Faster Longer (Take Me...#3) (New Adult Bad Boy Racer Novel) (13 page)

“I know that,” I seethe, “And I never asked for my private
life to be made public. You know that. I don’t want the F1 fan base focused on
my love life any more than you do.”

“I’m just worried, Siena,” Dad says, “You’re on thin ice
with these guys. If any more gossip gets out about you, they might overrule
me.”

“Can they do that?” I breathe.

“I wouldn’t put it past them,” Dad says, “They have to look
out for the team. Do what’s best for everyone involved.”

“I want what’s best for the team too,” I insist, “You know
that, don’t you Dad? You know I’d work like a madwoman making Ferrelli the best
it can be?”

“I know, Siena. But the board members don’t know you like I
do. They don’t know what you’re capable of.”

“Then I guess I’ll just have to show them, won’t I?” I say
determinedly.

“I guess you...you...” Dad’s voice breaks off as he takes
the phone away from his mouth. I hear a muffled but brutal coughing fit across
the phone line, and feel my heartstrings twist with guilt.

“Dad?” I say, “Dad, are you there?”

“Yeah, sure,” he tells me, “Just a little tickle. Nothing to
worry about.”

“How are you feeling?”

“I’ve been better, Siena,” he laughs dryly.

“I’m not going to disappoint you,” I tell him, “You know
that, right?”

“You haven’t yet,” he says, “You’ve surprised me more than
once, but you’ve never once disappointed me.”

“Thanks Dad,” I say softly, “Now let me go and try to
straighten all this nonsense out.”

We hang up, and the deafening silence of my Detroit hotel
room rushes in once again. On the TV, the cameras have cut away from the track.
All of the drivers and teams have dispersed from the track, but the announcers
babble on. I turn up the volume to hear their final words.

“Looks like it’s all gonna come down to Dallas,” says the
sportscaster, “In a week’s time, we’ll have a new world champion on our hands.
And this dramatic, fraught season will finally have drawn to a close.”

I switch off the TV and sit staring off into space, warring
with my impulses. On the one hand, I agree with the announcer. This tour can’t
be over soon enough. So many things have gone so horribly wrong since this
championship started. So many people I care about have gotten hurt or found
themselves in harm’s way. My own reputation has been called into question, my
professionalism doubted. But even with all of that, how can I regret having
gone along for this ride? I have Harrison in my life now, after all. And if my
competence and character are being questioned, it only means I have a chance to
prove them.

The rumble of voices and shuffling feet sounds up the
hallway in no time at all. The door of my hotel room flies open, and Enzo
strides across the threshold with Bex and Charlie on his heels. They’re looking
for answers, and now. After all, they each saw me get dragged away by those
race officials. Enzo closes and locks the door, his every muscle wound tight as
a spring. Bex and Charlie sit on either side of me, laying comforting hands on
my back and shoulders.

“So?” Enzo demands, “What the hell did those assholes think
they were doing, dragging you off like some goddamn criminal?”

“I hope there was just some kind of a misunderstanding?”
Charlie says.

“Oh, there was,” I tell them, “But not the kind that’s going
to be cleared up easily.”

“What do you mean?” Bex prods.

“I mean, the race officials seem to think that I’m behind
all the tampering that’s been going on. And god knows what else,” I say in a
rush.

“But...that’s ridiculous,” Enzo says, his eyes wide, “What motive
could you possibly have—what proof are they going off of?”

“False proof, that’s what,” I say, “Seems like someone
leaked some video of me and Marques arguing to the race officials. The sound is
all wonky, so it sounds like I’m saying all kinds of horrible things to him.”

“What kind of horrible?” Charlie asks.

“Threatening,” I say reluctantly.

“The video...it’s not from the other night when we went out
together?” Bex asks.

“That’s precisely when it’s from,” I say.

“But Marques was all over you that night!” Bex protests, “He
practically had you cornered—”

“He what?!” Enzo and Charlie chorus.

“And get this,” I say, pushing through their outrage, “I’m pretty
sure the girl behind the bar that night was also just with Marques on the track
after the race.”

“Do you think he staged the whole thing?” Bex asks.

“I don’t know what the hell to believe anymore, other than
that this whole sport has veered too far into the realm of soap opera for my
liking,” I sigh.

“Well, they obviously couldn’t prove that you were actually
involved with messing up Marques’s car. Because you didn’t. Right?” Charlie
asks.

“Charlie!” Bex cries, “How can you even ask a thing like
that?”

“Just checking!” he says huffily.

