“It’s soft,” I murmured.
“Totally gorgeous,” the girl behind me said.
“I need a list of everything you used on it,” I told her.
She laughed and nodded.
I wouldn’t do this on a daily basis, but it would be nice to sometimes have it look this way.
“The blowout should last three or four days. You can use some dry shampoo at the roots, if needed, to give it a boost.”
“Makeup went on like a dream, too,” the other girl spoke up.
I hadn’t even noticed the makeup. I was too busy admiring my hair. But it looked nice, too. They went for a natural look, which I was grateful for. I didn’t want to look like someone I wasn’t.
“We’re going casual for the shoot.” The girl went on. “Here you go.” She handed me a stack of clothes.
“When you’re done, meet us outside.”
Once I was alone, I glanced down at the ripped up jeans and white “wife-beater” tank top.
Wasn’t exactly what I was expecting, but I liked it.
I changed out of the shorts and T-shirt I was dressed in and then took a few more minutes to look at my hair. I wasn’t vain. Far from it.
But it was almost shocking to see it so contained.
After slipping into the high-heeled black sandals, I left all my stuff and stepped out of the trailer into the morning sun. It was warmer out here already.
The second my eyes adjusted, I actually forgot all about my hair and the shoot.
There was a Lotus Elise Sport 220 sitting nearby. It was gorgeous and so like a siren beckoning me forward.
I wouldn’t go so far as to say an Elise was rare, but I don’t think I’d ever seen one here in Maryland.
I stepped up to it and let my fingertips trail along the hood, noting the engine was still warm and hoped GearShark had brought it as a prop for the shoot.
Maybe they’d let me drive it.
I loved my Skyline, it was the best, but this car was… captivating.
“You like?” a voice behind me drawled.
I was still spellbound by the way the sun sparkled off the white. “It’s freaking sex on wheels.” I sighed.
“That good?”
I perked up, jerked my fingers back and spun. The stupid heels I was wearing almost tossed me on my ass but I threw out a hand and steadied myself on the car I just equated to sex on wheels. “You.” I intoned.
“I got a name, sweetheart,” he drawled, in a smartass kind of way that he probably thought was sexy.
“Call me sweetheart again and your balls will become intimately acquainted with my foot.”
He grinned a slow, self-satisfied kind of smile, like my promise to dent in his boys was somehow a turn on.
My stomach dipped a little.
“Just can’t keep your hands off her, can you?” he motioned toward the car I was still leaning on for support.
I pulled my hand back and straightened.
“Can’t help but admire it,” I said, trying not to antagonize him right before our interview. A breeze picked up, bringing with it a warm stirring of air. The glossy strands of my hair slid back over my shoulder and brushed across my shoulder blades. I reached up and tugged a hand through the sleek style just because I could. “Have you ever driven one?” I asked.
He was silent a moment, his dark gaze caught by something just over my shoulder. I cleared my throat, and he blinked. “What?”
I pointed at the car. “Have you driven a Lotus?”
“Once or twice.” He smiled.
God, the way he smiled. It was like I’d just asked for some fancy prime rib dinner and he agreed to give it to me, even though he knew he’d just eaten it.
“I hope they let me drive it,” I mused, bending to look in the driver’s side window. It had red accents on the black leather.
It was a sex machine.
“They?”
I nodded absentmindedly. “GearShark.”
“It’s not the magazine’s car.” His voice was low but loud, closer than before. I jerked up.
A wide, warm hand settled over my hip, steadying me.
I jolted backward, effectively bringing my entire back up against his chest.
How the hell did he get over here so fast?
I swallowed thickly and spun. I couldn’t go anywhere, though, because I was pinned between him and the car.
Like a sex sandwich.
Oh my God! Why did I keep thinking about sex? Stop it! I commanded my brain.
There was nothing about Lorhaven that was sexy. Nothing. He was a total douche-nozzle.
“What’d you say?” I pressed back into the car, trying to get away from him.
His eyes swept over my face. There wasn’t an inch his eyes didn’t touch, and I swear I felt every sweeping gaze.
His eyes were very dark. Almost black. Like endless dark wells.
When I was a girl, my mother would take me to Argentina. In the center of one town square, there was a wishing well. I used to stand above it and stare down. I’d toss coins in and wait for the sound of them hitting the bottom.
It never once came.
It was as if it ran so deep there was no bottom.
I used to tell my mother I wanted to leap in and see just how far it went. I wanted to see what awaited when I finally hit the floor.
She’d laugh and tell me I was silly.
But oh, the mystery of that well.
The possibilities I used to be sure it contained.
Those were his eyes.
It was disconcerting.
It was intriguing.
I wanted to leap in and find out just how deep Lorhaven could go.
The breeze blew again, brushing against my suddenly hot skin. It felt cold even though it wasn’t. I shivered.
“Did you hear me?” he asked. The depth of his voice was also something I found myself wanting to explore.
“What?” I muttered.
He shifted, the movement mostly in his hips. It brought his body that much closer to mine.
I plastered myself even more against the Lotus.
