Revving it Up Page 5

  Movement in his peripheral vision told him Sami had joined him on the starting line of Goanna Tracks’ main circuit.

  He refrained from turning to her. Ever since she’d arrived with Rutledge barely twenty minutes ago, he’d been unable to miss the charged tension between them. Nor had he been able to ignore the unexpected quickening of his heart when she climbed out of Rutledge’s pickup.

  He’d tried. The last thing he needed was an unplanned emotional attraction. He lusted after Sami; that was all. He was sexually attracted to her, nothing more. He was definitely ready to make her his sexual conquest. But emotionally attracted to her? The kind of attraction that made his heart beat faster? Nope.

  No.

  But now, with her standing right beside him, wearing shorts shorter than shorts had a right to be, a tank top that finished just above her navel and her platinum-blonde hair dyed a brilliant blue, he found himself lingering not on how hot she looked but on how she’d helped Jay remove her bike from the pickup with confident competence.

  What the hell was wrong with him?

  “Doesn’t look like much of a challenge,” he continued, forcing his stare to stay on the crazy-steep launch slope ahead of them.

  Beside him, Sami chuckled. Not her normal go-fuck-yourself-Swanson laugh he’d replayed often in his head while in the shower, but a strained, somehow guarded one. “It’s one of the most taxing in the world, from what I understand.”

  Stealing himself against whatever bewildering response looking at her may cause, he gave her a sideways smirk. “Taxing for others maybe. Not me.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You really are a wanker.”

  “And yet, you still want me. Admit it.”

  A blush turned her cheeks a delicious pink. “Go fuck yourself, Swanson,” she muttered, pivoting on her heel to stomp back to Rutledge.

  Eli watched her go. Noted how his ex-mechanic seemed to avoid making eye-contact with her as she stopped at her bike.

  Eli’s pulse thumped. What was going on there?

  Gut in an uncharacteristic knot, he pulled his cell from his pocket and called his PA.

  Dianne answered on the second ring. “Sir?”

  “Do you know why Sami and Rutledge are pissed at each other?”

  His personal assistant made some kind of horrified chirp. “They are? Do you want me to find out?”

  Eli pulled a face. “No. Have you made the reservation yet?”

  “Yes, sir. Table for three. Nine p.m. this evening.” There was a pause. “May I ask, is the third person Jay Rutledge?”

  “You can ask,” Eli answered, tracking Jay’s movement to the pickup to retrieve something from it, a tool of some kind, no doubt to turn Sami’s bike into a machine of engineering perfection.

  “I’m going now,” he said before she could actually repeat her question. “I’ll inform you when I’m back in Sydney.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Oh, and Dianne?”

  “Sir?”

  “Why don’t you take the day off?”

  His PA tittered out a surprised laugh. “Really?”

  Eli smiled. “Really.”

  For reasons he didn’t want to analyze, his gut knotted at the fact she’d asked about Jay.

  Surely you’re not getting a conscience after all this time? Are you?

  Stuffing his phone back into his pocket, he continued to watch the woman he lusted after and the man who’d once been his closest friend.

  In the same way he didn’t do weak, he didn’t do conscience.

  He didn’t.

  Fifteen minutes later—charged minutes, during which neither Jay nor Sami said a word to each other—Sami returned to Eli’s side. “Ready to get your arse handed to you?” she asked, meeting his gaze. The Sami Charlton of old was back, although Eli sensed the feisty, screw-you attitude was tempered.

  What had happened in the last four days to bring this about?

  He slid a look at Rutledge, still squatting beside her bike, fiddling with the choke knob. The man seemed…tense.

  Eli narrowed his eyes. He knew Jay well. Rutledge was at his most relaxed when he was in mechanic mode, and he was in mechanic mode the second he positioned himself at a bike. That Eli could see the tension in his body at all, let alone from this distance…

  He returned his attention to Sami. “What’s the deal between you and the wonder mechanic?”

  Sami stiffened. “What do you mean, deal?”

