Dangerous Race (18 page)

The rough pads of his thumbs smoothed away the tears that fell across her temple. His muscular thigh rested between her legs and Tracey pressed against him. He shifted again and one hand moved down her side, brushing her skin, making her ache for more.

More silent tears slid down her cheeks.

“Don’t, God, please don’t,” he pleaded in a whisper.

But how could she not? He was offering a pity screw and she was weak enough to take it. The fact that she didn’t possess the strength to roll away from him or somehow put distance between them made it that much easier to loathe herself.

Tonight, she’d take his pity. She’d revel in his tender touch, the feel of his hard body and the joy of his incredible kiss. She’d save the regrets, recriminations and guilt for tomorrow.

“I love this spot, right here,” he murmured, fanning warm air against the sensitive skin at her neck. His fingers, having already traversed a road south, moved inside her, exploring deep, pushing her higher.

“Mac…” She swallowed back the plea. Bit back the urge to ask for more.

He gave it anyway. His fingers pumped into her, driving her to the edge of oblivion. Heat poured through her as her blood pounded harder. His lips trailed from her neck to her breast.

Tracey went from seventy-five miles an hour to a hundred and ninety in two seconds flat. She was going to come and as she expected…he wasn’t as brave as she thought. He could touch her, but he didn’t want to be inside her.

She gripped the pillow under her head with everything she had. Her world turned upside down as the first spasm racked her body. She soared above the bed, lost focus on reality and concentrated on sensation. The pounding waves sent her to the same magical place as last night. The place only Mac had taken her.

But the waves receded and real life returned. Tracey kept her eyes closed, shuttered to the expression that might be on Mac’s face. Breathing hard, she couldn’t bear to see what emotion lurked in his eyes.

Then he left. Just that quickly, the bed dipped and she was alone. Cool room air washed over her heated body. Loneliness—deep, biting and painful—wrapped around her heart and nearly strangled her.

She jumped off the bed and nearly plowed Mac over as she ran to her room. Vaguely she realized he’d been undressing and she barely heard his muttered oath and the sound of her name. Thankful for the darkness, she didn’t care that she was naked. She reached her bed, ready to shed hot tears. But in the next instant Mac turned her around. His warm skin brushed against the length of her. His full lips covered hers.

She didn’t want to put her arms around him, didn’t want him to know that she needed everything he’d given her and continued to give. But she found her fingers tangled in his soft, thick hair anyway, and opened her mouth to his probing tongue. The backs of her knees hit the edge of the bed just before Mac lifted her and laid her down.

God, had she been wrong? Did he really want her?

His weight pinned her to the bed, his erection hard against the inside of her thigh. The muscles in his back rippled under her fingers as she trailed her hands to his ass and guided him home.

Tonight, though, he wasn’t rushing. His breathing sounded harsh in her ear as he slowly controlled his entrance.

Tracey lifted her hips to him, wanted to feel the hard thrust of him deep inside, taking blindly like a greedy child in the middle of a chocolate store.

Mac shifted and pinned her hips down, using his weight to control her position. Tracey stopped moving, humiliated at her abandon and still expecting complete rejection at any second. She let her arms fall to the sides. Waited for him to come to his senses and walk away from her. She still couldn’t look into his eyes, wasn’t brave enough to see the pity on his face.

Warm lips settled on her neck and trailed to her ear. He pressed his hips against her, settling his erection at her entrance. Tracey forced a ragged breath into her lungs, wanting to feel him inside so bad, she couldn’t think straight.

Slowly, deliberately, he moved into her heat. She clutched the sheets so she wouldn’t come off the bed. He filled her completely, sent every nerve ending screaming for more. In and out, slow and sure, until Tracey’s thoughtless mind nearly blew apart.

His lips trailed back to her mouth and their tongues tangled in a slick dance. Mac quickened the pace, drove inside her harder and sent her senses careening down a sensual path of ecstasy.

A low sound erupted from Tracey as another climax shook her. Two more thrusts and she felt the rush of Mac’s warm orgasm penetrate deep within her. Their slick bodies stayed glued together, their breathing labored.

When words became possible, Tracey couldn’t bring herself to say anything. What
would
she say?
Thank you? I’m sorry? Please, sir, may I have another?

