CHAPTER SIX
SUNNY
I spent the night dreaming of a certain race car driver who haunted me with a sinful smile and clever hands that brought bursts of pleasure to my body everywhere he touched me.
A driver I wasn’t supposed to be anywhere near, let alone flirting with or dream about.
When I woke, I instinctively reached for the phantom of the man I had spent the night with, but I only encountered the cold, starched sheets of my bed. My own bed, where I hadn’t had a male visitor in…forever.
Not that I was a virginal princess by any means, but the few relationships I had tried never made it past the first few months. Between the seasonal travel and a boss like Benson, my dream version of a boyfriend—the quiet, thoughtful type who was more likely to read poetry in another language than a racing manual, not the one who tortured me the night before—never stood a chance.
Not against the aggressive alpha males who dominated the racing world.
Benson seemed to take a personal interest in removing anything—and anyone —who crept into my life. Anything that might distract my attention from him , as though he should be able to control every hour…even outside the racetrack.
Apparently dominating our corner of the racing world wasn’t enough.
Being on the circuit had the side benefit of passing through my hometown. On the rare occasion I got to sleep in my own bed and slip into the office that my previous boss leant me for personal use.
While the drivers moved on to the next track at the beginning of the season I claimed a brief reprieve to see my sister, and had a chance to concentrate on my own fledgling business. Something I kept secret from Benson in the event he decided to stake his claim on that, too.
That Hawk had walked into my career and started to unravel the proverbial rug out from beneath me one string at a time was terrifying, sexy as hell and a touch amusing. Benson would flip if he saw Hawk continued flirting with me…though that put my career in jeopardy, which was where the terrifying bit came in.
To be fair, Hawk had that same, intense personality that bordered on obsessive tendencies as my boss. I was never sure if I should be flattered, aroused or run the hell away when he turned up at random places away from the track. I’d seen him outside the soup kitchen once, and again when I had gone grocery shopping. Surely the city was big enough for us not to run into each other endlessly.
Which brought me back to the night I had spent in the arms of a phantom, all because of the driver who refused to leave me alone and my under-sexed over-worked personal life that needed some serious stimulation.
I threw my arms over my head and let out a groan.
“Are you okay in there?” my sister called through the thin walls of our shared townhouse.
Shared, when I spent less than six months of the year in the building.
“I’m fine,” I yelled back. A different sort of fine thank I used with Benson on the phone, though the meaning remained the same. Jamming a pillow over my face and more than a little desperate for a place to let out the sexual frustration that had built within me after a crappy night’s sleep I muttered every curse word I could summon on demand. Not that I knew who I aimed them at. Hawk or Benson both seemed decent targets right now.
My bedroom door clicked open. I peeked out from beneath my pillow to stare at a face that almost mirrored my own.
“Doesn’t sound like it.” Honey leaned against my door frame bearing a mug of steaming coffee in each hand. “Sorry I was asleep when you came in last night.”
I waved the comment away, returning to the dim light my pillow provided, though it was a pathetic shield from the rest of the world. “I’ll get up. I will do something useful today. And I won’t dream about sexy race car drivers.” I tossed the pillow in the air, catching it again before it gave me a wake up slap in the face.
“Driver?” Honey perched on the edge of my bed, holding out a mug. “Like Benson, your driver? A budding workplace romance?”
“Not Benson.”
The thought of intimacy with my boss left my empty stomach flipping over on itself, and not in a good way. Damnit . Dinner hadn’t happened last night. Again. Not only was my circadian rhythm being thrown out by my wacky work hours, but I’d also started snacking like a nocturnal beast as well.
I shoved my pillow aside, hoisting myself out of my sheets to grab my coffee. My pajamas were covered in sweat and stuck to me in random places. I plucked at the material with no small measure of disgust, though heat rushed to my cheeks at the fading memory of the dream racer’s touches last night.
Honey raised an eyebrow, giving me a knowing glance. “Like that, is it?”
“It’s Hawk.” His name tripped on my tongue too smoothly. “I hate him. He’s infuriating.” No, that wasn’t fair. Benson was those things. Hawk was… “Okay, fine. I might like some things about him, but he’s still an asshole,” I grumbled, sipping my coffee and winced. “Burnt beans?”
Honey held out her other hand, fingers extended that she folded down as she verbally ticked off her list. “Charity owner. Research assistant. Broke. Overpriced apartment. Dregs are what we’ve got.”
This last came out in a singsong voice that told me how close to cracking she was. Looks like we have something in common this morning. My big sister smiled at me over her cup, her unperturbed facade firmly back in place.
That she scraped up a living—if you could call it that—from more than one job while I swanned around the countryside on my own hot lap ate at me. I promised myself that while ever I was in town I would make more time to volunteer hours at the kitchen.
I placed my coffee on my bedside table and flicked my fingers in her direction. “Give me a list. I’ll go shopping on the way home from work.” That simple sentence triggered me. Oh, my God. I get to drive my own car again.”