“I most certainly haven’t had anything to do with the
vandalism that’s been going on all year,” I say, “I also haven’t been involved
in the blackmailing or harassment, other than as a target of it.”

“Unfortunately,” Enzo says, “We know that the truth has
nothing to with what people will believe if the press starts gabbing. We have
to make sure that you don’t become some kind of scapegoat, Siena.”

“Don’t I know it,” I tell him, “Apparently, Ferrelli is
already questioning my credibility. They want to make sure that Dad can’t make
me a shareholder in his place.”

“Over my dead body,” Enzo says.

“Don’t say that,” I tell him, “We still have one race left.”

“But this all leaves one big question rather obviously
unanswered,” Bex says, her brow furrowing, “Has someone really been
masterminding all the bullshit that’s gone on during this tour? And if so,
why?”

“That’s the million dollar question,” I agree, “And clearly,
the race officials are more eager to wag their fingers than actually get to the
bottom of who’s been messing everything up around here.”

“OK, Nancy Drew, what do you propose we do to change that?”
Enzo asks.

“You don’t do anything. You need to keep your head in the
game and do your damnedest to win in Dallas,” I tell him.

“Still rooting for me, even with lover boy in the lead?”
Enzo asks.

“Of course,” I tell him, “And I always will be.”

“And what about the rest of us?” Bex asks, “What should we
do?”

“Throw on your thinking caps, kids,” I tell her and Charlie,
“It’s time we got to the bottom of this nonsense once and for all.”

Before either of them can reply, there’s an insistent,
forceful knock on the door. I don’t even need to open it to know who’s waiting
there. I cross the room and ease open the door, letting my eyes settle on
Harrison’s stony face as it’s revealed. His expression is not one of a man who
has just won a hard-fought race. He looks like he’s about to punch a hole in
the wall.

“Guys?” I say to my Ferrelli companions, “Could you maybe
give me and Harrison a minute alone? I think we’ve got some stuff to talk
about, just between the two of us.”

“I’ll say,” Harrison growls.

As the door closes behind my brother and friends, Harrison folds
his built arms across his chest and levels his gaze at me. I look up at him,
startled by the intensity of his agitation.

“What is it?” I ask.

“Why weren’t you there?” he counters.

“It’s a long story,” I sigh, “I just—”

“I needed you there, Siena. These races don’t mean anything
when you’re not there to share them with me.”

“But you won!” I say, smiling hesitantly.

“Great,” Harrison scoffs, “I won the race, and it seems I’m
losing something far more important. Someone far more important.”

“Harrison, you’re going to have to help me out here,” I tell
him, “I don’t—”

“Have you been on your computer today?” he asks frankly.

“Not yet,” I tell him, “My morning was sort of—”

I’m cut off as Harrison marches across the room and snatches
up my laptop. He flips it open and lets my web browser open on its own. Disgust
clutches his features as the page loads, and I rush to see what, exactly, has
caused so much ire to spring up within him.

“You’ve got to be kidding me...” I groan, as I catch a
glimpse of the Web’s offerings for today. “This is insane.”

A small corner of my go-to news site has once again been
colonized with a picture of me. Only this time, Harrison is nowhere to be found
in the frame. Instead, another man leans toward me, forcing himself into my
personal space. It’s a screen shot of me and Rafael Marques, taken from that
ridiculous video I had the pleasure of feasting my eyes on earlier today.

“Care to explain what the hell it is I’m seeing?” Harrison
growls.

“That would be Marques, harassing me at a bar. What else is
new?” I say.

“What were you doing hanging out with Marques alone in a
bar
?”
Harrison demands.

“I wasn’t hanging out with him,” I say, “He showed up at the
bar where Bex and I were drinking, and then made himself a nuisance.”

“That’s not what it looks like,” Harrison tells me, “That
picture looks like two people flirting, Siena.”

My jaw drops a foot as hot white anger blazes through me.
“Are you fucking kidding me, Davies?” I say, “You think I was out last night
fraternizing with Rafael Marques? You think I invited his smarmy come-ons? You
think I’d do that to you, to myself?”

“A picture tells a thousand words,” Harrison says, slamming
the computer shut.

“A thousand manipulated, out-of-context words, in this
case,” I retort.

“So the blogs and articles speculating that you’re cozying
up to Marques are false?” Harrison asks.

“I can’t believe you’re even asking me that,” I say, “I
can’t believe you don’t know me well enough to know that I’d never do something
like that. And not just because you’re in the picture, and not because it would
piss my brother off. I’d never be caught dead with Rafael Marques because he’s
a sexist, arrogant bastard, and I deserve better than that.”

