Flame (Fire on the Mountain #2) (14 page)

He laughs and shakes his head, but begins to shed his layers of riding clothes anyway. “I’ll ask you again in a few minutes when you’re bent over the faucet, stuffed full with my cock. Maybe you’ll have warmed up to the idea by then.”

Much like the flame heating up the air inside the hot air balloon, my core blazes alive with his gruff words. By the time he’s positioned behind me in the cramped stall, with a strong grip on each of my hipbones and the crown of his cock gliding up and down the seam of my drenched slit, I’ve much more than
warmed up
to the notion.

“What do you think so far? Are you having a good time?” Emilia questions me in between the races, her big brown eyes teeming with hope. “I’m sorry I passed out on you this afternoon. I hope you weren’t too bored.”

Patting her arm, I smile reassuringly. “No worries, sweets. I’m always down for a good afternoon nap. I took one too, just outside so I got a little sun along with it.”

“But you are having fun? Everything’s good with Levi?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?” I ask, narrowing my eyes over to where he’s standing with a bunch of other guys on the side of the track, all of them dressed in riding gear similar to what he has on, but with different colors and sponsors. Everyone around him is listening to whatever he’s telling them about the track, like his word is gospel or something. “He’s a bit more alpha dog than the guys I’m used to hanging out with, but for whatever reason, with him, it doesn’t bother me too much.”

Her gaze follows mine and I know it lands on Levi, because she releases the smallest of sighs. It’s almost unnoticeable.
Almost.

“And it doesn’t hurt that he can fuck like a porn star,” I add with a carefree laugh, trying to gauge her reaction.

Unfortunately, at that exact moment, Gunner appears on the other side of Emilia, plopping down on the metal bleachers next to her and planting a big sloppy kiss on her face. “How are the two most beautiful women in the world doing? Did you see me kick everyone’s ass, Dakota?” He grins over at me before turning his attention back to his wife. “Did you tell her I always win, baby?”

Emilia giggles uncontrollably as he tickles her, wrangling her into his lap, and as I attempt to tell Gunner which parts of his race were my favorite, my curiosity about Emilia and Levi fades away. Instead, I’m inundated with terms like ‘block pass’ and ‘whipping’ from the two of them, and I pretend to listen until Levi stops talking and looks up at us, tipping his chin in my direction.

You good, Sunshine?

I nod, flashing a wide smile.
Just waiting to witness your awesomeness, Hulk.

Hold on to your panties, gorgeous girl.
Grabbing his helmet, he pulls it on over his head and makes his way over to where the guy who drives the Suburban around—Jeremy, I think his name is—waits with his bike. Gunner stops talking when he sees Levi swing his leg over the seat, and the rest of the crowd does as well once they see him riding over to the ramp along with several others.

“All right, all right, all right. The time has come for what we’ve all been waiting for,” a loud voice booms through the speakers in the arena, and I swear I can physically feel the electricity whirring through the air, tingling against my exposed skin. “For tonight’s Big Air exhibition run, we’ve got some of the biggest names in the sport here to show you some of what they have in store for the upcoming X-Games, which begins in a little over a week in New Orleans. Included in our riders tonight are Pete “Rough Rider” Russo, James “Mr. 501” Levi, and the reigning world champion, Lance “Armstrong” Foss. Let’s give them all a big, Albuquerque welcome!”

The packed crowd erupts, a deafening mixture of screams, cheers, and bullhorns, as the riders get ready to perform. My eyes are locked on Levi, suddenly having wished I would’ve learned a little more about what he’s about to do, but nonetheless ready to see him in action. I had no idea how incredibly fucking sexy he’d look in his riding gear, and even more, I can’t wait to help him out of it later.

On his first takeoff, I suck a deep breath into my lungs, holding it as he shoots off the dirt ramp and into the air, his bike doing a full front flip while he separates himself from the machine, falling back to touch the seat then repositioning himself correctly before the landing. With a whoosh, I exhale, my shoulders slumping forward and a wave a relief washing over me.

“Holy shitballs!” I exclaim. That was fucking intense, and I’m only watching from the crowd. I can’t imagine the extreme jolt of adrenaline that surges through him each time he defies gravity and flies through the air like that, but I also think about the trauma and strain his poor body must go through on a regular basis. Now, I understand why he said he could use my massaging fingers on tour with him, and I make a mental note to take extra good care of him tonight when we’re in bed.

Emilia grabs my hand and squeezes hard. “You’ll get used to it. It took me a while too, but eventually, it just becomes who they are. No need to worry.”

Smiling over at her, I shake my head, because she’s obviously misunderstood. “Nah, I’m not scared or worried. I wanna learn how to ride.”

And maybe then, he can massage me down afterward.

THURSDAY, JUNE 21

“SERIOUSLY, HULK, YOU’VE GOTTA WORK
on your bed etiquette,” Dakota announces at breakfast Thursday morning. Her brows are raised high into her forehead as she pins me to my chair with her best serious face from across the bus’ dinette table.

My hand, en route from the bowl of cereal to my mouth, stops midair with her out-of-left-field comment. “Work on my
what?
” I scoff. No female has ever complained about my ‘bed’ anything.

