Revved (Page 91)

With the thought of Carrick climbing into his car and going out on the track tomorrow night…I feel sick to my stomach.

Carrick knows that, since we got together, I worry about the races. He knows I’m worried about this one. He just doesn’t know the extent.

He doesn’t know about the panic attacks.

And I don’t want to talk to him in detail about them or my fears because there’s nothing he can do or say to make me feel better. The only way I would feel better was if he weren’t racing, and that’s never going to happen.

One, because he can’t stop. Racing is who he is. And two, I would never ask that of him and not just because I know what his answer would be.

Racing is what makes Carrick. It’s in the air he breathes, the blood that runs through his veins.

And even though I know all of this, I know this is who he is, it doesn’t abate my fears.

It’s bleeding into everything I do. I’m beyond meticulous with checking his car, so much more than I used to be. Where I was vigorous with the safety checks on his car before, now, I’m obsessive. I’m checking everything three or four times. So painstakingly thorough about it that Ben is starting to notice.

Every time Carrick pulls out onto the track, I don’t breathe until he’s come back in safely.

Is this how my mum felt all the time when my dad was racing?

All those years with him, sick with the worry that one race could be his last.

Until it finally was.

I rest my forehead against the cool glass, trying to still my racing thoughts.

“What are you doing, babe?”

The sound of Carrick’s rough sleepy voice catches me off guard, freezing my muscles in place.

Forcing myself to relax, I turn to him. “I couldn’t sleep.”

He closes the distance between us. Sliding his warm hands up my arms, he cups my shoulders. “You’re worried about tomorrow’s race?”

“A little.” So much I can barely breathe. I can’t look into his face, fearing that he’ll see the truth in my eyes.

Taking my face in his hands, he tilts my head back, making me look at him. “It’s gonna be fine.” He drives the point with a solid stare. “I’ve driven this circuit tons of times. I’m gonna be fine.” He presses his reassuring soft lips to mine.

I feel a swell of tears. Swallowing them back, I wrap my arms around his neck, holding him.

“I’m sorry I woke you,” I murmur against his mouth.

He pulls back. “You didn’t. The cold empty space in bed where you should be was what woke me. I don’t like reaching out and you not being there.”

“I’m sorry. Go back to bed. You need your rest for tomorrow. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“No, what I need is you.” His hands slide down my back. Lifting my slip with rough fingers, his palms cup my bare bottom as he takes my mouth again, firmer this time.

I know what he wants. I want it, too. I always want him. More so lately with a desperation, fearing that each time I do have him might be the last.

Carrick’s body presses mine against the glass. As the kiss deepens, I feel his erection against my stomach, sending lightning bolts of desire shooting through me.

Breaking from my mouth, he pulls my slip off my body. Pressing me back up against the glass, it’s cold and unforgiving against my skin. He brushes his thumb over my nipple, making me gasp into his mouth.

After kissing his way down my jaw, my neck, and my chest, he presses a kiss to each breast before lowering to his knees. Staring up at me in the dark, he slides his hand under my thigh. Lifting it, he places it on his shoulder. Parting me with his fingers, he presses his mouth to me.

My fingers sink into his hair on a gasp as his hot tongue laps at me. I look down at him, his head between my legs pleasuring me, my hips rocking against his mouth.

I love him. So much it hurts. And I can’t tell him. Because if I do, it makes it real, and if I lose him…

It’s all becoming too much to bear.

I close my eyes against the fear and love and confusion, and I focus on the way he’s making me feel right now. The escape to heaven he’s offering me.

Then, his tongue touches me in just the right way, and I shatter around his mouth.

Wordlessly, he gets to his feet. My fingers pull on the drawstring on his pajama pants. I push them down his hips, letting them drop to the floor.

He steps out of them, kicking them aside. Lifting my leg, he hooks it over his hip. Then, dipping his hips slightly, he thrusts up inside me.

“Carrick…” I moan, my hands gripping his upper arms as my head falls back against the glass.

Eyes on me, he kisses me, almost desperately, tangling his tongue with mine, as he takes me there, up against the glass where anyone could see us.

The sex is intense and deep…so very deep. We don’t speak. In the dark surrounding us, the only sound is our ragged breaths.

I’m shaking by the time I reach my second orgasm, my body tightening firmly around his.

Then, my name is growling from his lips as he pumps into me, filling me with all he has.

He rests his forehead to mine, panting, his breath touching and mixing with my own. “There isn’t a single moment in my future where I don’t see you in it.” His words are whispered, his fingers threading into my hair.

I’m choked by emotion, unable to speak.

And if I could speak, what would I say? Don’t bank your life with me. Yes, I want that, too, but I don’t see it like you do. I fight for it daily, but ultimately, I don’t know if I’m strong enough to stay.

I can’t.