would be this one.
