by Lindsay Becs
“Alright. I’ll see you around, Sugar. This isn’t over yet,” he says with a smile as he drops his hand and the doors begin to close behind me.
With a sigh, I fall onto my bed after starting the water for my bath, allowing myself to unwind for a few minutes. After I tie up my hair up and strip off my clothes, I find the bottle of bath salts I splurged on when I first got here and sprinkle some into the bath water before climbing in. A moan escapes me as I sink into the hot water, my muscles relaxing as my skin turns pink from the heat. Heavenly.
I almost fall asleep in the bath listening to my favorite band, No Tomorrow. I don’t remember the last time I was this tired. It’s been a while since I worked this many hours in a day. I dry off and climb into bed, too tired to bother with clothes. I should eat, but even that seems like too much work. I turn on the TV and decide on reruns of Friends as I fall asleep with an escaped giggle that makes me think of my mom.
The next morning the photographer, Dave, called me and asked if I would come in early to meet Mr. King. Now I feel like a bundle of nerves and excitement waiting to meet the owner of Royal King. This is the moment I find out what he decided and if he agrees with Dave, that I’m the face they want to push their brand. I have to show the confidence I have, along with the sex appeal they need, to pull this off.
“Tatum,” Dave says, motioning for me to join him.
I follow him across the studio, where there are screens up with my face plastered all over them. They show the best shots from the last few days. I feel proud of myself for what I see and what I’ve accomplished so far. My eyes shift then to the man standing there watching me. He’s older, with grey hair, but looks stylish in his jeans and blazer. His eyes evaluate me, but not in a predatory way. He needs to see that I’m a good investment, and I understand that.
He nods his head forward a bit and extends his hand. “I’m Matthew King, and you must be the beautiful Tatum Duncan I’ve heard so much about.” His smile is as warm as his hand that shakes mine.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. King. Thank you for this opportunity.”
“No need with the formalities here, Ms. Duncan. Please call me Matthew.”
“Then, please call me Tatum,” I counter, raising my brow.
His smile widens. “Alright then.” He turns back to Dave. “You were right. She’s perfect.” His eyes swing back to me. “I do want to see her next to Benton, though. He’s such a big guy, I want to be sure he won’t swallow her whole.”
“Tatum has such a big presence of her own. It’s one of the reasons I chose her. I think she’ll be just fine standing next to him,” Dave says.
“Okay then. Let’s set that up soon. I want his promo shots done so he can get his head in the race. With it being his first year, I want to give him all the time I can to get used to everything. It’s not the same as the street racing he’s used to,” Mr. King—Matthew—says, speaking about his son. He turns back to face me with another big smile, showing off all the laugh lines on his face. “Tatum, it’s been a pleasure. I’m sure we’ll be seeing lots of you around. If you ever need anything, please don’t hesitate.”
“Thank you, Mr… Matthew,” I correct myself.
Once he leaves, Dave turns to me. “You did it, girl! Smile for once!”
“This is me smiling,” I tell him with an eyeroll. “When do you need me to come back?”
“Can you stay now to finish some shots today with just you? I’ll call about Benton. Maybe tomorrow, maybe the next day. I’m not sure.”
“Whatever you say. You’re my main man, Dave.”
“Oh, girl, that makes me sad.”
Chapter 3
Benton
“Dammit, Dad. I hate this shit,” I growl into the phone when he calls to tell me I have to take a bunch of pictures this week. I have to start “building my brand,” he says. Problem is, I don’t give a shit about any of that, really. I just like to ride my bike, go fast, and feel free.
“Benton, I didn’t bring you here to throw a temper tantrum. This is part of what you signed up for, son. I get it; you don’t like doing it. But too bad. You have to. It’s two days, max, that you’ll have to do this part and then we’ll get you back on the track training.”
“If it’s more than two days of smiling for a camera, I’ll quit. Just warning you now, old man.”