  Eli laughed. “You may be an above-average rider, Charlton, but never ever play poker. I would put big money on the fact you and Rutledge aren’t on speaking terms. Now tell me why.”

  Something dark and tormented flicked over her face, there and gone just as quick. “My arse, your lips, Swanson.”

  “Definitely my lips and your ass. And your pussy. And your breasts. And your—”

  She shoved him. Hard enough to make him stagger back a few steps.

  “Whoa.” He laughed, recovering his balance and snaring her wrist at the same time. “Feeling all aggressive today, are we? I like it.”

  Before she could respond, he yanked her to his body and captured her lips with his.

  Instant desire flooded him. Hot and base and primitive.

  He’d intended the kiss to be short, sharp and savage. A way of throwing her off, of unsettling her. And maybe of seeing how Rutledge would react.

  The moment his tongue swept into her mouth, however, intent evaporated. Replaced instead with an overwhelming need to make Sami feel cherished with his kiss.

  It scared the shit out of him.

  As did the whimper she made as she softened against his body and pressed her hips to his.

  With a confused grunt he hid in a smug growl, Eli tore his lips from hers.

  Tender and sweet were not his things. Especially not with—

  “Bike’s ready.”

  He started at Jay’s low statement. As did Sami.

  She turned and hurried away without making eye contact with either of them. Eli could tell the cocky strut she affected as she crossed to the pickup was forced.

  “You going to tell me what’s going on?” he asked Jay as he watched Sami lean into the dusty vehicle’s passenger-side window and withdraw a bag covered in sponsorship badges. Probably her gear.

  “What’s going on is you’re going to get your arse handed to you.”

  At Jay’s flat declaration—almost a word-for-word echo of Sami’s earlier question—Eli dragged his focus to the Australian beside him. “And when that happens, we both get to fuck her, a situation you agreed to. Of course, we both know that’s not going to happen, right? We both know I’m going to hand Sami her ass. And then I’m going to take possession of that sweet ass and do the most wonderful things to—”

  Eyes dangerous, Jay took a step closer to Eli.

  Eli held up his hands, retreating a step. “Where is everyone’s sense of fun today?” he asked.

  Jay glared at him.

  Eli met his stare. Searched the man’s eyes for a hint of what was going on. “You said yes to a threesome, Jay,” he finally said. For some reason, his lungs felt heavy. “And lets be serious, there was a time when the only way you’d have sex was in a threesome with me. We shared all our conquests before. Threesomes were our thing, remember?”

  Jay’s jaw bunched. So did, Eli noticed, his fists. “Sami’s not a conquest.”

  “And yet, I bet you got hard watching me kiss her just now.” God, why was he goading Jay so much? What was he trying to prove?

  That you’re still you?

  “What do you want me to say?” Jay asked. “That watching you kiss her turned me on?”

  Eli let his lips curl into a smirk. “Seems obvious.”

  Jay closed the distance between them. Towered over Eli. Drilled his stare into Eli’s. “How the fuck I put up with you for so long is beyond me, Swanson.”

  “Admit it, you’ve missed me. And I’ve missed you. As has Dianne.”

  For the second time in a f
ive-day period, his ex-mechanic smashed a fist into his jaw.

  This time, Eli recognized as his ass thumped into the dirt, Jay didn’t pull the punch.

  From the ground, Eli looked up at his one-time friend. Perhaps mentioning his personal assistant hadn’t been smart? “I thought you’d be over her by now? It was how many years ago?”

  Jay leaned down toward him. Cold distaste turned his eyes to hard chips. “What I’m not over is you being a dick. And what you’re doing to Sami.”

  Eli swallowed. “I don’t know what’s happened between you two since Tuesday, but there’s no way you can deny the way she responds to me. Just as you can’t deny the way you respond when she does.”

  Jay’s nostrils flared. Apart from that, he didn’t react.

  Chuckling, Eli straightened to his feet. “Jealousy doesn’t suit you, Rutledge. It never did.”

  Jay dragged in a slow breath. “I didn’t quit as your mechanic because of jealousy, Eli. I quit because of trust.”