“I know that you do,” Harrison says heatedly.

“You’ve been so good to me, Harrison,” I tell him, “You’ve
respected me, treated me as your equal, never treated me like some thing on the
side. Why would you suddenly lose faith in me now? Why would you disrespect me
like this?”

“What am I supposed to think, after seeing a picture like
that?” Harrison asks.

“That you love me, and believe in me,” I tell him.

“Oh, is that what you did when that picture of Shelby and I
came out?” Harrison asks. “Did you think to yourself, ‘something must be wrong
here, I’m not going to accuse Harrison of being a horrible person,’ or did you
jump to conclusions right away?”

“It was at least plausible that you might be having an
affair with Shelby,” I tell him, “She’s smart, and beautiful, and—”

“She’s not you,” Harrison growls, “And that’s all that
matters.”

“Well, Marques isn’t you either,” I tell him, “So can you
honestly believe that I’d ever want anything to do with him? And did you happen
to see the cuts on his face? They happen to match my rings...”

We stare at each other, standing at opposite corners of my
sprawling queen bed. We’ve hardly fought in the time we've known each other,
and I don’t know what to make of it now. I feel charged, ready for
action...God, do I feel turned on? How is that even possible?

“Jesus...” Harrison mutters, sinking down onto the bed, “I’m
a goddamn moron.”

“In this moment, maybe,” I allow, sitting down next to him.

“I just saw that picture, that headline...”

“What headline?”

Harrison grimaces, says, “‘Is Princess Siena Playing the
Field?’”

“It doesn’t make any sense,” I mutter, “What the hell is the
game here?”

“Game?” Harrison asks.

“Oh God, I haven’t even told you yet,” I laugh dryly,
“There’s a video that goes with that picture. Of Marques and I fighting in the
bar. It may also include me punching the guy in the face...”

“My girl,” Harrison smiles.

“But anyway,” I press on, “I was presented with said video
by some race officials after they dragged me away from Enzo’s trailer this
morning before the race. Someone is trying to make it look like I’ve been
behind all the sabotaging nonsense that’s happened this season.”

“What...But...” Harrison splutters.

“I know, it’s crazy,” I tell him, “I don’t think that
anyone’s actually trying to pin anything on me. I just think someone wants that
rumor in the air. Why, I have no idea. Malice? Spite?”

“I’ll end them, whoever did this,” Harrison growls, “They
took you away for questioning? Like you were some goddamn criminal?”

“Oh yeah. But they had nothing to actually use against me.
Just a badly doctored video and some institutionalized misogyny.”

“Do you think...one person could be behind everything that’s
happened to us? To all of the drivers and teams?”

“I think it’s possible,” I tell him, “But if it is...I have
no idea what to do about it.”

“Hang the asshole high, I say,” Harrison scoffs.

“Have to figure out who it is first,” I remind him.

“Small detail,” Harrison tells me, “We’ve got the A-Team
over here. You, me, our Ferrelli and McClain posses...”

“What is this, a superhero movie?” I laugh.

“It’s starting to feel something like that,” Harrison says,
shaking his head, “Remember when the most exciting thing going on in this tour
was us, sneaking away to mess around in hotel rooms?”

“Last I checked, that’s still the most exciting thing about
this tour,” I smile, “And look. We seem to have found our way into another
hotel room, yet again.”

“So we have...” Harrison smiles, looping an arm around my
waist.

“I can’t believe you thought I’d touch that rat Marques with
a ten foot pole,” I say, nuzzling into Harrison’s side.

“Did he...do anything?” Harrison asks, “Anything I need to
run him off the damn track for, I mean?”

“I already got a good hit in,” I laugh, “I think we’re all
squared up.”

“I know you can protect yourself,” Harrison says, running a
hand down my arm, “But I can’t help but want to protect you too, Siena.”

“I know,” I say, laying a hand on his hard chest, “But only
if you’ll let me protect you, too. Deal?”

“Deal,” Harrison smiles.

“By the way,” I say softly, laying my lips against his
throat, “Nice first place win, Mister.”

“Proud of me?” Harrison asks, his eyes closing blissfully as
I kiss all along his neck.

“Very,” I tell him, running my hands along the firm panes of
his pecs, my fingers dancing along his sinfully defined abs.

“You think you’re safe now? No one’s going to try and pin
all this shit on you?” Harrison asks, pulling me onto his lap.

“They can sure try,” I tell him, running my fingers through
his hair, “But I’m not going to lie down and take it.”

“I love it when you lie down and take it though...” Harrison
grins.

