Chapter 17
SEVENTEEN
I’m the second person in the press room, a first for me, and clearly Courtney notices. “Roman! Look at you, here as early as can be!”
“Trying to do my part, Court,” I say with a winning smile before scanning the room, looking for the real reason I came here early: to steal just a few extra moments with Lana.
There’s a good shot she’s planning to ignore me again, but I’m done waiting for her.
I grin when I spot the paper placecard on the table, noting we’re seated next to each other once again, and take my seat.
Next, I scoot her chair just a few inches closer to mine.
It’s not enough to look intentional, but if I spread my legs, as I’m prone to do, my leg will brush hers.
I’m sitting back as she steps into the room, another oversized tee hiding her curves, with tiny shorts peeking out beneath it, showing off her legs.
“Hey, heartbreaker,” I say as she walks to the table, squinting at the seating arrangement.
“Did you do this? Move our seats?” I shake my head.
“No, no. I think the Court wants the team’s biggest stars front and center.” A blush burns over her cheeks as she sets her drink on the table, then sits beside me.
“I wouldn’t go as far as to say we’re the biggest stars,” she says.
“I would. You killed it out there, Lana.” A knowing grin slides across her face then, and I realize I fell for her setup hook, line, and sinker.
Possibly in more ways than one.
“Oh, I know I’m a star. You’re the one I’m unsure of.
” A loud laugh leaves my lips, my head tipping back to the ceiling, my hand moving to my chest. I get like this with her—free of expectations, light and airy, as if for one moment in time, the pressure on me lifts.
When I settle, she’s watching me, face soft and gentle, and something in my chest shifts.
“What’s that look for?” I ask.
“I don’t know if I’ve ever seen you look genuinely happy like that. It’s a good look on you.” It’s strange and different to be perceived by someone, and I don’t know if I like it.
I sift through the feelings, trying to decide how to respond, but before I can, the rest of the drivers come in the room with reporters following in their wake. It changes the vibe, and the moment is gone as they settle in.
When the press conference is underway, we get all the normal questions about the race, expectations, and shortcomings. But after a few minutes, a woman stands and looks directly at Lana.
“Lana, it’s become clear that you’re changing the way people see Monster Smash and encouraging girls and women to come out and support you—how do you feel about that?
” Lana lets out a small, uncomfortable laugh, and I reach under the table and set my hand on her thigh.
Not because I intend to do anything, though her warm skin beneath my hand does give me a few ideas, but because I want to remind her I’m here.
I know she isn’t used to the spotlight, and this new revelation of hers has been an emotional rollercoaster.
When she sets her hand on top of mine, then laces our fingers together and squeezes, I know it was the right choice.
“I don’t know,” she says nervously. “It’s all very new for me.
I do know when I was little, being raised by a single dad with two older brothers, I would have loved to have someone to show me it’s okay to like pink, frills, and unicorns, and still roll around in the dirt.
That girls can be just as badass as boys, that we deserve to be out here just as much as anyone else. ”
There’s a scoff from the other end of the table, where Jordan is sitting, rolling his eyes as he sits back, arms crossed over his chest.
“Ignore him,” Lana whispers, so low the mics won’t pick it up. “I am. He’s not worth it.”
And for the first time in a long time, I hate the boundaries I have to stay within. If I didn’t, I’d call Jordan out and probably punch him in the face for putting that strange blank look on her face, a mask hiding the disappointment and hurt.
Even more, I hate that she feels that she’s not worth speaking up for.
“You’re relatively new to this circuit but are steadily rising in the standings. Do you have any goals for your first season?” the reporter asks, thankfully pulling my focus. Lana grins, and I know she’s going to say something bratty.
“I’d really like to kick Roman’s ass,” she says, and the room erupts in laughter. No one uses my full name, not really, partially because I’ve threatened anyone who did, but there’s something about Lana doing so that makes me fucking love my full name. I squeeze her thigh, shifting it up a bit.
God, I think this woman was made for me.
“What do you think about that, Rome?” the reporter asks, and I put my free hand to my chest.
“I’d be honored to have Lana kick my ass,” I say.
There’s a chuckle from around the room, and the reporter smiles before looking at Lana.