Mac shifted and Tracey rolled onto her side, onto her bad leg, with her back against his chest. She waited for him to say something as she soaked up the warm feel of his skin. Allowed herself, for just a second, to pretend it could last, fantasized that he’d be with her always.

Apparently he didn’t know what to say either and the silence stretched on.

Exhaustion crept in. The last clear emotion floating in her brain—contentment.

Tracey opened her eyes slowly. A slash of sunlight peeked through a crack in the closed curtains. She and Mac hadn’t moved. Every inch of skin along her back touched his front as he spooned against her. His hand rested on her bare thigh. Her head lay on his arm. She shifted a fraction and took in his scent. That combination of faint leather, man and sex. She inhaled again and filed the moment in her memory.

Last night she’d gotten lucky. Lucky that it was dark, lucky that he’d only felt the scar and still had the stomach to stay next to her, touch her the way he had. But as most everything in life, luck eventually runs out. She wasn’t so young that she didn’t understand that. Two nights in a row was damn lucky for a girl who thought she’d die a virgin. No matter how wrong or convoluted the circumstances were.

Though the urge was strong, she quashed a desire to turn in his arms and pick up where they’d left off. Instead, she gently picked his hand from her thigh and slid away from him. She refused to look at his face, afraid the hard line of his jaw, or the curve of his lips, or that damn dimpled chin would entice her to stay.

Thankful for the still-dark room that hid her scar, Tracey crept to the bathroom and locked the door behind her. Maybe the shower would wake Mac and he’d go back to his own room. She’d relieve him of the stress of an awkward morning.

Mac woke up as Tracey slipped into the bathroom. He pushed the sheet aside, ready to join her for a shower when he heard the door lock snap.

Point taken.

He leaned against the headboard. The silence between them bothered him almost as much as the fighting. He’d tried to talk to her last night, but the scratches on her arms, her hand and her face only contributed to that vulnerable side of her that he’d seen so little of. The side he wanted to know more about.

He hadn’t intended to kiss her, never imagined that once their lips connected he’d be unable to tear himself away from her. The only thoughts pumping through his head last night had to do with making up for the night before.

Just thinking about holding her in his arms gave him a hard-on. The soft spot between her neck and collarbone, the way her breasts filled his hands. He’d done his best to atone for taking her virginity so thoughtlessly. He’d tried to convey his respect and appreciation for her with his body instead of words. The physical attraction between them couldn’t be denied. If only they could talk as easily as they made love.

Mac ran his hands through his hair. Once again Tracey had proven her bravery by allowing him to feel her scar. The darkened room hadn’t hid the emotion on her face and he knew what it cost her to acquiesce. That courage sent him over the edge. He wanted her, wanted some of her strength to rub off on him. Maybe if he loved her enough with his body, he’d somehow absorb what he lacked, what she had in abundance.

She was everything he’d avoided in the past, everything he should avoid in the future.

The doorknob rattled and Tracey emerged from the bathroom. Her dewy clean skin shone as fresh as a cover model’s. Wearing a thick white robe and with a towel wrapped around her wet hair, she looked up and froze, seemed completely stunned to see him in her bed. As if she hadn’t just left him there a few minutes ago.

“Did you forget I was here?” Mac asked.

Tracey blinked. “I thought you’d have gone back to your own room, that’s all.”

That kind of hurt. “I think we need to talk.”

“I don’t know why.” Tracey pulled a pair of cargo pants from the closet and a clean T-shirt out of her drawer. “You paid your dues. You can go back home.”

“Paid my dues?” Mac sat up, leery of her tone. “What are you talking about?” His hopes for a friendly morning vanished out the window.

“Do we really have to do this?” Tracey asked, taking the towel off her head at the bathroom door.

Mac wished he had one speck of intuition when it came to this woman. “Do what, Tracey? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

She turned. Her stunning blue eyes leveled him. “Look…I appreciate everything you did yesterday. You saved my life, you held my hand in the hospital, you went above and beyond the call of duty with the sympathy fuck. But now it’s—”

“Sympathy
what!
” Blood immediately rushed from one particular part of Mac to his brain. He threw the covers aside and stormed out of her bed. “You think last night happened out of sympathy?” The words exploded out of him, loud and violent. He scooped his sweatpants off the floor, from where they landed last night after Tracey had nearly plowed him over to get back to her room, and jammed his legs in one at a time. “Did it occur to you that I was scared shitless when I pulled you out of that lake yesterday? Do you think it’s possible that last night happened because—”

“Last night happened because you felt guilty for screwing me in the first place,” Tracey lashed out. “Let’s make sure the poor little virgin has one good night before she dies.”

