Burning Rubber: Extreme Racing, Book 2

by Pamela Britton

  “Thinking about what I’d like to do to you.” A small smiling alighted on his lips. “Again.”

  “Yes, but this is neither the time nor the place—”

  He reached for her, but not quickly. He did it slowly, as if giving her time to flee, and those words she’d been about to say…the protests she’d been about to utter, they disappeared the moment he touched her.

  “I want you, Callie. No strings attached. No ulterior motive.” His head lowered. “I’m just a man who wants to make love to the one woman on this earth who turns him on in a way he’s never felt before.”

  The last words were spoken as a near whisper. His breath fluttered across her face, bringing the memory of what it was like to taste him. She knew this was it. This was the moment when she either fled or let him do every naughty thing she could see in his eyes.

  “Damn you, Derrick,” she whispered softly.

  His lips connected with her own. That’s all it took. That’s all she needed. One touch and she was his.

  “Take off your clothes,” he murmured against her mouth, his hands moving to her waist so he could start tugging at her shirt.

  “What if someone comes in here?”

  “Who?” he asked, successful in his liberation of her shirt. He tugged it off and over her head in two seconds flat, the neck getting caught up in her ponytail and knocking her glasses askew.

  “I don’t know,” she said, only to throw back her head and gasp when he knelt down and suckled the flesh of her belly. “It could be…” She closed her eyes for a moment. “I mean, anyone…” She couldn’t think. “Veronica might…”

  She couldn’t finish the thought. All she wanted was for him to continue suckling her and nipping at her, because every time he did her abdominal muscles spasmed, causing delicious tingles to radiate out from her belly button and on downward.

  “Screw Veronica.” He unbuttoned her jeans and then, a split-second later, lowered her zipper. There was a moment, a brief instant of clarity when she wondered what in the heck she was doing allowing him to undress her in the middle of the parts truck, but then his mouth found her center and she realized she didn’t care what he did to her—not when it caused lovely ripples of pleasure to ricochet through her body. She felt his arms clasp around her thighs, felt them tighten, wondered what he was doing, then gasped as he lifted her up and placed her on a stack of tires. He gave her nary a moment to breathe before he parted her legs. Callie’s rear end slipped into the center of the tires. That must have been part of his plan because he instantly angled his mouth so he had full, unrestricted access to the most sensitive spot on her body.

  “Good Lord,” she moaned as he suckled her, using the rim of the tires as support for her elbows. The scent of rubber mixed with the smell of her desire, Callie shocked by the eroticism of it all. He swirled his tongue deep inside her and Callie realized she didn’t care where in the hell they were, as long as he kept doing that. She greeted each thrust of his tongue with a thrust of her own. Gave herself to him in a way that caused her whole body to burn with a combination of shame and lust. Wanton, reckless passion.

  Her release came so quickly she gasped, and then pleasure and then pure joy filled her and it was beautiful, so beautiful. She wished it would last forever.

  Unfortunately, it didn’t.

  Chapter Twenty

  She was still moaning when Derrick drew back. God, he loved the look on her face as she stared up at him from atop the mound of rubber. He wanted to memorize it, to keep it at the forefront of his mind like it was a picture, something he could pull out later.

  “Come here,” he urged gently because her body had gone so lax, she looked about ready to slide through the center of the tires like a squirrel.

  “Jeesh,” she moaned. “I don’t think… I mean, I’ve never—”

  “Shhh,” he soothed, pulling her toward him so she straddled him. He still wore his jeans and so the feel of her warm center through the denim fabric was about his undoing. Crap. He hadn’t come without actually being inside a woman in, well, just about forever.

  “That is crazy,” she murmured sluggishly.

  “I know. And I want to hear you scream like that again.” He began to move against her, inadvertently, as if his body possessed a will of its own. He leaned his head to the left, kissing the side of her neck. He should unzip himself, he thought. Thrust into her. Yet…he didn’t want to. He liked holding her against him. Enjoyed the way she tasted. Salty. Sweaty. Like sex.