  With that, Jay spun on his heel and headed for his pickup.

  Sami now stood beside it, her sinfully sexy shorts and tummy-exposing tank replaced with full riding gear, right down to the helmet tucked between her hip and arm.

  Eli’s throat thickened at the sight. At the curiosity in her eyes. And the desire he knew she wished she didn’t feel.

  She studied him across the distance and then turned to Jay, following him to where her bike waited.

  Eli regarded them both, his blood roared in his ears. His gut churned. He’d goaded Jay like that before, usually to get the best out of the guy—when Jay was simmering with pent-up tension, whatever threesome they’d been partaking of was explosive. So why was the man’s obvious torment making him feel so guilty now?

  You know why. The man said it himself. Sami is more than just a conquest.

  “That she is,” he murmured.

  The lump in his throat grew. A prickling heat crept up his spine, over his scalp. His gut rolled over itself.

  He watched Sami hand her helmet to Jay, his pulse deafening in his ears. Watched her swing her leg over the seat—on which the scrawl of her signature was stitched into the leather—and settle astride it.

  His mouth dried as he thought of her sex rubbing against that leather. There was a rumor circulating the motocross world that Sami Charlton orgasmed every time she rode her bike. A rumor he dismissed as ridiculous.

  Watching her adjust her position on her bike now, however, as Jay stood directly beside her, his gaze clinging to her face, awareness in his eyes…

  Eli’s cock twitched in his jeans. The thought of Sami coming while he raced her turned him on. Unsettled him and turned him on.

  He dragged in a slow breath, the strong scent of dirt, motor oil and eucalyptus trees filling his tight lungs.

  When Sami raised her attention from her bike to look at Jay, that breath caught in Eli’s throat.

  She studied Jay.

  Jay returned her gaze.

  Neither spoke, and yet even from where he stood, Eli could hear everything their bodies were saying.

  It was more than lust and desire winding around them both. So much more.

  “Fuck,” he ground out.

  A dark pressure wrapped around his chest, his soul.

  Unable to tear his stare from the two of them, he stood motionless—lungs burning, eyes dry. Stood and watched and bit back a curse as Sami raised her gloved hand, cupping it to Jay’s clenched jaw.

  His heart smashed fast into his throat. Hammered at his ears.

  And then Sami looked over at him, her grin wide. “Ready, fuck-knuckle?”

  Before he could answer, she took her helmet from Jay—now also grinning at him—and slipped it over her head.

  By the time Sami finished her third slow practice lap of the main Goanna Tracks circuit, feeling out the course, getting to know its personality, its quirks and traps, Eli was starting his first.

  She throttled back on the second to last elevation, letting him shoot past her.

  She’d unsettled him.

  That was good. Maybe unfair, given what was at stake, but good.

  You’d unsettled him? Fuck, woman, you’ve never been so off your game as you are now. What with the whole shit storm between you and Jay. And how your stupid body reacts to Swanson every time you’re near him…

  The trouble was, she’d got herself into this situation and she had no clue how to get out of it.

  And she wanted out of it. She thought.

  Okay, maybe she didn’t. The idea of Jay and Eli making love to her at the same time still pushed so many debauched buttons in her she wondered how she continued to function.

  Of course, the fact she’d fled the garage after the most intense experience of her life with Jay four days ago only made it worse now.

  For the first time in her life, Sami Charlton had run away from something scary, rather than laughing at it and taking it on.

  Motocross racing was nothing compared to the dangerous situation she found herself in now—possibly being in love with one guy, while hot to trot and eager to fuck another. To have both of them at once…

  Her pussy constricted at the thought and she spurred her bike faster over the rise.

  As soon as she finished the goddamn fucking race, she’d get herself sorted.

  And when you win, you get both Jay and—

  “Shuddup,” she ground out.

  “Didn’t say anything, boss.” Jay’s voice tickled her ear through her helmet’s comm speaker.

  A wave of giddy nerves washed over her. Her right foot slipped off the rest. Her grip on the accelerator did the same. Her bike wobbled.