For a second, Mac was stunned silent, trying to comprehend where her anger stemmed from. “That is the biggest load of crap I’ve ever heard.”

“Really…then let me ask you a question,” she said, running a hand through her wet hair. “Once you realized I was a virgin, did you feel bad?”

Mac couldn’t answer immediately. Blood, tinged with a healthy dose of guilt, pounded in his head. He couldn’t deny the partial truth to that fact. But it wasn’t the only truth either.

“It’s okay, Mac.” Tracey’s voice softened. “Like I said, you went above and beyond. I was particularly impressed that you managed to stick it out after feeling the scar. Very impressed. But you don’t need to make a big deal out of it.” Tracey moved toward the adjoining door, standing next to it as though if he didn’t leave, she would.

“This is nuts,” Mac said, stopping in front of her. He didn’t need to touch her to feel the heat of her body. He remembered the silky softness of her skin under his fingers. Wariness in her eyes said everything he was thinking. “There’s more happening between us than you want to admit, Tracey, and it has nothing to do with sympathy.” Mac wanted to pull her to him and prove his point. He wanted her mindless and moaning in his arms. Instead, he continued to his room and closed the door behind him. He rested his head against the wood as he listened to Tracey on the other side. Did he hear a cry before she moved away? He didn’t budge, listening harder. He finally gave up and showered, but he couldn’t clean his memory of her. Not the way she responded to his touch, nor the incredible feeling of her legs wrapped around his hips.

Those legs…That scar.

Mac cringed. That had to be why she’d accused him of a sympathy fuck. But had last night’s tears been because she thought he’d run or the fact that he’d stayed? The picture became more and more clear. Everything pointed to the fact that he was the first guy she let near her since the accident. It explained why she hiked her dress up the other night instead of letting him take it down. He’d been so hell-bent on his own agenda he hadn’t cared if she had clothes on or not.

She’d orchestrated the loss of her virginity perfectly. Just as he’d planned her seduction.

He wanted to be sick. If the car accident hadn’t happened, she probably would have never slept with him again.

So now he knew about her scar. Now, he knew she had even more courage than he originally thought. She had every characteristic that he lacked. Fortitude and determination. The strength of will to battle through whatever life had to dish out.

But no matter how much he tried to stay away from her, he couldn’t. Those same qualities he lacked still called to him.

Mac dressed and headed for the door when someone knocked. He opened it to see Tracey with keys in her hand.

She looked all business. “I thought since your rental was totaled yesterday, you might need a lift. I have four new tires on my Navigator.”

Shit. With everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours, he’d completely forgotten about his car. Looking at Trace, he’d have thought his car was the
only
thing on her mind. Not a hint of emotion on her face led him to believe anything had taken place between them.

“Uh…yeah. I guess I do need a ride.” He closed the door behind him, struggling with the folly of bringing up the previous evening. “Do you want me to drive?”

Tracey shook her head. “No. But I will let you check the brake line to make sure everything looks good.”

Mac nodded, uncomfortable with the tension bouncing between them. They reached the elevators and headed down. Not knowing what to say or do, he stood there like an idiot as they rode in silence to the lobby.

The car stopped to let on other passengers. Three large guys stumbled in laughing. “She was such a stupid bitch,” one said.

Mac’s blood pressure jumped. Instantly he had a vision of the words
stupid bitch
scrawled on Tracey’s mirror in her own lipstick. The blood drained from Tracey’s face, her eyes widened and Mac knew she was thinking the same thing. He moved closer to her as the guy looked over his shoulder.

“Oh, sorry,” he apologized with an embarrassed grin. Then he took another look at her. “Hey, you’re Trace Bradshaw,” he said, turning to her. “My sister thinks you’re the bomb.” He extended his hand.

Tracey’s hand wobbled slightly as she shook it. “What’s her name?” she asked.

“Charlene.”

