Happy Hour (Racing on the Edge) (17 page)

“My arrest record was shot long before this.” I reminded him.

When Jameson and I were sixteen we were arrested for branding the ass old man Rogers cows with an iron that said, “Grade A Piece of Ass.” That wasn’t the first time I’d been arrested and I was sure it wouldn’t be the last.

“Good point.” He smiled and plugged his iPod into the stereo of his truck—he ditched the mini-van once we got back to Mooresville. “Here’s a song to get us prepared.”

And with that, House of Pains
Jump Around
flooded the truck and we jumped around like complete idiots that we are.

Once we were parked outside of their house and eyeing the said target, Alley’s precious cherry red Mustang, Jameson pulled me into the bushes on the side of their house.

“Here’s the plan,” He whispered in my ear.

Keeping focused was hard, it was distracting as hell when he whispered like that.

“You go inside and distract her. Pinch the boy or something.”

“The boy has a name you know.” I pointed out.

Jameson glared slapping me on the ass. “Pay attention.” He put on the hood of his black sweatshirt. “It’ll take me ten minutes top to change the horn.”

I started laughing at how focused he was on this entire prank it was as if it was a mission directed by the secret service or something.

“What does the horn say?”

Jameson flashed me a wicked smile nodding his head arrogantly. “Move I’m a ruthless bitch.”

“She’s going to kill you.” I pulled my hood over my head as well.

“She deserves it.” He nodded towards the house. “Now go, we don’t have all night. I have to swing by the race shop.”

Going in there alone concerned me for a number of reasons, some more than others.

“If it will only take a few minutes why do I have to go in there?” I asked. “Jameson, she will pry it out of me.” I pleaded.

Not only that, I was afraid she would find out what I was doing with him. I’m sure I’ve said covered this before but I was not known for being sneaky. I lacked that particular set of desired skills.

Jameson was silent for a brief moment and then frowned. “Another good point,” He mused looking towards the house and then the car. “Fine, stay right here. Keep watch.”

Then he jumped over the bushes and snuck towards Alley’s car all stealthy like. It was very entertaining to watch.

My time waiting wasn’t long. He returned in five minutes with a huge grin that quickly disappeared when we heard voices from behind.

Darting back into the bush with me, we crouched down between the branches. One particular branch kept tickling my ear and I snapped and broke the fucker off.

Jameson looked at me as if I was crazy so I punched him in the stomach.

The voices got closer and I saw that it was Aiden and Emma. Unfortunately, they stopped a few feet from us on the side of the garage, right in our line of sight and started making out.

I knew what was going to happen next so my hand flew to Jameson’s mouth before he could say anything and give our covert operation away.

“Shh
...
calm down.” I whispered.

Jameson’s entire body tensed and his jaw clenched tightly under my hand.

“Don’t tell me to calm down.” He barked in a whisper pulling my hand away. “Did you know about this?” he motioned to Emma and Aiden
still
making out.

I didn’t answer, just played with my broken branch, avoiding eye contact.

“You knew?” he asked incredulously attempting to get up. “How could you
not
tell me?”

“Jesus Christ Jameson,” I yanked hard on his arm, he collapsed on my lap. “She’s twenty-one and
in love
for the first time, you get it.”

“
Apparently
, I don’t.”

I really couldn’t understand
what
the big deal with all this was but he was adorable when he was mad. “You’re cute when you’re mad.”

“Whatever.” He glared. “You should have told me.”

“Calm down.”

“No.” He huffed crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m mad.”

Emma and Aiden were still kissing so I needed to distract him.

I couldn’t believe I was resorting to this but I was. It was either this or poor Aiden wouldn’t be walking tomorrow.

“Would it help if I showed you my boobs?”

He was quiet for a moment before replying with, “Maybe.” He motioned with quick flip of his hand. “Show me and let’s see.”

Ashamed with myself, I flipped my shirt up and his eyes immediately light up like a kid in a candy store.

He was like a damn child.

Emma and Aiden finished there make out session and ventured inside so I could pull my shirt back down. It took some persuasive convincing on my part but eventually we made it to the shop to return the helmet and
not
inside Alley’s house to kill Aiden.

No one was at the shop when we arrived, which surprised me. I figured there would be guys there working on the car since they are leaving for Pocono tonight.

When we entered the large warehouse looking building, Jameson turned on lights as went.

Once the fluorescents light up the main floor, I was in pit lizard heaven. That heaven was glorified when I saw his cup car parked by the bay door, ready to be loaded on the hauler.