Unable to hide the amusement in her sapphire gaze, she repeats, “Your bed etiquette, Hulk. Surely, with all the chicks you’ve been with, someone has told you it’s not good form to logroll the other person in bed with your dead weight in the middle of the night?”

I stare back at her blankly. I have no idea what she’s talking about.

Gunner, who’s cooking in the small, but functional kitchen we’ve got on board, howls with laughter, like her words are the funniest thing he’s ever heard. “Oh, sweet Sunshine.” He pauses long enough for me to growl at his use of
my
nickname for her, which I deliver on cue, then bends down and wraps an arm around her shoulders. “My cousin isn’t big in the etiquette department. Sometimes, he acts more like he was raised in the jungle by a pack of wolves, instead of the actual fancy boarding school he went to.”

After he purposely baits me, I bend forward and snarl my lip up at him. “Fuck off, asshole. And it’s Dakota to you.”

This makes him laugh even harder.
Bastard.

“Why can’t Gunner call me Sunshine
too?” Dakota demands, playfully slapping her palms on the table. “And why do you call me that, anyway? I don’t get it.”

“Really?” I cock my head in disbelief, allowing my gaze to flit down to her outfit—some orange and white pajama thing—then back up to her face. “Everything you wear has some shade of yellow or orange or bright red in it, even your pajamas. And then with your light blonde hair and permanent perky ass smile, you’re like a ray of sunshine bouncing around here, brightening up everyone’s day all the damn time.”

Her face softens as she slides one hand across the laminate surface, resting it on mine. “Awww, Hulk, is that you being sweet? I didn’t think you had it in you,” she teases, lacing her fingers in between mine and squeezing hard.

“I told you he did.” Emmy Sue joins the conversation, emerging from her and Gunner’s room. It’s not even eight-thirty and she’s showered, dressed, and ready for the day. Weird morning people. “He tries hard to hide it, but it slips out sometimes.”

Plopping down in the chair next to Dakota, the two girls exchange a good morning hug before Emmy Sue winks good-humoredly at me. Gunner sets the plate of food in front of his bride and she beams up at him, showing her appreciation through a kiss. Then, she digs into the same damn breakfast I’ve seen her eat every single morning since she first spent the night on the bus. Scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast.

I glance back over at Dakota, who’s eating the same thing I am—a bowl of Cheerios with cut up bananas and strawberries—and it strikes me how quickly and easily she’s adapted to our routine. It’s only day four, and already her presence feels so natural and comfortable . . .
effortless
.

My invitation for her to join us wasn’t well thought out initially. And had I been thinking clearly, I probably wouldn’t have asked her, or anyone for that matter, to accompany me for a two-week stint in the close confines of this bus. I don’t like to get close to people. Most of them are just interested in using my name for something or another. They don’t give two shits about me as a person.

But Dakota is different, and four days into our trip, I’m really fucking happy she’s here.

She never complains or acts bored when Gunner and I are gone, training and doing run-throughs for hours at a time during the day. Although, she’s said she wants to learn how to ride, which I’m dying to take her up on as soon as we have some downtime. Like two peas in a pod, she and Emmy Sue are always together. Whether they’re on the bus or at the track, it’s nonstop singing, dancing, and giving me and Gunner shit, which I love. She takes it as well as she dishes it out, both in and out of bed, but in bed is where I like her best. Always ready and willing, I’ve busted more nuts in the past four days than I have in the last four months combined. I’m afraid I may have met a chick with a sex drive that matches mine. And that’s kinda fucking scary.

“What’s the schedule today, babe?” Gunner asks Emmy Sue while drying off the just-washed skillet. “Please tell me we get a hotel room tonight. If I have to listen to
Hulk
tell
Sunshine
one more fucking time how sexy her nipple piercings are, I’m going to have to check them out myself.”

Dakota spits the drink of juice out of her mouth, spraying orange liquid all over the front of my shirt and the wall next to us. Her eyes grow as wide as saucers, and as the realization sinks in that they’ve been able to hear us each and every time we’ve gone at it, an adorable rosy flush creeps up her neck and into her cheeks.

“Y—you listen to us?” she squawks.

Gunner and Emmy Sue are rolling, doubled over at the waist with uncontrollable laughter. “Uh, how can we not? You’re both kinda—”

“—energetic,” Emmy Sue finishes her husband’s sentence using the nicest word she can come up with.

It’s taking everything I have to keep a semi-straight face. Having spent the better part of the last four years in either a traveling RV or a bus, it’s no secret to me that these walls are paper-thin, and everything you do or say is amplified through the narrow living quarters. Privacy isn’t a luxury I have much of, even in my own traveling bedroom. And to be real honest, I don’t give a shit that Gunner and Emmy Sue can hear me with Dakota. They need to know I’m going to be just fine once they leave to set up their permanent home in Breckenridge.

After everything happened with that crazy-ass clinger earlier this year, I’ve drastically pulled back from everyone except them and Rhino, chicks included. Of course I haven’t been abstinent, or anything fucking ridiculous like that, but I’ve just been much more
selective
.