“Is that so?” I ask, grinding my hips lightly against him.

“Mhmm...” Harrison mutters. It’s all he can manage, for the
moment.

“In that case...why don’t you take that shirt off so I can
see that ripped body of yours?”

Harrison obeys, lifting his black tee up over his shoulders.
I lower my lips hungrily to his chest, moving down along his collarbone, his
sternum, over every crystal clear muscle I find there. I press against his
broad shoulders.

“Lie back,” I command.

“Gladly,” he says, “But only if I can pull you down with
me.”

“Of course,” I grin.

Harrison takes me up in his arms, cradling me against his
bare, rock hard chest. We sprawl across the bed together, pulling and ripping
each other out of our clothes. I kiss every inch of Harrison’s body that I can
reach. If we had three lifetimes together, I couldn’t get enough of each little
bit of him. There’s not a thing I would change, a thing I don’t love with every
fiber of my being. He may not be the perfect man, but he’s perfect for me. And
I’ll take that to cookie-cutter perfection any day.

We finally slip out of our underthings and wrap our arms
around each other. The feel of his skin against my own will never get old, I
know. We tumble and roll, losing track of who’s on top and who’s below. After
our spat, I’m ravenous for him. I guess this is what they mean when they talk about
makeup sex...

I find myself straddling Harrison once more, my wet slit
poised just above his hard, pulsating manhood. Our eyes lock as I let the very
tip of him brush against me. His hands find my hips, grabbing on tight as I
slowly, surely, lower myself down onto him. Twinned groans of bliss rise from
our throats as he sinks deeper and deeper inside of me. You’d think I’d have
gotten used to the sheer size of him right now, but it’s still a surprise each
time I feel him. He just fills me up so totally, so completely. More wholly
than I could ever have imagined.

My hips rock gently as Harrison presses up into me. I let my
head fall back, my curls cascading down my back. I’ve given up commanding
Harrison, I’m too high on the bliss our bodies incite to bother with words. But
Harrison has a request of his own.

“Turn around,” he breathes.

“What?” I gasp, leaning into him as his staggering member
parts the flesh within me.

“Let me see you...from behind...” He pleads.

A thrill of anticipation runs through me at the thought. I
want to feel Harrison every way I possibly can. He’s made me adventurous,
daring, comfortable in my own skin. I give him a wicked little smile and swing
my legs around, executing a perfect 180 while balanced on his gorgeous manhood.
I’m rather impressed with myself, to tell the truth.

I glance back at Harrison, delighted to see him in this
whole new way. He runs his hands down my back, over my shoulder blades, along
my spine. He cups my firm ass in his hands as he draws back and drives himself
up into me once more. I gasp as I meet his pass, astounded by how deep he goes.
I arch my back, leaning into our most intimate point of contact. Again and
again he rocks his stiff length into me, opening me up in a way I’ve never
known.

“Siena,” he breathes, “I just want you to feel good...”

“This feels amazing,” I tell him, burying my hands in my
hair.

“I want you...to touch yourself...” he tells me.

“Wh-what?” I stammer, looking back over my shoulder.

“Touch yourself,” he says again, “I want you to come like
wild.”

The very suggestion has me rocketing toward the edge, but
I’m more than happy to oblige. Keeping my curls bundled up in one hand, I loose
the other to that place between my legs. Now in
this
,
I know exactly what I’m doing. A lady’s got to know how to take care of
herself, after all.

I lay two fingers against that hard, throbbing spot. A moan
escapes my throat as I roll that aching button under my deft fingers.
Harrison’s grip on me tightens as his thrusts come hard and fast. My legs
tremble beneath me as ripples of pleasure collide and roll all the way through
me. My entire body lights up with sensation as I rub and stroke my clit, riding
Harrison’s powerful, driving cock all the while. A delicious pressure billows
up in my very core, And I know that I’m seconds away from release.

“Come with me,” I gasp, locking eyes with Harrison over my
shoulder.

His mouth falls open into a perfect “O”, and the very sight
of him pushes me over the edge. He slams up into me as my fingers lay a perfect
nudge against the most sensitive inch of my body. We soar together beyond the
reach of this world, bucking and writhing as orgasm takes hold of us. A rush of
sensation scorches along my nerves, illuminating every cell in my body. For
this moment, we’re invincible.

I lower myself down from Harrison’s lap and curl up in the
nook of his arm. For a long while, we just lay there catching our breath.
Everything around us is rushing forward, spiraling out of control. But as long
as we have this, as long as we have each other’s arms, nothing can truly hurt
us.