I skimmed my fingers along the sharp line of the body, gliding over the black glossy paint. My fingers skated along with ease over the rear quarter panels, along the door, down the front quarter panel and against the hood with ease.

It was beautiful. I had a thing for race cars that either made me squeal with delight or horny.

I thought Jameson was in the office but he surprised me when his hands touched my hips, his fingers pressing lightly into my heated skin. “See something you like?”

How many times as I going to hear these exact words today?

“Maybe I do,” I began turning in his arms. My eyes scanned the shop when they settled on an engine perched on a hoist. “Isn’t that supposed to be in the car?”

Jameson looked over his right shoulder and then towards me again. “Yeah but the bearings are misaligned—they have some work to do on that one. I think it’s going back to grandpa’s shop tomorrow.”

I smiled knowing where this was going when he smirked. “What’s bearing alignment?”

Knowing damn well I knew what bearing alignment was, he was only playing along. “Well,” he began slowly pushing me against the side of the car. “When you have bearing misalignment, and an engine turning 9,000 RPM’s, that’s not
good
. You see,” his fingers that were griping my hips trailed delicately up the curve of my body before cupping my cheek, his thumb brushed my lips. “All bearings have some internal clearance which can accommodate a certain amount of
thermal expansion
and misalignment.” He pushed forward again, this time his hips showed his thermal expansion. “But when that clearance is fully consumed, then metal-to-metal impacting occurs with high dynamic stress
...
bearings fail.” His eyes searched mine hungry and glowing with desire.

Playing my part well, I asked, “So why so much focus on bearing alignment? I mean
...
I understand it’s not ideal, but what do the bearings do?”

Jameson’s smirk widened, he knew what I was doing. His head titled to one side, his eyes penetrating my very being with one look. “It keeps the camshaft moving with
...
ease.”

“And your camshaft; is it moving with
...
ease?”

“I think I need to check the bearing alignment.” His lips found mine. “I seem to be experiencing some
...
thermal expansion.”

He didn’t give me time to respond before picking me up and carrying me over to the front of his race car.

In the process of doing this, he knocked over a drip pan and we slipped in the spilled oil, landing against the hood.

Jameson looked down at my jeans that now had oil covering them, giving me a lopsided grin. “Look at that, those are ruined.” He mused. “You’ll have to take them off.”

Moments later there I was, pit lizard style, spread out on the hood of his race car, naked, my bare ass sitting directly on his Simplex logo and damn happy about it.

He removed his black sweatshirt and t-shirt, oil smudges smeared across his jaw.

Just when I figured he was going to drop his pants, he surprised me, flashing a wicked smile. Pulling my hips the nose of the car, he dropped to his knees.

Sweet Jesus.

“In order to properly check the bearings
...
I
need
to do some deburring of the crankcase.”

He’s going to kill me with all this car talk!

Leaning forward so his lips were on the inside of my thigh, he took in a deep breath and then placed slow deliberate kisses along each thigh, groaning a loud luscious groan. “I can’t wait to taste you.” His voice alone is enough to put me into overdrive.

In my head, for some reason, I was singing Nine Inch Nails,
Closer
.

Me, and others at times, find this somewhat concerning but in addition to inappropriate giggling, I hear music in my head at the most
inappropriate
times.

Panting uncontrollably, I threw my head back against the hood and stretched my arms up against the Lexan windshield, already so close with just fingers.

As soon as his mouth replaced his fingers, I was no longer in control of my body movements.

Jameson roughly grabbed both legs near the tops of my thighs and pulled me closer to him with a low growl.

As good as that felt I
really
wanted him, now, after that reaction.

“Jameson,
please
...
” I moaned.

He chuckled against me. “Please what?” he grunted.

I whimpered. “Inside
...
need you
...
inside.”

I was amazed I could even string the words together to form that sentence, given it wasn’t complete, but I shouldn’t expect so much from myself.

“Ah, not yet honey.” He murmured in that signature raspy velvet voice. He continued his ministrations until I was literally screaming his name once again today.

I was trembling, panting, quivering, shivering, and shaking; whatever verb you want to use
...
I was in a complete disarray on the hood of Jameson Riley’s race car while he tended to my crankcase as if it’s the holy fucking grail.

Just when I thought I’ve died and gone to heaven, he pulled away, stood up, slowly drew his bottom lip between his teeth and dropped his jeans to the ground.

I got a glimpse of the lust driven thirst, with his eyes that were mean enough to scare a wild animal as he crawled on the hood and inched up my body as if he was hunting his prey.