Honey smiled. “Small things, huh?”
“After sleeping in a crew trailer next to Benson’s on my own for the past four weeks with next to no privacy and being surrounded by an overabundance of testosterone…yes. My own bed and my own car absolutely count as luxuries.”
“I’m surprised he doesn’t spring for a hotel room for you.”
I choked on my coffee. “Benson spring for a hotel room? For me? You’ve got to be kidding.” I swiped at the tears that ran down my cheeks with the back of my hand. “The only time Benson would do that would be if he intended to have a little fuckfest of his own.”
“Sunny!” My sister looked at me reprovingly.
“What?” I shrugged, knowing my language had picked up in the last months. “It comes from living with so many men for most of the year.”
“Maybe try to keep some class, then.” Honey scrunched her nose as she stood and stretched. “I’m going for a walk. Will I see you in the soup kitchen later on?”
“Probably,” I yawned and grabbed my coffee again. “It’s good to be home for a bit. Leave me a list of what you need. For here or work or whatever.”
Honey nodded, sweeping her hand over her hair. She kept hers dark, to suit our heritage, while I dyed mine to fit the image for my career better.
“It’s good to have you home, Sunny. Even if it’s only for a moment.” She gave me a soft smile as she headed downstairs. A moment later a door banged as she left the apartment.
Guilt swept over me in a broad wave that tightened my stomach. Maybe I should have stayed home, kept her company? Had she been lonely without me?
Of course she is . I left her alone to chase after my own ego.
My career
My mother should be cursing me from her grave for not putting family first. Instant karma sank in as my inner snark woke. Without its dose of apparently expected sex for the morning it came out swinging haymakers.
Despite pushing aside my guilt, the pressure to give it all up gnawed at me. I downed the rest of my coffee and contemplated going for a run. But the simple lure of driving my own car, listening to music I chose —while singing badly—won out. I clambered out of my bed, leaving Hawk’s empty presence alone between my sheets.
Freedom was a heady thing. Over the next week I left my Team Benson emails unchecked and unanswered. I didn’t wear leather, and I sang horrifically to not so new country rock all the way downtown each morning to the silent teachings of Maestro Steering Wheel.
Driving my own car might be a simple pleasure but it was one I reveled in. Pristine tan leather seats complimented the dark blue paintwork, and everything worked exactly the way it should, the way it had been left to me.
Traffic banked up around me as I headed through the city. I didn’t care in the least. By the time I turned into the office block where I rented a room for part of the year and fielded my own PR business my head had cleared of racetrack chatter and my brain started to churn out what I needed to organize for my clients.
“Sunny!” Janie greeted me from the building’s foyer. The petite woman ran around the desk to embrace me. “It’s been months! Sal cleared out an office for you last week, and we’ve all been so excited that you’re back! Plus, we need goss on all your hot boys.” Without waiting on an answer she led me down a corridor off the foyer and into a ground level office that looked out over a park.
I kept my lips pressed together, glad I wasn’t required to spill said goss on the spot as I took in the simple office space.
Simple, but mine.
Sunlight slanted across a single desk with a few chairs stacked against the wall opposite. I spied the coffee machine I had brought in during the last off season in the small kitchenette.
“Sorry I couldn’t get you into a higher floor,” she apologized.
“It’s great. Honestly. I’ll have my head in this.” I waved my laptop at her. “And over there.” I pointed back out the door to the coffee machine.
“It’s had ample use,” Janie assured me. “I clean it out regularly and found some great beans at a little place around the corner. They’re all labeled so you can choose from a few different roasts.”
“See, that’s why you're my favorite.” I gave Janie a one-armed hug. “Don’t stress if you don’t hear from me for a bit. I’ll be in my happy place.”
Janie grinned and left me to set up for the day.
A few hours later the sun had shifted off my desk. My stomach rumbled and my head ached. I reached for my water bottle. Empty plastic crinkled in my hand. I paused the promotional video I’d created and played back a dozen times to tweak. Pushing my chair back, I stretched tight muscles and massaged my butt. My body wasn’t used to sitting for hours at a stretch anymore.
I lapped the room once to regain some semblance of circulation and leaned out my door.
“Janie, do you want coffee?” I called down the hall.
I usually wouldn’t, but as I seemed to be the sole occupant of the lower floor offices, I didn’t stress about calling out to her. When I got no reply, I checked my watch. It was just after midday. Hell, the video had taken me that long?
Well, at least it was done. I’d organized a few appointments to present completed PR campaigns to clients early in my day, then focused on the ones that still needed work.
I crossed the hall and headed for the coffee machine. My mug sat next to it, freshly washed. I grinned. Janie was an absolute gem. Five bags of beans sat on the counter. A little Post It proclaimed try this one . I opened them all for a sniff test anyway, but had to agree with Janie’s choice.