“You won’t. And stop with the old man shit. You know I hate that.”
I chuckle into the phone. “I know.”
“Two days, Benton. That’s all I’m asking for. Besides, the girl you’ll be doing half the photos with is the new face of our apparel line this year and the paddock girl for the Piston Ring. Get used to seeing her around. If she does well, I may ask her to come back.”
“Whoop-dee-frickin’-do.”
“You’re exhausting,” he grumbles at me through the phone. I can picture him rubbing his forehead.
“This girl better be hot, yeah?” I finally say.
“Don’t even think about it, Benton.”
“I can’t even take her for a ride?” I ask.
“No. Not on your bike or your dick,” he tells me, letting out a frustrated breath. “Please don’t make me regret agreeing to let you do this this year,” he pleads with me.
“You’re right. I’m sorry. I appreciate you taking a chance on me. I know me being your son, adds a bit of pressure on you. I’ll behave. I don’t want to end up on the naughty step, after all.”
When he finally believes me, he hangs up and I roll out of bed to make my way to the fucking studio to smile pretty and act as if I care for the next couple of days.
I do know that it is a big risk for my dad, having me ride for him. I get it. I’m the wild card and his only racer this year. I promised him when I got here, I’d give him nothing but my best and I wouldn’t mess this up. I plan on proving that to him.
My dad and I get along, but we aren’t close. He and my mom split when I was young, and I lived with her in England. She’s from London, and I grew up outside the city after we moved there when they split. I would visit my dad in the US and he would visit me, but the distance didn’t make it easy for us to forge a close relationship.
I’m a half Brit, half Yank racing for an American company in an international race against all other European and Asian companies. Thus, making me the black sheep of the race and the wild card. My dad owning Royal King ups the stakes for him and ups the pressure for me to perform at my utter best, too. I’m not worried though; I got this. I’ve been riding on two wheels since I could walk.
My father, Matthew King, has worked his ass off to get where is in the world of not only motorcycles but racing, as well. When I asked him last year to take a chance on me, I knew I was a big risk for him, a liability even. But he agreed that if I put in the time and showed him what I could do, he’d think about it. Six months later, he flew to London and watched me race. That’s when he agreed to let me represent the company and be his racer this year. His guy crashed hard last season early on and had to be pulled out. I was going to be the new face, not only to Royal King but to IMR.
So far, we seem to be working well together. We’ve both taken turns flying back and forth in the six months since, but a couple months back I came to Vegas to stay and train here until the IMR begins. Then it’ll be traveling the world with the whole team and racing against the fastest and craziest guys out there.
You can call me a cocky asshole if you want, but I know I’ll be at the top of that leader board race after race. I’m good. I’m a surprise. And I’m going to give all those motherfuckers a taste of what it’s like to lose to a King.
I ride up to the door of the studio a couple of hours after I got off the phone with my dad and park my bike on the walkway outside the door. I take off my sunglasses as I slip my helmet from my head, but put them back on before getting off my bike and making my way inside. I have to give a show of who I am. They all need to know that I’m not here for games; I’m here to get this shit done and get back to the
track.
“Mr. King,” a squeaky male voice calls out to me. “I’m Dave, the photographer.”
“Benton. Nice to meet you, Davey. Let’s get this thing over with, yeah?” I say as I follow him back to the open space of the studio.
He introduces me to the ‘glam squad,’ his words not mine, and shows me where we’re doing the in-studio part of the shoot. Apparently, this is a two-part session, and the other half is done at the track. Dear old dad forgot to mention that little fun bit.
I change into what they have out for me to wear for now. It’s jeans, a tee, and a leather jacket with boots. This I can get behind. This is me. I walk out to see what the squad is going to attempt to do to me when someone catches my eye. All of a sudden today doesn’t seem so bad.