His fingers dug into my hip. Gripping me, holding me there.
“I said that’s not GearShark’s car. It’s mine. You can drive it anytime you want.”
My mouth went dry. Like I’d suddenly been walking through the Sahara and was in dire need of a cool drink.
“Hey,” a familiar voice growled. “Back off.”
I blinked.
Drew was standing several yards away, scowling, his arms folded tight over his chest. The way he glared at Lorhaven reminded me I didn’t like him either.
I brought my hands up between us and shoved him back hard. He stumbled, a look of surprise crossing his face.
I tossed my hair back and drew myself up. With these heels on, I was almost as tall as him. He didn’t intimidate me. No man did.
“I didn’t think it was actually possible,” I said.
“What’s that?” he countered. Ugh, the arrogance in his face and body was so disgusting.
He needed someone to bring him down a peg or two.
“That a car could instantly be dropped to the bottom of my must-drive list.” I shrugged. “But it’s happened. Turns out I want nothing to do with anything you’ve touched.”
His eyes narrowed. A dangerous air floated about him.
I pushed off the car and walked—no—I sauntered away. Right to Drew’s side.
His eyes bounced between mine. “You okay?”
I smiled. “Of course.”
He smiled back and caught up a handful of my hair. “Looking pretty good, J.”
Behind us, Lorhaven made a rude noise and then walked off.
“You get under his skin,” Drew said, pride in his voice. His arm dropped over my shoulder, and he guided me toward a group of people where Trent was. “Makes me fucking giddy.”
I laughed.
“Let’s get this over with so we can go have some fun.”
“Ame
n,” I prayed.
The faster I got away from Lorhaven and his gift from heaven persona, the better.
Lorhaven
You know what was more gut punching than the sight of my maybe white Lotus for the first time?
The sight of a midnight-haired, long-legged goddess standing next to it.
She thought it was sex on wheels.
My maybe car just became certain.
Joey
We had an audience.
Not that there was a we.
More like me and Lorhaven had an exchange of words, and people watched.
One particular person seemed to be intrigued by the way we argued with each other.
Too bad she was the one in charge of the shoot.
I was standing in a small group with Drew, Trent, and Hopper (he came as my manager but also for moral support) when Emily approached. I remembered her from when she interviewed Drew for his article. She looked the same. Blond hair, slim figure, and a tight skirt.
“Joey.” She began, and we all stopped our conversation so I could turn toward her. “We’d like to get the photography done first. Would that be okay with you?”
“Sure.” I nodded and fell into step beside her as she led me to wherever they planned to take the photos.
My steps staggered a bit when I looked ahead at where Lorhaven was standing. The stylists must have just finished with him because his clothes and hair were different than just a short while ago.
“Uh,” I said, noting he seemed to be waiting for Emily.
“We were thinking…” Emily began, measuring me out of the corner of her eye as she kept walking.
No, no, no.
“It would be really fun to get some photos of you two together. You know, a symbolism of both racing divisions. And since it’s a dual interview…”
“You want us to model together?” My voice was clipped.
“I couldn’t help but notice the way you two looked standing there together,” she said. My shoulder’s stiffened. “You’re both gorgeous. You make a stunning combination. Plus,” she hurried to add, “it would lend a new dynamic to a GearShark cover. Usually, we just have single models or cars. A couple… a racing couple would really be a seller.”
Did she say cover?
“We aren’t a couple.” I pointed out.
“Of course not.” Emily allowed. “You know what I mean.”
My reply was blunt. “Actually, I don’t.”
The reporter seemed taken aback I didn’t just readily agree to what she wanted. She began to stutter, like she didn’t know what to say. As if telling me what she really meant would only piss me off more.
My mood darkened.
This interview was a bad idea. We’d barely just started, and I was already irritated and insulted.
Lorhaven chose that moment to inject himself into the conversation. His arm fell across my shoulders, and I jerked upright. The movement and weight of his arm pulled my hair and sent tingles of pain over my scalp.
I glanced over, giving him a scathing look.
He acted like he didn’t even notice. It pissed me off. I thought longingly of stomping my heel down on his booted foot. Let Emily put that in her article.
My father would have a cow.
And then I’d be stuck in the pro circuit.
“She’s just nervous I’ll look better than her.”
God, he was incredibly cocky. I made a sound and shoved his arm away from me.
Emily lifted a brow. “Is this tension because you’re on opposite sides of the track, or is it a different kind of tension?”
Lorhaven opened his mouth. I gave him a warning look. “It’s because he’s an asshole,” I said.
“My feelings are hurt,” he declared, turning sad, dark eyes on Emily.
The only thing sad was the fact I had to pose for pictures with him.
“So…” Emily glanced between us. “Is that a no to the shoot?”
“No. We got this,” Lorhaven replied. His hand met the small of my back and pushed lightly to propel me forward. “We’re professionals.”
“Good.” Emily smiled and motioned for the photographer.
He leaned down in my ear as we walked. Even though I was moving right beside him, he kept his hand on the small of my back. “They want some shots with my car. Shouldn’t be hard for you since you were already drooling all over it.”