  He captured her lips. She moaned and Derrick knew he wouldn’t last long. Like a teenager in the midst of his first lust-driven haze, he felt his erection swell, knew he would come in his jeans in about two-point-nine seconds if he didn’t do something soon.

  Then she thrust her tongue into his mouth and Derrick gave up thinking. There was just the feel of her rubbing up against him. The sound of her soft moans. The smell of her womanhood. The heat of her tongue. He became as lost as she’d been a few, short minutes ago. Within seconds his own cries filled the air.

  “Callie?”

  She jerked away from him so fast he gasped for another reason.

  “You in there?” a masculine voice called.

  “I’ll be right out,” She swung a leg over his shoulder so fast he didn’t even have time to duck.

  “Damn it,” he heard her mutter just as the door to the parts truck opened.

  “Oh,” one of the engineers—Derrick couldn’t remember his name-said. “I was looking for Callie,” he added, as if Derrick was hard of hearing.

  “She’ll be right out.” He glanced back in Callie’s direction. She’d somehow managed to drop into the center of the tires. Holy shit, how had she done that so quickly?

  “I’m searching for a part,” she added in a sing-song voice.

  The engineer’s eyes had hooked upon the pair of jeans on the floor. The man’s brows lifted. He gave Derrick a look that clearly said, “Ohhh-kay,” before ducking back out. Derrick didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Given the small-town environment of garages, he knew Callie’s sexual proclivity would be common knowledge by the end of the day.

  “Is he gone?” she called, her head slowly appearing—like a gopher checking to see if the coast was clear.

  “Yeah, he’s gone. But I don’t think he bought your checking for parts excuse.” He bent and scooped up the empty pair of jeans. “Here. You might need these.”

  “Did he see them?” she asked, her own eyes widening.

  “I’m afraid he did.” If he were honest with himself, he didn’t mind it at all. He wanted those idiots outside to know she was taken. Yeah, it was caveman-type behavior, but he didn’t give a rat’s ass.

  “Shit,” she hissed. “Shit, shit, shit.” She snatched the jeans from his hand. “If Jerry tells Veronica about this—”

  “She’ll get over it,” Derrick soothed. “So, relax. It’s no big deal.”

  “The hell it’s not.”

  Derrick found it hard not to laugh. She was trying to get dressed while still in the middle of the tires. Unfortunately, it wasn’t working well. The hole was too small. In fact, he had no idea how she’d managed to squeeze herself down there in the first place.

  “You need some help with that?” he asked after watching her almost topple over for the umpteenth time.

  “No,” she shot, even though she clearly did. “I can manage just fine.”

  He ducked down to pick up her shirt. “Are you mad at me?”

  The way she snatched the item from his hands told the story. “No,” she huffed out again. “Yes.” She tried to hold onto the shirt at the same time she wiggled into her jeans. An impossible task, he quickly surmised. “Damn it,” she said. “I don’t know what I want except to wear anything but a stack of tires.”

  He couldn’t help it. He laughed.

  Her eyes narrowed.

  “Do you need me to lift you out of there?” He refrained from more laughter only by sheer force of will.

  “No
. You can turn around while I get dressed.”

  “Turn around?”

  “Yes.” Her eyes grew hard. He recognized the expression. It was the look of Woman Gone Mad. So he turned, hearing her do something behind him that involved a lot of grunting and some muttered curses. She grew quiet suddenly, but didn’t tell him to turn around, which was why, two minutes later, he almost missed her scooting by him.

  “Wait,” he called. “Where are you going?”

  “Back to work.”

  “But—”

  She was gone, Derrick left standing the middle of the aisle way wondering how she managed to turn him on so completely, and then frustrate the hell out of him seconds later.

  “Damn it.”

  Callie couldn’t get away from him fast enough. She had to pause a moment to squint against the bright afternoon sun, but that was the only time she slowed down on her way back to pit road. The whole time she promised herself this was the last time, the absolute last time, she would have sex with Derrick Derringer. Good Lord. It was almost as if she were trying to give Veronica a reason to fire her.

