Talia tilted her head. “Pity. You strike me as someone who could use a little fun.”
Sloane smiled faintly. “You might be right.” But when Talia’s hand brushed hers, she didn’t move to take it. The wanting was there in an undeniable way, but it wasn’t for this. Not for Talia. Not tonight.
“Thanks for the drink,” she said softly. “Really.”
Talia read the tone, gave her a kind nod, and drifted back into the crowd.
Sloane watched the fish chandelier glint overhead, light rippling across the glass, and exhaled. Okay, so she wasn’t dead. Not yet. But apparently, she was alive in all the wrong directions.
Three hours later, as Sloane watched Reese unbutton her shirt one button at a time, revealing her blue satin bra, she knew she was exactly where she was supposed to be. She sat back on the bed, watching intently, the ache between her legs demandingattention. She throbbed. She was in need. And the show was almost too much, except it was perfection. This was everything she didn’t know she’d needed. When Reese had knocked quietly on the door, Sloane almost hadn’t let her in. It was late, and she’d had the martinis, and let’s be honest, she had no business getting entangled with the likes of Reese Maddox. Now, she was more than glad she’d opened that damned door. Reese pulled down the cups of her bra, allowing her breasts to spring free, and Sloane’s mouth watered. Before she had a chance to so much as touch, lick, or lavish them with attention, Reese was easing Sloane’s legs apart. She was wet, so wet, and Reese would see that. The idea only turned her on more. Her underwear was slid down her legs as Reese grinned, gorgeous and so fucking sure of herself. Her fingers moved between Sloane’s legs, featherlight and then with more assurance. It was so fucking satisfying that Sloane wanted more like she’d never wanted anything in her life. Her breath hitched as the pressure climbed and climbed, the friction undoing her.
“Hey,” Reese said in her ear.
“Yes?” she managed.
“Are you ready to be fucked?” Reese whispered as she stroked her with more authority, owning the moment, owning Sloane, the rhythm hypnotic, the yearning intense.
Sloane met her eyes and nodded.
“Okay, then.” Reese slid her fingers deep inside with unencumbered purpose. It was when she began to move inside Sloane that the world came undone. No sensation compared to this one, the need, the wonder, the fucking amazing feeling of Reese inside her, filling her fully, fucking her, taking her higher and higher with each thrust to places she hadn’t dared imagine she’d ever get to again.
But then it was dark.
The world disappeared, and Sloane found herself sitting upright in her hotel room, alone and on fire. She checked the clock. It read just after 3 a.m. “My God,” she murmured, shocked and affected by the dream in a manner she wasn’t sure how to handle. It had seemed so real, down to the throbbing that still lingered between her legs—throbbing for release. For the touch of one person. For Reese.
Sloane fell back against the pillow, eyes wide open now. She’d kept her distance all this time for good reason, but her subconscious clearly hadn’t gotten the memo. And as much as she tried to dismiss it, one truth pulsed beneath it all: Reese wasn’t just under her skin. She was in her head, and that was far more dangerous.
CHAPTER 8
ALL YOURS
“Are we taking bets on our winners today?” Veronica asked.
“Should we?” Sloane turned from her spot in front of the second-story window over the garage. It offered a gorgeous view of the circuit. The drivers had taken their individual walks around the track as Sloane looked on, wondering what the day of racing would bring. The air outside already smelled like breakfast sausage and fried dough as the vendors set up for a day of racing. Mechanics and pit crews shuffled about like busy bees below, prepping the cars, doing warm-ups and drills to prepare for the fastest pit stops possible. The F1 Grand Prix would take place later that afternoon, and this place would be overrun with enthusiastic race fans. The stands would bemostlyfilled for the Formula Next and F2 races, as the majority would want a full day of racing for the price of their ticket.
“Who do you have?” Sloane asked.
“Marissa’s going to take it all.” Veronica came to stand next to Sloane at the window. “That is, if her father will give her some room to breathe.”
“I don’t think that’s in his DNA.” Marissa Giovani was a bright light of talent, who Sloane had noticed dimmedconsiderably when the pressure from her father, who owned part of the team, came down. “But he’s definitely doing more harm than good. Marissa’s a good driver who needs more racing hours under her belt to grow. His presence makes her shrink instead.”
“Maybe she needs some extra cheerleading from the academy.”
“I was thinking the same thing.”
Veronica turned. “Speaking of growing, Maddox had a solid finish at P3 yesterday. Another podium. Do we have you to thank?”
Sloane laughed. “I don’t know. Reese is hard to reach. She’s not only a people pleaser, which allows her to be pulled in fifteen different directions, but she’s a hardheaded one.”
“Hardheaded? Wow.” Veronica shook her head. “I don’t know anyone like that. Nope. Not a soul.”
“Stop that. If you’re comparing me to Reese, you could not be more off base.” But she was smiling. Probably because the idea was ludicrous. Sloane was steady and methodical. Reese was chaos and fire.
Veronica crossed her arms. “I don’t know what it is, but the more I’m around her, the more I see glimpses of you ten years ago, before you got serious and took us all down.”
“Then maybe there’s hope for her yet.” She took a sip from her paper coffee cup. “Let’s see where she finishes today.”
Veronica turned her body to lean sideways against the railing. “If she makes podium again, we might have something interesting and very unexpected on our hands.”