“This is ridiculous,” I muttered.
Abruptly, his hand left my back, and his body rotated around directly in front of mine. I stopped walking. His eyes bore directly into mine.
“This is the cover we’re talking about.” He spoke low, not a hint of the ass-like sarcasm typically in his tone. “It’s good publicity. We could both use it. I’ll be on my best behavior.”
He was right. This was an opportunity I’d never been presented in the three years I’d been racing. Even if I was bitter they didn’t think I could carry a cover on my own, even if they did want this jackass beside me for it… I could use it to my advantage.
I could use this to propel myself further and get the press my father wanted so I could cross over.
“Fine.” I relented. “But keep your hands where I can see them.”
His face dropped a little closer to mine. He had full, wide lips… “Now what fun would that be?”
I lifted my chin a little in a challenge. The ends of my hair brushed my back. “Best behavior.” I reminded him.
He lifted his hands, palms out as if he were surrendering.
I knew better.
The photographer started barking orders, and we moved over to the hood of the Lotus.
“I’m gonna have you sit there,” he said to Lorhaven, pointing to the hood, between the headlights. “Open your legs,” he instructed.
Lorhaven had long, lean legs, and when he sat on the white hood, his ripped-up jeans seemed to stretch on forever. The fabric was so worn and tattered one of his knees was completely exposed.
I watched as he followed the directions of the photographer and propped one black-booted foot on the front so his knee was bent and even more of his skin showed.
“Good,” the photographer said, backing up and checking the shot in his camera. “Unbutton the shirt.”
Lorhaven was wearing a thin, gauzy-type white shirt that buttoned up the front. I watched his long fingers skillfully work the front open and pull the sides to reveal his muscled, sinewy torso.
He had genuine olive-toned skin. The kind that stayed tan all year round. It was the kind of skin tone most people in Argentina had, where my mother grew up. Robust she would call him—a prime specimen of a virile man.
As the breeze blew, a stand of dark hair fell out of place and over his forehead. He smoothed it back by running his hands through the longer strands at the top, which gave him a done but not too done appearance.
“Joey…” The photographer motioned. “If I could get you between his legs.”
I reminded myself this was for work and did as I was told. I expected to see some kind of humor or sick satisfaction on his face, because I was literally instructed to get between his legs, so when I looked up, it was with defiance.
He needed to know I was doing this because I had to. Not because I wanted to.
Lorhaven’s eyes were already on mine when I met his stare.
There was no look of satisfaction on his face. Instead, there was a predatory glint, like I was a rabbit stepping right into his clutches.
But he wasn’t going to eat me. He was going to play.
And I was going to like it.
Invisible electricity of some kind flared between us. Like a rope, it towed me forward. If my hips swayed a little more provocatively, it was because of the camera, because I was doing my job.
His stare dropped away first, slipping down to my chest, where it lingered. The girls were pretty much on display because of the tank they’d put me in, and it wasn’t as if I’d never had men leer at me before.
But he wasn’t leering r
ight now.
Lorhaven was… making me hungry.
I snapped my eyes away and spun, making sure my hair hit him in the face.
The sound of his sputtering made me smirk.
“Okay, good,” the photographer called. I could hear the clicking of the camera. “Lean back,” he told me. I did. “Closer,” he urged.
My body was tight. I was uncomfortable. Modeling was clearly not for me. And neither was sitting in a dickhead’s lap.
“Relax,” Lorhaven murmured, snaking an arm around my waist to pull me back fully against him.
My ass fit right against his crotch; my back pressed against his chest.
I went stiff for a few seconds, but then, without any kind of force, I relaxed into him. He felt like a blanket just out of the dryer or a shirt I’d let hang in the sun while I was in the pool. He radiated the kind of heat that could only be generated naturally.
His bare chest brushed against the backs of my bare arms, and without any warning, the arm wrapped around my waist found the hem of my tank top and lifted so his hand could splay out over the curved part of my exposed waist.
I sucked in a breath and went taut once more.
“What are you doing?” I ground out.
“Giving them what they want,” He whispered against my hair.
I glanced over, and indeed, the photographer looked enthused. “Yes,” he said, clicking a few more times.
“Just go with it.” His fingertips caressed my side, and my skin broke out in goosebumps.
His free hand lifted, pulled all my hair to one side, and let it fall over my shoulder. My arms loosened and one hand fell down to rest on top of his thigh. Just beneath my fingertips was a rip, and I brushed, accidentally, against his skin.
Against my lower back, his stomach muscles tightened.
Inside, I smirked, and I did it again, this time letting my fingers stop atop the rip, pressing fully against his skin.
A scruffy chin hit my bare shoulder, and his arm tightened around my waist.
“Wrap your legs…” The photographer started, but Lorhaven was already moving.
I was tugged farther onto the hood of the Lotus, kept tightly between his legs. How he moved and kept hold of me, I wasn’t sure… but it was making me a little breathless.
#Swag (GearShark #3) Page 5