“Joking aside, I think having her here has been great. It’s given us some new competition; it’s a breath of fresh air.
We’ve all been in this game for a long time and gotten used to the way things have always been.
It’s nice to have someone new, someone with different ideas for what this sport could be.
” Courtney gives me a big thumbs up from the back of the room, nodding enthusiastically.
She’s aware of my goal to get back into good standing with Indy, and she probably thinks that’s my intention, though every word was the truth. Lana’s been great for the circuit.
And she’s been great for me, though that’s a whole other story.
Needing the distraction, I allow my hand to move, then graze it up and down the bare skin of her thigh. A shiver passes through her, but she doesn’t stop me.
She also doesn’t stop me when I tilt my hand inward as a reporter asks Tyler a question, and not when I slide it up, letting the tip of my pinky finger glide along the edge of her shorts.
Her breath hitches, but her eyes stay locked straight ahead, her smile soft and serene as if she’s genuinely paying attention to my former friend.
A strange sense of jealousy surges through me, making me want to push her, claim her, steal her focus.
My hand shifts again, pressing that same pinky finger up a bit higher, against the center seam of her skin-tight shorts. Her legs tense beneath my hand, but that’s the only reaction I get.
That is, until I go up, then back down again. Then, her hand stops my second retreat, pressing my fingers against her. Her shorts are thin so that I can feel the faint tightening of her pussy beneath them.
Fuck. This woman is so fucking dangerous.
I flick my eyes to her and catch the tiniest hint of a smirk on her lips, but it fades when I shift my fingers, brushing harder against the center of her shorts.
I expect her to give in, to let me win this round. But as always, she surprises me, spreading her legs a bit further and using her hands to make me cup her, and I have to bite back a groan. A pleased smile spreads across her face, but her eyes stay straight ahead.
The woman is made of steel.
Before I can see just how far we can take this, Courtney thanks the reporters and dismisses us.
My hand retreats from Lana’s lap reluctantly, and my chair screeches as I quickly push it back.
Lana does the same, and we all stand and make our way to the greenroom.
I watch Lana intently as she avoids me, moving through as if nothing happened, smiling and waving as she grabs her things.
But right as she heads for the door, she looks over her shoulder, locks her eyes to mine, and lifts a single eyebrow.
My cock hardens, and I make my way out the door myself, not bothering to say goodbye to anyone.
She’s already halfway down the hall, though I reach her in a few strides, taking note of a door to her right.
Wrapping my hand around her wrist, I tug, pulling her toward it, grateful when it opens to reveal an empty room.
Tugging her inside, I slam the door and lock it before pinning her against the wall.
It’s some kind of storage closet, with toilet paper, soap, and paper towels lining shelves.
All I can focus on is the woman right before me, her eyes sultry and heated, her tongue dipping out to wet her lips.
That’s it.
That’s all it takes for me to groan, give in, and kiss her. She gasps when I do, opening her mouth as my lips press to hers. I take full advantage of it, sliding my tongue inside, desperate to get another taste of her.
Just as fucking perfect as last time.
Her hands tighten on my shirt, and my hands move to her hips to hold her against me.
Her body is warm and soft against mine, and I use my hips to press her into the door, to get her body as close as humanly possible to mine.
I don’t want a single inch of space between Lana Carson and myself.
It’s bad enough that there are already layers of clothes between us.
I think she feels the same when her hands slide up my chest, looping around my neck and pulling me closer, kissing me deeper.
Her teeth nip at my lower lip, battling to control this kiss, this moment, but I don’t allow it.
Instead, my hands grip her hips, lifting and shifting my body until my thigh settles between her legs.
“Oh my god,” she sighs, her eyes drifting shut, and I groan when her hips shift, grinding against me as my lips move down her jaw. Her hands move to my shoulders, trying to find purchase, nails digging as she does it again, pressing against my painfully hard cock as she does.
“Are you done ignoring me?” I ask, my voice a raspy low, my breathing heavy over her neck as her hips work my thigh. Each shift makes my cock grow harder.
“I was never ignoring you,” she lies.
“Sure, you weren’t,” I laugh, angling her so she can better grind against me, to give her the friction she needs.