Rocky Road Read online

  Billie rolled off me, my shoulders slingshotting to the ground as she released my arms. I rolled over, using the back of my hand to wipe the gritty sand from my face.

  Billie kneeled a body's length away from me, her legs wide, and pulled a chunk of hair out of her mouth. In the dazzling light of the setting sun she looked like a warrior. Which would make me her enemy. This wasn't going well.

  "I'm sorry," I said.

  She was out of breath, I noticed, though she remained in the attack position rather than sinking to the ground. Given what Ty had told me about what it took to be a driver, she was probably exhausted after the race.

  I pulled my hair back and over my shoulder, shaking the sand out of it. "I wanted to see you again, but if you're freaked out by me, I can go."

  "What do you want?" she asked.

  "A drink?"

  "I already told you I don't have time."

  "Well, it seems like you have a few minutes now. I thought I'd make it easier for you if I came to you."

  "Thanks, but I'd rather be alone."

  Well, shit. That was pretty definitive. Her words were definitive, anyway. Her eyes, those beautiful eyes that looked like they belonged in a tropical forest, said something else. They traced up my legs and arms and over my pendant necklace. Hesitating, they flicked to my face. The wind caught her hair made it stand straight up, twisting it like dancing eels.

  She wants to say yes.

  "Can I be honest with you?" I asked, sliding onto my butt and pulling up my knees.

  "Sure."

  Might as well go for it. What did I have to lose? "I made a bet with my friend that I would have sex with you tonight."

  Billie opened her mouth and shook her head, looking away.

  "It's either you or scooping hedgehog poop for a two weeks while he's on vacation."

  "What?"

  "That's our wager."

  "Well, that was a stupid wager on your part."

  "Was it?"

  "Yeah." Billie folded her arms. On her left side, she had a jungle of tattoos. A wing at the shoulder, disintegrating into a vine-filled forest. The tattoos had been covered by her racing outfit earlier, but they were a window to a different side of her. An edgy side.

  That's the Billie I wanted. "Want to hear some more truth?"

  "Why not?"

  "I think you're hot as hell and if I go home alone tonight, I'll still be with you in my mind. One way or another..."

  Billie's eyebrows raised. Her body froze. Then she barked out a laugh. This one was from her throat rather than her stomach. "You don't take no for an answer, do you?"

  "Not when the person I'm asking really wants to say yes."

  It was a risk challenging her like this, but I didn't have much to lose at this point. Billie seemed paused at the top of her breath. "If you're trying to get in a relationship with me—"

  I burst out laughing so hard I gripped my stomach and almost face-planted in the sand again. "I'm not looking for a relationship, Billie Page. Just a night. With you."

  Billie still hesitated, though now she had a smile on her face. "A night… just one? No strings?"

  "Hell, I don't even know how to make string."

  Billie blinked. I couldn't tell what she was thinking behind her implacable face. I couldn't wait to see what would happen when she let her guard down.

  "Want to get a drink at the bar?" I asked.

  "No," Billie said softly, shaking her head. She stood.

  Wait, I thought. Billie started walking away and I scraped my mind for something else to say.

  Then she stopped. "My room number is 545. Meet me there in half an hour."

  It took a moment for me to understand what was happening. When I did, I rolled over in the sand and laughed. She said yes. She said yes.

  ...

  BILLIE

  What I did was stupid for more reasons than I could count, but here were a few.

  One, I gave my stalker my hotel room number.

  Two, I was exhausted after the race and now that I saw my bed, sleep seemed more appealing than sex.

  Three, what if she was a murderer?

  Did I mention I gave my stalker my hotel room number?

  At what point had I decided to do this? To go off the plan? My life for the past decade had operated in a set way with a set schedule. This was an aberration, an indulged impulse. Something deep inside that said yes. At this point, I was willing to try anything to jumpstart my career again. This could be the thing. But what if it wasn't? What if it somehow made me worse?

  Calm down, Billie.