  Damn it, since when had the sound of Jay’s voice in her head during a race ruffled her so?

  “Sorry,” she said, regaining control of her bike.

  She gunned the motor, propelling up the insane elevation before her with blinding speed.

  The bike ate air, gliding through emptiness with smooth perfection.

  Sami gripped the handles and launched her arse from the seat into a dead body, slicing the air around her, horizontal to the blur of ground beneath her.

  “Was that necessary, boss?” Jay asked in her ear, the question a gentle reproach.

  He’d be thinking of the bike of course. No doubt of the opinion she hadn’t warmed it up enough to be pushing it like that.

  Or maybe he’s poking fun at you for losing your cool?

  Furious—and unsettled even more—she repositioned her feet on the rests and prepared for the jarring thud of landing.

  Not once during the air-born trick did she feel the familiar tightening of her inner walls. A move like that would normally ignite the purely physical arousal she always experienced when riding. This time…

  Nadda.

  Nothing.

  What the fuck did that mean?

  Navigating the sweeping banks, triples and tabletops at the track at a snail’s pace, she chewed over the lack of arousal.

  If Jay and/or Eli had ruined getting off while riding for her, she was going to kill them.

  Yeah. Sure. Admit it, what you’re really trying to decide is whether to try to win or not.

  An invisible fist slammed into Sami’s tummy. She hit the brakes, spinning her bike into a dirt-spewing halt a mere few meters away from the finish line.

  Stared at that line, her blood roaring in her ears.

  Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

  “Boss?” Concern laced Jay’s voice. “Everything okay?”

  She didn’t answer.

  If she lost the race to Eli, they’d have sex. She knew that was how he’d interpret the “anything” part of her bet, and for some fucked-up reason, she wanted him to interpret it that way.

  Sami had no doubt sex with Eli Swanson would be mind-blowing. Wild, fierce, sweat-soaking, sheet-bunching, name-screaming sex. Sex with Eli would be no other way.

  And by the way her body throbbed and pulsed and thrummed, sex with Eli was definitely on her to-
do list. He may be an egotistical prick, but he pushed her sexual buttons. Big time.

  But at the thought of Eli winning, a dark cold shadow filled her. One that had nothing to do with Eli proving his ridiculous proclamation that male motocross riders were better than female ones, and everything to do with Jay.

  When she thought of sex, even sex with Eli, Jay was there. Since the night she’d run like a little chicken from the garage, she’d been incapable of thinking about sex in any way without thinking of Jay.

  The trouble was, it wasn’t just sex she thought of when she thought of Jay now.

  It was something far more profound. Far more petrifying.

  If she lost the race, she and Eli would do the deed and Jay would not be a part of it.

  But if she won the race, he would. And she wanted to have sex with Jay again. God, she wanted to have sex with Jay again more than she wanted anything.

  But the next time she and Jay did it, it wouldn’t just be sex. There was no doubt about that at all.

  Did she want more than just sex from her mechanic?

  He’s more than your mechanic, woman, and you know that. He’s your friend, your confidant, your wingman.

  “My everything?” she muttered, head spinning.

  “Sam? You okay? Is the bike okay?”

  She flinched at Jay’s question. Gasped a little.

  “Talk to me, Sam.”

  Sami gulped for air. Holy fuck, why did she feel like she was suffocating? Why did she feel—

  A black-and-neon-green blur shot past her, dust and dirt a billowing tail behind it.

  “Fuck,” she snapped, gripping the handlebars as she watched Eli shoot over the finish line and continue his second practice lap.

  “Unless there’s something wrong with your bike,” Jay’s voice sounded in her ear, “you’ve got no one to blame but yourself for the wanker startling you like that.”

  Gunning the throttle, Sami launched her bike after Eli. “Shut the fuck up, Rutledge.”

  Jay laughed.

  The sound flooded her with a tingly warmth. Not just a sexual one, but a joyful one.

  Oh man, she really was screwed.

  Chapter Six

  It was obvious to Jay, three laps into the actual race, that Sami and Eli were on equal footing.