SCORE (A Stepbrother Sports Romance)(95)
“Come on.” Summer smiled. “You can’t be worth that much.”
“I can.” I smiled back. “Why do you think I didn’t want to tell you much about me when we first met?”
“I thought it was a turn on,” she said, just as our mustachioed waiter arrived to take the order. He gave a subtle huff of distaste. I guessed, even though we were in Argentina, that he must really be French. To my surprise, Summer ordered both the soup and the steak, indicating that she was ravenous. I was racing in an hour, so I just ordered a green salad.
“It was one hell of a turn on,” I agreed when we were alone again, “but I didn’t want you to know about me unless you decided you really liked me, regardless of my money. Now that you’re here and you wouldn’t even let me buy your ticket, I know you do.”
“Hey, don’t go jumping the gun there, buddy.” She smiled again, teasing me, before dropping her voice to a low whisper. “I like your dick. I haven’t actually made up my mind about the rest of you yet.”
Goddamn, this girl made me hot. I could feel my cock stiffening. Unfortunately, in my leathers, there was nowhere for it to go.
“Good enough,” I replied. I could feel her foot working my leg again. How did she get her boot off without me noticing?
“So,” she continued as though nothing was going on under the table, “how much are you worth, then?”
“Me personally? Or my family?”
She thought for a moment. “You.”
“About two billion dollars, give or take.”
“Wow.” She kept her cool. “And your family?”
“About twenty times that.”
Summer
It was hard to keep a straight face as James told me how much money he really had. I had realized he was rich, but not that rich. Didn’t matter to me, of course. I’d feel the same about him if he worked in a fast food joint. It was just a little disarming. You hear about billionaires, but you don’t run in to them in the real world. They’re like an urban legend. I could see, though, why he didn’t like to let on to prospective hookups. There were hundreds of girls around any world-class sport who would get on their knees for a rich athlete. If any of them met an actual billionaire, they’d go nuts.
But it was so good to see him. On the plane, I hadn’t been able to eat or sleep because every second brought me nearer to him. And when I found him looking all cute and scruffy instead of his usual, polished fa?ade, I couldn’t have been happier. I felt an ache, a huge, surging longing in the deepest parts of me, and I had to fight really hard to stop myself from boning him right there.
So we had kissed instead. For the first time. We both knew it was right, and, boy, was it some kiss. His full lips felt like they were made for mine. The kiss was so good I almost swooned. I know girls in the twenty-first century didn’t swoon anymore, but I don’t know how else to describe it. I almost cursed the fact that we’d been missing out on that kind of kissing this whole time.
“Summer?” he said, and I could listen to him saying my name over and over again. “Not that I don’t appreciate what you’re trying to do under the table, but these leathers mean you may as well be trying to give a toe-job to a department store mannequin.”
“Damn things!” I smiled at him. “Take them off at once!”
He laughed deeply, loudly, and genuinely. I thought maybe this could work. This could lead to the happiest I’d ever been. Then my soup and his salad arrived, so I ceased my sub-table flirtation. As we settled into eating, he asked about my issues with racing, and gradually the story about my parents and my father’s death came out. I kept it together, but he looked horrified.
“So all this time you’ve been afraid to get hurt because you were convinced men always cheat? And you’ve only just found out that your dad never cheated at all?” He sounded like it was hard to swallow, and I couldn’t say I blamed him.
“That’s about the size of it,” I confirmed, straight-faced.
“And if racing hadn’t killed him, your whole outlook on life and relationships might have been different?”
“Yup,” I confirmed again. “And here’s the kicker…” I told James how his racing was going to remain a problem because of the chance he could get hurt. Despite what he said, I couldn’t help wanting him to stop, even if it made him resent me.
“I knew it would come to this eventually.” He sighed while I finished my steak, which was actually pretty good. “But I can’t deal with it now. I’m sorry.”
“I know.”
“I have to go,” he apologized. “Qualifying starts in ten minutes.”
He paid the bill, and we jumped on his dirt bike and buzzed back over to the pits. I couldn’t stop myself from trembling when he kissed me again, despite the dour direction our conversation had taken. He suited up and roared out onto the track. My heart was in my mouth and I couldn’t breathe. What if something happened to him? What if I was about to watch him die so soon after I’d decided I wanted to be with him? It was a lot to deal with.
Keith and Ray and their two assistants were so kind. They fell over themselves to make me feel welcome, getting me a chair, drinks, showing me where to watch from, and explaining how the whole process worked. The big screen that displayed the riders as they flew around the circuit didn’t show James very often. It concentrated on the fast boys instead of the also-rans, so we only saw him each time he rounded the last bend and blasted down the straightaway. I swear I’d never seen anything move so fast before he’d hit his brakes and slowed dramatically for turn one. As he circled, faster and faster, my fear began to fade. In its place came a feeling of pride. He looked so fluid and in control, so focused, just like when we made love. I started to get a little wet and began wishing this qualification thing was over, not so he wouldn’t get hurt but so he could fuck me.