  My phone buzzed with my father's number. If I didn't answer he would call and call again. Then he would call my room, and if I didn't answer that he would come here himself to make sure I was okay. It was easier just to answer.

  "I know why you backed off. You got tired at the end there," he said, jumping right in after my hello. "You just have to work harder."

  I sunk in to the pillows on the bed, running my hands over my eyes. I'd forgotten about my headache until that moment.

  "Are you there?"

  "Yeah, Dad. I agree. I was tired today."

  "Well, you'll just have to start sleeping better."

  Because it's just that easy.

  "How did your meeting with the Almansa Group go?" he asked.

  "Great."

  He paused. "Well? Do you think they'll sponsor you?"

  "I don't know. It's hard to tell what corporations are going to do."

  "What was the vibe you got?"

  "I'm pretty sure they liked me."

  "Ed said you did well."

  Why was he even bothering to ask me if he had already got the run-down from Ed? I glanced at my clock. Exactly thirty minutes had passed since I told Krysta to come to my room. Maybe she wouldn't come at all.

  But sex. Where would I get that if not from her?

  The tension balled in my stomach as my father listed my schedule for the next day.

  Work out with a local trainer, pool time, simulation, blah blah blah. He had it scheduled down to the food I would eat (eggs, one piece of bacon, a banana). With every word, the grip on my stomach tightened like a coiled spring. I could feel myself wanting to lash out at him. It sounded so boring.

  You know what wasn't boring? Krysta. Her brazen courage. More than that, her hips under mine when I tackled her to the ground. What would she feel like when were together? My stomach tightened at this thought, too. Why had I agreed to this? This was not in the plan.

  "What do you think?" Dad asked.

  "Hm?"

  "Are you paying attention?"

  "I'm sorry, Dad. I'm really tired." Or not, but it was easier to say this than anything else.. "I'm going to watch the race again and head to bed."

  Dad paused. "Is there something going on with you I should know about? Was it not just exhaustion today?"

  For years, I had shared everything with my father. He knew everything about my life, down to when I got my period. As my manager, this just made it easier for him to plan my schedule. But I hadn't told him about the pit in my stomach. I definitely wouldn't tell him about my plans tonight. This was mine. I needed something that was mine or the spring would explode out of me. "Nope. Just tired. Talk tomorrow, okay?"

  As I hung up, the urge to rip the bed apart, tilt the picture on the wall, and stay up all night drinking whiskey flooded me. I clenched my fists and squeezed my eyes shut, trying to push those urges away. The tension, layered on the effort of the day, hardened my muscles.

  Krysta was late. I could be sleeping, or at the gym rolling out my muscles or taking a yoga class. I could be in a full-blown rebellion instead of waiting for sex that probably wouldn't even be good. When had sex with a stranger ever been good?

  Possibly, when you haven't had sex with anyone—including yourself—for over a year. Once she had suggested it, the thought had lodged in my mind like a sliver. Now, I couldn't get it out if I wanted to.

  But I couldn't just sit and
wait.

  I stood and walked toward the door. As I opened it, I came face-to-face with Krysta.

  She was more beautiful than I remembered. Younger than me, I saw now that I looked at her straight on. She was the picture of summer. Bright and sunny, with legs that went for miles and a smile that would brighten the night.

  "Are you going to invite me in?" She held up two bags. "I brought some food. I didn't know if you were vegetarian or a meat-lover or whatever, so I got a little of both."

  Fuck it.

  I stepped forward, took her cheeks in my hands, and kissed her straight on the mouth. The bags dropped to the floor with a whap. She snaked her arms around my neck, molding her body to mine like we had done this many times before.

  My mind slowed, as if I was applying brakes to my swirling thoughts and gas to pure feeling. Her fingers trailed into my hair, and then she fisted it, pulling my head back. Her lips pressed into the pulse at my neck, sending a shiver down my shoulder and a jolt to my core. My heart sped, reaching speeds it usually only reached in my car.

  Who was this woman?

  I pulled away from her to catch my breath. "I'm sorry. Do you want to eat first?"