  And Jerry had seen them.

  Jerry. A man they’d bribed away from NASCAR, and someone Callie held in high esteem. Now he would think of her as the lowest form of floozy, never mind what she’d accomplished so far. In one fell swoop, she’d gone from respected engineer to groupie.

  What would happen if he told Veronica? She took a survey of the track, wondering where Jerry and Veronica had disappeared to. There was a line of people along pit road wall, a few of the drivers taking shelter beneath the pop-up tent. No Jerry. No Veronica. What did that mean? Because the mere thought of being forced away from the X-TREME Racing League caused her stomach to roll. Veronica would do it. She’d fire Callie and take Callie’s dreams away with nothing more than a snap of her long-nailed fingers. Then Callie would be left with nothing. Just memories of what might have been—if she’d kept her friggin’ legs shut.

  “Stupid, stupid, stupid,” she muttered.

  “Hey,” someone called. “Don’t be calling me stupid.”

  She spun around.

  Shane Houser stood behind her, obviously having followed her to the parts truck as well. Crap. Had everyone been heading to the parts truck?

  “What’s up, Shane?” She glanced past him to the trailer. Since they were in the middle of a staging area boasting nothing but blacktop, she had an uninterrupted view. No sign of Derrick. Good. And no sign of Veronica, either. She appeared to be holed up in the race car hauler, still.

  “I was wondering when I would get my chance behind the wheel?” he asked, glancing toward the track where—oddly enough—race cars still circled the track. For her, time had stopped inside that trailer. It seemed strange nothing had changed while she and Derrick had been…well, while he’d done—

  She blushed.

  “Derrick’s up next.” She took the reins of her chagrin and gave them a firm yank. “But I think he’s off doing something else right now. Terry’s been out there for, what? A half-hour or so? Why don’t I call him in so you can take a spin?”

  “Thanks.” His eyes swept her up and down.

  Callie followed his gaze, wondering if she had something on her jeans. No. She glanced up at him again. He gave her a flirtatious smile. Callie almost groaned. Un-be-lievable. The kid had to be six years her junior. Then again Shane seemed like the type who would sleep with someone if he thought it would give him an edge. Even an ugly someone. He probably thought she held a position of power in the X-TREME league. Maybe he’d even heard her in there with Derrick. Good Lord, she hoped not.

  She trotted off, still looking around for Jerry, relief coursing through her when she spotted him by the tent. He’d been blocked from her view earlier, and when he observed her approaching, he glanced away from her quickly. Crap. She’d have to talk to him, maybe beg him not to say anything. She found her headset right where she’d left it—on pit road wall. It was a simple matter to contact Terry and tell him his time was up. Instantly, she heard the X-TREME Machine’s engine slow and, Lord, what power that gave her. She might not own XRL, but she this was the next best thing.

  Someone tapped her on the back. Callie jumped, careful to keep her expression blank as she slowly turned around.

  Veronica.

  “Hey there.” Callie moved the mic portion away from her mouth and one side of the headset off her left ear.

  “I think we should change the tires before Derrick gets in.”

  For a moment Callie was stumped. How had she known Derrick was next? Oh, wait. Callie had printed a list.

  “Uh, yeah, sure.” Callie fiddled with her mic some more. “But Derrick’s busy right now so I’m going to put Shane in next.”

  He’s busy cleaning himself up after I launched his rocket.

  Callie! she quickly chastised herself. She couldn’t be thinking things like that, not with the way her cheeks lit up like Christmas lights.

  “Are you sure you should do that?”

  “Of course.” Then, cognizant of the power Veronica held over her, “but good idea about the tires.”

  “Oh, well, it was a suggestion.” Veronica’s red hair caught the sunlight so that it looked almost orange in spots. Very clown-like. “You don’t have to change them if you don’t want to. You’re the expert.”

  Callie forgot all about clowns with white face, red noses and orange hair. It was one of those moments, the kind where you wonder what happened to the person standing in front of you because this was not Veronica standing in front of her. Oh, no. This Veronica was so nice, so conciliatory, so sweet-looking. Even during the whole debacle with Derrick she hadn’t been this gracious.