I tipped the beans in, delighting in the dark aroma that swirled around me, and set everything up to grind. My shoulders ached from sitting in the chair, and I wondered if I had time to schedule acupuncture in the next few days. I rolled my shoulders, squeezing the muscles with my fingertips.
Hands knocked mine aside and replaced them in a smooth movement that left me frozen.
“You’re tight,” a voice commented behind me.
A voice I took a moment to recognize, because his dark, smooth tones were so out of place in an office environment.
I squeaked out an indignant and high pitched noise better suited to a squashed piglet or maybe a tiny bird. “Hawk!”
“Coops.”
“What are you doing in my office?” I started to turn back to face him, but he nudged me forward, not halting in his massage.
He hit all the right spots without asking me a single thing. I couldn’t justify pushing away the relief I had craved so desperately. Worse, he was right. I was tight, though I didn’t think that was how he had meant it. My face flamed at the double entendre.
“Would you believe I was working here?” Amusement laced his voice.
I tilted my head back, resting it against his shoulder to look up at him for the simple pleasure of contact with another person, even if said person was a fine male specimen. “I would absolutely call you out.”
“I’m working here.”
“Bullshit.”
Hawk laughed, filling the small room with his presence. “Damn, Princess. I love that about you.” He nudged my cheek with his chin, bristles brushing soft skin as he encouraged me to straighten.
I huffed. “You don’t know me.”
“I know plenty about you, Coops. I know you work for a man you shouldn't. I know you deserve a better boss. I know you have good taste in cars, because I spotted yours outside. The cobra is yours, right?”
“It was my father’s. I looked after it after we lost him.”
“We?”
“My sister and I share a townhouse.”
“Must be nice to have someone to come home to. Somewhere not…empty.” A wistful note entered Hawk’s voice.
I hesitated for a second then took the plunge. “You don’t have anyone waiting for you?”
He laughed again, squeezing my arms in an intimate gesture that dropped my stomach from its usual position into freefall. “No, no one is waiting for me. Not a girlfriend, or a dog or goldfish. It’s not the life for it, is it? What about you, Sunny? Husband? Boyfriend? Girlfriend?” His breath brushed my cheek as he spoke.
Goosebumps erupted over my body. I gave a little shiver as he returned to his massage. One arm slid around my waist, snagging me back against his chest as he worked the stubborn knots at the crook of my neck.
I sucked in a breath and he stopped. “No, don’t stop,” I whispered. “It’s just—that’s been bothering me for a bit.”
It felt wrong to ask a man who had obviously stalked me in an effort to get me to work for him, but while he was here...well. I wasn’t above using him to get what I needed. Not when it involved those hands that had proved so very useful and a pain threshold that demanded I did something about it before I ended up with a migraine.
“Boyfriend?” Hawk prompted, his fingers splayed across my stomach.
“No boyfriend,” I managed.
Jolts of pleasure assailed my skin wherever we touched, reminding me all too well of my lucid dreams starring him. His then phantom touch brought me orgasm after orgasm, and his contact now muddled in with the memory until a small and horrifying moan slipped past my lips.
Hawk froze, pinning me tight against him. Heat from his body permeated against my skin through the sheer material of my top. For the first time in a week I missed my leather jacket.
“Coops, if you’re going to make noises like that then I won’t be able to continue trying to seduce you into my bed.”
“And I thought you were here to offer me a job,” I shot back, then wished I hadn't. That made it sound as though he’d asked me to whore myself out, and I’d agreed with my wanton little moan. I tugged at the hand locked around my waist. “You should stop.”
He drew me closer into him until I could feel the ridges of muscle hidden beneath his shirt, his arousal fitted too well against my ass. “I never stop until I get what I want.”
“Have we established what you want?” I asked, my heart pounding traitorously in my chest.
His lips grazed my ear as he stopped the massage to trail his fingertips along my arm. More goosebumps erupted in their wake. “Wasn’t I clear, Coops? I want you.” His trailing hand drew across my stomach to resume its journey between my breasts. He circled my throat with his fingers, leaving plenty of room for me to swallow against his palm, and eased my head back onto his shoulder.
All breath ceased as Hawk’s amber gaze held me captive. Calluses grazed my skin as his palm trailed across my stomach, then headed lower to cup my denim-covered mound. I wriggled against him but the hand clasped around my throat flexed. Not enough to threaten, or steal the air I wasn’t breathing anyway. Just enough to remind me to stay still for him. So I did. Right up until he ground the heel of his hand against my clit, the seam working for him and against me as fireworks exploded behind my eyes.
Then I couldn’t help the way my body rocked against his harder one, working us both into a panting frenzy. Hawk’s mouth hovered over mine, the faintest whisper of a stolen breath paused between us.
“Yes, you’re clear,” I gasped, unable to concentrate. Unable to focus on anything except the waves of pleasure rolling through me. But that movement jerked my body, brushing my lips against his mouth.
The hint of a smile graced those perfectly arched lips before they descended over mine.
And I discovered KC Hawking could kiss like a god.