  She lifted her hands and slid her straps over her shoulders. Then she pushed the jumpsuit down over her waist, leaving only a crimson bralette and lace panties.

  I guess that means no. I hurried out of my shorts and shirt as if I was afraid she was going to leave if I moved too slowly.

  Once done, I stepped forward. She pushed me away, her fingertips against the tops of my shoulders. Not expecting this, I stumbled backward until the backs of my legs met the mattress.

  I sat and she straddled me. Her fingernails dug into my back, scraping lightly down the long expanse, popping my bra open. I didn't know what she would do next. My skin tingled in anticipation.

  She bit the skin on top of my shoulder.

  This burst something inside me like a water balloon. Adrenaline ran through me. Leaning back, I rolled her over in one swift movement, shoving my leg between hers.

  She kissed me, pressing herself against my leg, dancing and moaning, her dampness seeping through the thin fabric of her panties so I could feel it on my leg. I wanted her. I wanted closer to her, but I was having trouble with her panties. They seemed to be caught on something. My leg, perhaps? Whatever. I reached down, hooked a finger over the thin band and pulled. A rip echoed through the air.

  "What the hell?" Krysta muttered into my mouth.

  "I'll buy you new ones."

  "You better."

  "Hush, you liked it."

  "I—"

  "Shut up." It was as if kissing her lips pulled some of her courage into me. I moved to her neck, her chin, her mouth to see if I could find more of that. She tasted sweet as spring. I nibbled her ear, sending moans of pleasure through her. My fingers sought out another pleasure center, trailing up her thighs with the lightest possible touch. When they reached the folds between her legs, I removed my fingers from her skin.

  Krysta pulled away, her eyes searching mine, so dark they were almost black. Keeping hold of her gaze, I let one finger drop through her folds.

  She gasped, closing her eyes, throwing her head back.

  A gasp slipped through my lips as well. I barely knew her, yet I could feel the thrumming of her body. One finger, two fingers, three. I could watch the pleasure wash over her face forever. As her lidded eyes started to open again, I let my thumb edge up around her clitoris. Her cries heightened in pitch.

  The next thing I knew she was on top of me, my shoulders pinned to the bed. The hand which had claimed her as my own cooled in the air.

  She straddled me. Then, she moved down, hooked two fingers and ripped my underwear. "Now we're even," she said, smirking.

  "You… are…" I met her kiss halfway. She pressed her pussy against mine and the softness of her folds—of both of us, naked together—blinded me with pleasure.

  "Not so fast," she whispered in my ear. She cradled my head in the crook of her arm, holding her body over mine with the other arm. Her eyes looked like cooled embers, like she wanted nothing more in the world than to look at me.

  When I'm in the zone racing, the world narrows to one point, one moment, all the rest falls away. The same thing happened in this moment—except I wasn't the one driving. And I wanted to be. I slipped out from under her and rolled us over so I was on top again. Krysta's hands flew to my breasts, and I pinned her to the bed. She moaned, arching her body into mine. I circled around her pelvic bone, letting my body grow heavy on her.

  It took so little with her. It had been so long. Just as I was about to tip over the edge, I pulled away, breathing long deep breaths.

  What the hell was happening to me? Who was this woman?

  "Are you a witch?" I asked.

  "Of course not," she whispered.

  "Then who are you?"

  She struggled to break free, managing to sneak her leg between mine. I slipped on her with my own wetness, riding her, gaining speed. I gathered her wrists in one hand and shoved my fingers into her. Gentleness had a time and a place, and it wasn't there. My thumb played her as it had before. She bucked, her breaths growing shorter. I increased my pace to match hers, watching her all the time. Watching the pleasure she felt at my touch. Feeling on top of the world.

  Her scream sent me over my own edge. I could feel her clenching around me, her body lost, my mind gone.

  I win. I pulled away, letting her breathe, taking the extra moment to examine the beauty of her. Her tight abs, her long, muscular legs. I tried to lock every piece of her into my memory so the next time I was alone in my room, the next time I had so much energy I thought I would scream, I would have her to think about.