  “Still, it’s a good idea.” Callie glanced around the track. “I was actually planning on doing that, anyway.” She repositioned the mic and the headphones. “Rich, let’s change out those tires.” Callie motioned over her shoulder toward where she had stacked four sets alongside pit road. Unfortunately, glancing at the things caused Callie to blush all over again because she had an instant recollection of sitting on a similar pair, of spreading her legs, and allowing Derrick to…

  No, no, no. She would not let what happened ruin her day.

  When the car came in, quick as a pack of vultures, the team of men—and one woman—swarmed. Terry had left the engine running while he wiggled out. Callie smiled at the brown-haired driver once he removed his helmet.

  “Well?” she asked, pulling off her headset again. “What’d you think?”

  Terry’s grin was ear-to-ear. “You’ve outdone yourself, Ms. Monroe.” He held out his hand so he could shake hers. “These cars are incredible to drive. Can’t wait to get your specifications so I can start building my own.”

  It was Callie’s turn to grin. “That’s what I want to hear.”

  “I’m next,” Shane announced, Callie turning and then blanching. Shane had stripped down to his skivvies right there in front of God and everyone. He wore boxers. Red ones, and they hugged his curves like sports cars did a road course.

  “Uh, yeah.” Callie blinked a few times. “You are.” The boy was cut. Damn. He’d give Derrick a run for his money.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to wait?” Veronica tipped her head, giving the kid a smile. “I’m sure Derrick will be disappointed to learn he’s been bumped out of line.”

  “His fault.” Shane slid his firesuit up and over his hips, but slowly, as if he worked at an all male review instead of driving a race car for a living.

  “What’s my fault?” Derrick said, Callie looking past Shane to see the man of the hour himself.

  “You missed out, old man.” Shane finally slid his firesuit up and over his muscular shoulders. “I’m taking this bad boy for a spin.”

  Derrick glanced at her, then back at Shane again. “Be my guest. Not like I haven’t already driven it.”

  “Not like I’ll be driving it, you haven’t.” Shane smirked.

  “That remains to be seen.” Der
rick crossed his arms.

  “Now, now,” Veronica soothed. “Let’s all be gentlemen, shall we? Shane, honey, I know you’re good, but why don’t we let Derrick shake the bugs out first.”

  Callie couldn’t believe her ears. They’d been shaking the bugs out all frickin’ morning. If she didn’t miss her guess, Veronica had just insulted Shane—and it wasn’t like her boss to do that to a drop-dead gorgeous, handsome hunk of a man. What was going on?

  Callie worked fast to diffuse the situation. “But I already promised Shane he could drive for a spell. Shane, hop on in.”

  The younger driver didn’t say another word, well, at least not with his mouth. He shot Veronica a look which clearly indicated his displeasure, but that might be her boss’s goal. Maybe this was yet another one of Veronica’s games. Sort of reverse psychology. Perhaps she figured if she insulted Shane, he’d think she wasn’t interested in him when in reality, she was, which would keep Shane on his toes and make Veronica seem above his reach.

  Callie snorted as she watched the driver climb into the car. She’d given up trying to understand her boss. Right now she had bigger fish to fry—like trying to figure out the appropriate way to act toward a man who’d made her cry out in pleasure, and who was currently staring at her. The pressure of his gaze was like a fire hose to the back of her head.

  “Test, test, one, two,” Callie said after pulling her headphones back on.

  “I read you loud and clear.”

  Shane had a sexy voice, Callie found herself thinking, only to immediately blanch. What had gotten into her lately? It wasn’t like her to jump a man while on the job. It wasn’t like her to find herself thinking about another man’s voice only a few minutes after having an orgasm with another. Maybe Veronica’s voracious, sexual appetite had rubbed off on her.

  “Take it slow at first,” Callie warned, watching as Shane gunned it off pit road. The man acted like this was a race. “The X-TREME Machine feels like nothing you’ve ever driven before.”

  “Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?”