“Well, tell Charlene I said hi,” Tracey said, managing a shaky smile.

“I sure will,” the man said. The elevator came to a stop and everyone got out.

Tracey looked as if she’d been through the ringer and it wasn’t even eight in the morning. Mac wanted to pull her into his arms and make everything all right. But so far, pulling her into his arms only made things worse.

That evening, Tracey cracked open her door and peered into the hall. No sign of Mac. Good. After spending the whole day in the garage with him, her nerves were shot. They hadn’t talked about the mind-blowing sex last night or the argument that happened this morning. That suited her fine. What was there to say anyway? Last night happened, it was done and it wouldn’t repeat itself.

Tracey glided out of her room, closed the door quietly behind her, then hustled down the hall toward the elevators. She turned the corner with a triumphant smile on her face only to be shot down at the sight of Mac already waiting for an elevator.

Well hell.

He sighed and glanced up at the ceiling before shooting her an acknowledgment. “Hey.” He did a double take and his brows climbed a notch on his forehead. “You all right? You look like you just swallowed your helmet.”

“I’m fine.” She rolled her shoulders and tried to relieve the immediate stress in her muscles. “You…you surprised me. I didn’t expect to see you.” She hadn’t heard him leave his room. Had he been trying to sneak past her the same way she’d been trying to avoid him? What a colossal joke.

“I thought you said you were ordering room service?”

This time her brows lifted. “Is that why you’re leaving your room?” she asked. She’d barely been out of his sight all day. “You thought you had a few minutes of freedom while I was eating up here?”

“You make it sound as if I’ve chained myself to you.” Mac shook his head. “Contrary to what you might think I just want to make sure you’re safe. I don’t consider it a crime.”

The ding of the elevator interrupted the conversation. They rode down to the lobby in the same car they’d nearly combusted in a couple of nights before.

“Where you headed?” Mac asked.

She didn’t have a reason to make this difficult. Besides, the man had a point. Wanting her safe didn’t make him a bad guy. “Dinner,” she answered. At his inquiring stare she elaborated. “At The Grill in the lobby. You?”

“Dinner. At The Steakhouse.” He had his hands in his pockets and watched the floor. A lock of dark hair fell across his forehead and she itched to run her fingers through it.

Tracey heaved a sigh when the elevator stopped and the doors opened. “Have a good one. See you later,” she said over her shoulder. He must’ve figured she was safe in one of the hotel’s restaurants. She headed to The Grill and stood in front of the podium. The Please Wait to Be Seated sign dared her to find a seat without authorized permission.

Huge potted palms dotted the interior of the half-full restaurant. At least she wouldn’t have to wait for an open table. Busy searching for the hostess between large pillars and the trees, Tracey felt the presence of someone in line behind her. The hostess came forward and Tracey’s skin tingled.

Mac. It had to be. She’d know his smell anywhere. No one made her senses stand on end the way he did. She turned slowly and looked up at him.

“Hey,” he said.

“You’re eating here?” She clamped her mouth shut, embarrassed that she sounded so mortified.

“The Steakhouse is closed for a private party. So, yes, I’m eating here.” He lowered his voice. “You don’t have—”

“How many?” The hostess asked.

Tracey turned to see a leggy woman with long blond hair taking two menus from the under the podium. “One,” she said. Just because Mac and she occupied the same restaurant didn’t mean they had to spend time together. A full day on the track was more than enough.

The hostess’s green eyes twinkled up at Mac. “And you, sir? How many?” She may as well have asked him “Your place or mine?”

It was all Tracey could do to look uninterested. Why should she care if Mac got it on with the hostess? She certainly had no claim on him.

“One,” Mac said behind her in a razor sharp tone. He sounded completely and thoroughly annoyed.

Welcome to the club.

The lady’s grin turned wide and inviting until Tracey cleared her throat and demanded her attention. “Right this way,” she said, leading Tracey to a table for two. A maroon leather booth stretched across the side of the room and along the whole back row of tables. Tracey sat on the booth side to see who came and went in the restaurant. Venturing out alone didn’t mean she’d leave her back unguarded.

Although the hostess had dropped her off and left her like a contagious leper, she hadn’t gotten back to Mac in time to seat him. A different hostess, this one in her mid-fifties, was leading Mac directly toward her.