She’s wearing similar clothes to what I have on but with red heels and a tight tank top. She looks fucking hot straddling my bike. I rake my teeth over my lip, watching her move and pose. Walking toward her, I can’t help the smile that grows across my face. She’s going to hate this day in a second, and I’m going to be the cause.
“Try not to scratch the paint with your fuck-me heels, Sugar,” I say, leaning against a concrete pillar in the area where her shoot is happening. “But I can give you something else to scratch with those later, yeah?”
Her head snaps up, and as her eyes meet mine, I can see fire there. “What the hell are you doing here? Did you follow me here, too?” she asks, climbing off the bike with ease.
“Benton King, nice to see you again, Sugar.” I smile at her.
I watch as her jaw tenses and relaxes again. “Tatum. Not ‘Sugar.’ Tatum.”
“Uhhh… so, you two know each other?” Dave asks, sounding uncomfortable.
“He’s been stalking me,” she says with an eyeroll as she walks back to the bike. Damn this girl has spunk. I like that.
“Where do you want me, Davey?” I ask, walking to join Tatum.
“Let’s warm up with you two just getting used to each other. Nothing posed. Just relax. Get to know each other… better”
As much as I’d love to rock her off her high horse and plant a big kiss on her, I have a feeling she’s a fighter. I don’t want to cause more of a scene than we already have. Instead, I opt to be truthful.
“I didn’t know you were here to model for Royal King. It makes sense now why I kept seeing you around.”
“I didn’t know who you were, either. Sorry for being so… bitchy,” she says, and I’m surprised at her admittance. “That’s a lie. I’m not sorry. You deserved it. You come on strong,” she adds, pursing her lips. I bark out a laugh. This girl. Damn, I really like her.
Holding out my hand to her, I ask, “Friends?”
“Not even close,” she snaps, turning away from me and walking to her stylist. Right then.
“Davey, we about ready to get this thing under way?”
Tatum gets her touch-up done and walks back over with her head held high, oozing confidence and sexy as hell. I see why she was picked to be the new face of Royal King. She exhibits everything my father wants RK to stand for.
She walks straight up to me, wrapping her arm behind my back with her hand on my shoulder. Her body is pressed tightly against my side with her feet spread a bit, my foot between them. “Smile for the camera, Benny. You’ve got to sell it better than that,” she says quiet enough for only me to hear. Her thumb swipes across my chin and she adds, “You had a little drool.”
This sexy little vixen is turning me on, and she knows it. I stare straight into her blue eyes as I reach down and adjust my cock, not caring who’s watching. Two can play at this game.
I lift her up and sit her backwards on my bike. Walking behind it, I then push her so her back arches over the gas tank. I see her trying to reign in her breathing as it’s picking up, and I smirk as I see her losing her control, but she doesn’t back down or try to move. Dave guides where he wants our hands and the direction of our faces. I definitely want a poster size of this one. I also intend to have her like this on my bike again. Naked.
We finish up the indoor shoot without talking to one another. Three wardrobe changes and direction from Dave, along with moving on our own. Tension has been high, sexually and in anger, and it’s maddening. Once Dave said we were done and that we’d finish the track shoot tomorrow, she took off toward her dressing room. I think we could have finished today, but it was evident we needed to stop for the day. She was so tense.
Her door closes and before she can lock it, I push it open, closing it behind me. “What are you—”
I stop her protest with a kiss. My fingers go into her blonde hair that I’ve thought about wrapping around my hands all afternoon. She’s still stiff and tense as my mouth moves on hers, but when my left hand travels down her back, I grip her ass, pulling her into me as she lets out a soft moan, relaxing into me further. My tongue traces the seam of her lips, and when hers meets mine, there’s an electric current that runs through me. I kiss her deeper. Her full lips are soft as she meets me kiss for kiss. Her hands snake up my chest, but then she freezes. She pulls back and slaps me across the face.
“The hell?” I say while holding my cheek.
“You don’t get to kiss me,” she retorts, pointing at me with that fire in her eyes that I love.
