I dip my tongue inside, deeper and harder, my hunger growing with each taste.

Her hips start rocking upward, and Lana’s kissing the top of my head, breathing faster and harder as my own breaths start to speed up.

She writhes and tries to snap her legs shut—gasping and rolling her head in the grass, out of control. I pry her legs wider open and move my head, licking and sucking her up, feeling her start to come when I lie over her, set my jean-clad cock above center, and kiss her as we grind each other on the ground, too damn hot for her to resist coming when she blows off beneath me.

I come with her.

Lana gasps as she recovers, catching her breath, and I tug her panties back into place and help her straighten, all the while watching her.

She’s pink-cheeked and heavy-eyed, and I pluck the grass from her hair, grinning as she smiles shyly up at me.

“Wow,” she says.

She sits up, her face soft after her orgasm, her lashes still heavy—her gaze wowed.

“God, those eyes,” I say, cupping her face.

“They’re just green,” she says with a soft laugh, snuggling her cheek into my palm.

“They’re everything. So fucking expressive you don’t even need to say a word for me to know exactly how you feel.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“How do I feel now?”

“You’re having a good time.”

“And?”

“And you’re still hot for me. No matter how many times I make you come.”

“Oh wow, he’s so honest.” She laughs and rolls her eyes.

“You’re falling for me, Lana.”

Her smile fades.

“I don’t know if I should warn you again to stay away, but what’s the point? I’d only chase you.” I smile down at her, shaking my head in warning. “I’m not letting you go.”

“What?” she scoffs. “Racer, seriously, your confidence knows no limits.”

“I know what I know.”

“You don’t know shit.” She scowls and shifts, lying down on the ground and scowling up at the sky. Despite the scowl, a smile starts tugging on her lips.

“I’m going to let you in on a secret, Lana.”

Curiosity piqued, she looks at me and sits back up again, her eyes dancing no matter how she tries to hide it from me.

“I’m going to marry you,” I say.

“Is that right?

“That is absolutely right,” I croon, “and you’re going to love every single second of being my wife.”

“Is that right?”

“That is beyond right, baby.”

She leans forward, her breath at my mouth. “I’m going to tell you something, Racer,” she says, breathless when she looks at my mouth and at me. “Keep aiming for the moon, and maybe one day, you’ll catch a star.”

“Baby,” I say, cupping the back of her head and leveling my eyes on hers, “I’m aiming to catch me the worst driver in the world.”

“Racer!”

I chuckle, and she breathes, as she lies back down, “I’m still looking for the best driver in the world.”

I raise my brows meaningfully—tsk and shake my head, a sign that she should know better. Then I brace my arms on each of her sides and lean over her, my nose level with hers.

“Look into my eyes and you’ll find him,” I husk out.

Her chest starts rising and falling.

“You’ve had him inside you already …” I cup her where she’s hottest. “You have him here.” I give a little squeeze, then slide my hand upward, over her dress, and I put my hand on her left breast. “And here.”

Her eyes are shining and they widen, a little scared. At this point, I’ve worked myself up to a fever, and my heart is beating like a crazed drum in my chest.

“You love me, Lana,” I say.

Her eyes begin to glisten, and she starts to cry.

I’m confused. I sit back for a hot second, watching the tears start to stream as Lana tries to wipe them off.

“Hey, I love you.” I reach out to take her wrist and keep her from drying her tears. Instead, I use my free hand to do it and peer into her face. “I’ve never loved anything this much in my life.”

“I only ever said I love you to my family and David.” Her tears keep falling onto my thumbs.

“You don’t need to say it now. I know.” I clench my jaw, keeping her face in my hands. “I know.”

She drops her face and starts to gather the trash. “Take me back to the hotel.”

I stop her. “I won’t hurt you.”

She raises her head. “Can you honestly promise me that?”

I look down at her, something in my chest on unsteady ground. My voice roughens defensively. “Are you afraid that I’d hurt you or that you’d get hurt because I’m bipolar? Lana.”

She ignores my question and gets into the car.

“Take me to my room please.”

I slam her car door shut, furious.

I climb into the driver’s side, and Lana stares out the window on the drive back to the hotel, keeping those eyes from me.

After walking her to her room, I’m back in mine, a black spiral looming over me as I fight not to get sucked in.

I scrape my hand over my face, staring out the window, sleepless, my fucking heart down the hall and a few doors away, crying and in pain because she loves me.

Lana

I toss and turn all night.

I hate him.

I love him.

He’s taken all my memories of David and replaced them with him. All my love and put his face on it, his stamp on it, now when I think of David … a dimple appears on his cheeks, his soft brown eyes turn bright blue and vivid, and his light brown hair becomes wild and spiky and black.

I sent him a text in the middle of the night—

I’m sorry I just need some space to think. Lana

And it hurt that he answered immediately with a curt OK, because it only confirmed the fact that he wasn’t sleeping either.

I’m in a bit of a tired and highly wired state the next morning when I spot him at our tent at the side of the track, looking sharp as ever in his black racing suit, with the U.S. flag stitched at his belt, and his new sponsor logos plastered all across his muscular arms and chest—and he looks like everything I will ever possibly want, and like nothing I could have ever imagined myself having, and I don’t know whether I want to pull him to the motorhome to tell him that he’s right, that he’s right and I’m a big ol’ coward, or I don’t know if I want to run away.

I don’t run away though.

I sort of drink him in as he sits at a table with the mechanics and laughs at something Adrian says, and then I see him turn his head to spot me, fold his legs as he pulls them off the table, and come to his feet as he snatches up two coffees from nearby and brings them over.

My heart thuds a thousand and one times. “Good morning.” His voice is husky.

“Good morning.”

He hands me a cup of coffee, and I laugh and extend his too. “I brought you one too.”

“We’ll just keep bringing each other coffee until one of us gets it.”

“You get it first.”

“No. You do.” He tweaks my nose and winks. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Me neither,” I say, breathless.

“I’ve been racing for quite a few Grand Prix, and I still haven’t gotten you to admit I’m the best driver in the world. It won’t do.” He shakes his head. “My mustang is back in St. Pete, waiting to get fixed.”

“You banged it up and I’m sure it’s fixed already.”

“We had a deal,” he says. “Are you backing out on me?”

“No. Are you?”

“I never back out on anything,” he says, giving me a look that says I’m his, that he’ll be patient, that he’ll wait.

I want to talk to him, but we’re placing amazing in the championship points, fighting for second place with the Clark’s second driver, and it’s already going beyond my and my family’s wildest dreams.

I don’t want to bring my personal things here and dump them all in the track, so I hold back and try my best to keep everyone comfortable—and the team performing at their best.