  Our eyes met. She said nothing, though her lips parted and her eyes squinted in disbelief. I wondered if my look mirrored hers because I was certainly feeling something close to it. How had we been so incredibly in tune when we didn't even know one another? I rolled over and studied the ceiling to avoid her gaze, afraid of what I would find there. Afraid of what I would do if saw my feelings reflected in her expression.

  "Do you come to Florida often?" she asked.

  "No." I stole a glance at her. Hadn't we already talked about this? "I'm not. I mean. I'm not in a place—"

  "Give me your phone." She placed her palm up between us.

  "Why?"

  "Give it to me, woman, before I make you." She sat up, leaning against the fat pillow of my bed, perfectly unselfconscious in her nakedness.

  I don't know why I obeyed her—perhaps I was weak from our session—but I did. I reached over to the bedside table and handed her the phone. She hit the power button to turn on the screen, then handed it back. "Password?"

  I swiped my password pattern and handed it back to her. I would give her five seconds with it. Five. Four. Three. Holy crap five seconds was a long time. Two. One.

  "Now you have my number and address so you can send me a new pair of panties." She tossed my phone onto the mattress and swung her legs around.

  "That's not fair, you ripped mine, too!"

  "But you're the fancy racecar driver."

  A laugh escaped through my lips. She was… I didn't even know how to describe her in my own mind. Full. That's it. She was full of life and energy. I folded my arms. "I'm an IndyCar driver."

  "Whatever."

  "I'm just saying, if you're going to brag about me, you should get the terminology right."

  She laughed, stepping out of the bed.

  As she put on her clothes, my throat tightened. I wanted to see her again. I wanted to be with her again. To laugh. When was the last time I'd laughed? Or joked? I'd actually made a joke in there somewhere.

  Before I could find the words to ask her, she gave me a little finger-wave and a wink. She picked up her purse and strode toward the door. "Now I can say I slept with the first woman to win the Indy 500."

  "Actually a woman named Maude won in 1928. And it's unlikely I'll win."
<
br />   "You better. I refuse to sleep with anyone who's second-best." She turned around and shook her head at me, her eyes staring. I tried to cement her into my mind, just like that. Her eyes bright, her hair mussed. Her brow raised. "Goodbye, Billie Page," she said.

  "Bye," I said, though it was only a whisper as she left.

  I sunk back into the pillows, my mind swirling with thoughts, with flashbacks to our time together. None of it seemed real. It was like she had been dropped there just for me. She was exactly what I'd needed.

  As I caught my breath, I realized something.

  For the first time in a year, the pain in my stomach had completely vanished. As soon as the thought entered my mind, the pain returned.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  KRYSTA

  She was even better than expected. Hands-down the best sex I'd ever had.

  As I sauntered out of the elevator, I had to stop myself from skipping through the lobby like a little girl. It wasn't like I was a stranger to orgasms. I had plenty of sex. I wasn't an addict or anything, or too much of a player, I just liked women. I fell for a lot of them, the falling just didn't usually last more than I night.

  As soon as I stepped out of The Beachcomber, I remembered my deal with Ty. I'd done it. I'd actually done it. Would he believe I had done it? Would he take my word for it?

  Pics or it didn't happen.

  I chuckled to myself. You know what? I didn't even care. I actually did skip, once I left the parking lot of The Beachcomber, unable to contain the energy bubbling through my limbs. I was so happy I was starting to make myself sick.

  As I calmed, I pulled out my phone and brought up the number for Billie. I typed a message as I strolled down the street.

  Lacy thongs, medium, in jewel tones with wide bands, please. At least three pairs.

  Three dots appeared on the screen, went away, then reappeared again. Who do you think I am, Victoria's Secret? You get ONE.

  They come in sets. If you buy one you have to buy three.

  You're pushing your luck, missy. And how did you get my number?

  I'd texted myself from her phone so I would know who was calling if she did call. I chuckled. How do you know it's me?