“Don’t tell me you didn’t want to kiss me as much as I wanted to kiss you. You enjoyed it, yeah?”
“No,” she responds with a lifted brow.
“Whatever you say, Sugar,” I say, shaking my head, not believing a word she says. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I leave her room and make my way outside, only stopping to grab my helmet. I don’t bother changing back into the clothes I came in. Wasting no time, I peel out of there and head back to the hotel. I need a drink to get this day out of my head. I can’t afford to have this girl get to me. Not now.
Yet, I can’t seem to forget her. I’m drawn to her. Like most fires, you know you’ll get burned if you get close, but you can’t seem to look away, mesmerized by their scorching beauty.
Chapter 4
Tatum
Holy. Shit.
I followed right behind Benton’s steps as he opened and closed the door to my dressing room. I locked the door as he left, and my head fell forward as I tried to calm my rapidly beating heart.
I’m alone. This is what I wanted. I wanted space away from everyone. I wanted to not be attached to anyone or anything here. I wanted to do my job. Alone.
But every time that man is near me, I lose all control of myself. It’s like my brain turns off and my body ignites a spark inside me, catching me on fire for his pleasure. When he kissed me, I thought I was going to explode. I’ve been kissed a lot but never like that. Never in a way that consumed every facet of my mind, body, and soul. I tried to not give in, but I couldn’t stop myself. I was so enraptured with kissing him that, at first, I didn’t realize what I was doing when I sank into him. I have got to get myself together or this is never going to work.
Someone knocks on my door, making me jump. I’m afraid of who’s going to be on the other side. Closing my eyes, I take a breath, push all emotion from my face and open the door.
Lola, the make-up artist who I’ve been working with, stands there. “Hey, I hope you don’t mind me coming to check on you. Dave said things were a bit tense today, and then I saw Benton take off from your room. You alright?” she asks.
“I’m fine. Just a weird day,” I lie.
“Look, you can tell me to shove it if you want, but can I give you a piece of advice?” I gesture for her to come into the room, and we sit on the couch inside. “I’ve been in the business a long time. I can tell an arrogant asshole who treats everyone like scum from the cocky guy who’s an actual sweetheart within the first thirty seconds of meeting them. Benton, he’s a good one. He might come off as tough, but I bet your cute ass he ran out of here because you are messing with his head and he’s not used to that.”
I huff a laugh. “I don’t know abou
t that. I think it’s the other way around. He likes getting inside my head.”
“When I first saw you today, I saw a lot of myself. I used to think I needed to control everything around me and keep this hard exterior all the time. I had massive panic attacks and an unhealthy relationship to go with them. But I became friends with someone who was my polar opposite and he balanced me out.”
“Let me guess. You married him?” I say with an eyeroll and small smile. She’s being nice, and it feels good to have someone be motherly to me. I’ve missed this feeling.
“My point is, you don’t have to keep yourself closed off. I understand that in this industry you have to protect yourself. Trust me, I get that. Just don’t shut everyone out. It’s OK to let some people in, even the ones you least expect.” She pats my leg with a smile. “Did I tell you he wears a suit?” she adds. “He wears a fucking suit and loafers for a living.” she laughs shaking her head.
My eyes travel over her, tattoos cover her skin with pleather leggings and a sleeveless red shirt that matches her bright red lips.
“Trust your heart,” she says, standing up to leave. “And your gut because sometimes your heart sinks when you close yourself off for so long.” She gives me another smile and leaves me sitting there contemplating everything from the day.
I start to laugh thinking about how she described her man. I guess you could say that Benton and I look like opposites, too. He’s big with muscles covered in tattoos and piercings. He has a nose ring and gages and who knows what else is pierced. The thought starts to turn me on. Letting out a breath, I change and leave, needing to get out of this studio.
I knock on the door, and I don’t know what I’m thinking. When I turn to leave, it opens behinds me.
“Tatum?” he rasps to my back.
