Crossing the Line (Hard Driving) (8 page)

Ty nodded, but he wasn’t really listening. He was tired of being careful. The silence, the pretending . . . he needed an outlet for all his pent-up frustration.

Saturday couldn’t come quickly enough.

Cori hovered nervously near her front window, staring out at the gathering dusk and watching for Ty’s car. She’d spent the week torn between hoping the date went well and hoping that he would never want to see her again when it was over.

Either way, she was pretty much fucked, which was a sign of how crazy she must’ve been to have agreed to this. Crazy about him, anyway. Ten minutes in his company and she wanted him like she’d never wanted a man before.

I’d really like to kiss you.

He’d said that, on the phone, and she’d thought about it constantly ever since. She’d tried not to, but once she’d convinced herself that it was just a kiss, and nothing more, she hadn’t been able to stop.

She’d gone back and looked at photos of him, stared at his lips, and thought about what it would be like. She’d put her hand on her own knee, trying to recreate his touch, and then rolled her eyes at herself when she realized she was fondling her own knee.

But she hadn’t stopped thinking about kissing him. Would it be tentative and sweet? Or hot from the get-go, all intense lips and sliding tongues?

A car pulled up in front of the house.

Holy crap he’s here!

Cori yanked herself out of her kissing daydream when Ty got out of the car, and she flew away from the window, running all the way to the kitchen so that he wouldn’t see her spying on him.

You. Are a freak.

The doorbell rang and she jumped.

And need to get a grip.

Smoothing a hand over her hair, she made herself walk slowly back to the door. She took a deep breath and turned the handle . . .

“Ty.” His name came out on a
whoosh
of air. He looked
so
good, wearing a T-shirt under a dark jacket with jeans that hugged those muscular thighs . . .

When they did finally kiss—please, God, she wanted to kiss him—she wanted to rub her legs up and down those thighs.

Except that might be a little forward for a first kiss. Maybe the second one?

No no no. No thigh rubbing. And definitely no sex! Kissing. Only.

She tried not to stare at his lips.

Failed.

“Cori. Hey. It’s good to see you again.”

He was still standing on the doorstep, and after a moment of staring at each other in silence, he shifted awkwardly.

“Oh! Right. Uh, come on in.” She stepped back and gestured for him to come inside.

As he stepped over the threshold, his jacket brushed her arm and she shivered. Would it be too forward to ask him to kiss her right away? They’d talked about it on the phone, for goodness’ sake! She’d imagined every possible approach, every direction that kiss could go in, and even though things were a bit stilted right now, now that she was so close to him and could see those sexy, full lips and the smoothness of his shaven jaw, it was the only thing she wanted.

Except that she was just standing there like a wooden doll, frozen by her own desire.

“Hey.” He reached out his hand and cupped her cheek, and every part of her body thrilled. “Is this too weird? We can always go out for a walk, or something, if it makes you feel less nervous.”

He was touching her. His fingers were on her cheek. Warm skin, caressing—

She didn’t even think before she did it. Just leaned forward and pressed her lips to his.

* * *

Hot damn.

From the way Cori had answered the door, looking more than a little tightly wound, Ty hadn’t expected her to do something like that.

But he wasn’t protesting.

It was as good as he’d imagined. Better, even. He pulled her flush against him and she came without hesitation, as though she’d lost her anxiety as soon as her mouth had met his. That gorgeous, lush mouth . . . he licked a path over her bottom lip.

She moaned and opened for him, and he felt his blood going southward, pushing his body forward, his hand running down her back, wanting to feel more of her against him. More. Harder.

He tore his mouth away. “Cori.” He had to stop, or they were probably going to end up naked in another minute, and as much as he would enjoy it—he was sure of it—that wasn’t really why he was here.

He liked her. Or at least, he wanted to find out if he did.

He gently released her and took half a step back, grinning. “Well, that’s definitely the best welcome I’ve ever received.”

She blushed and moved completely out of his embrace, and it took everything he had not to reach for her again. “God. Ty. I’m so sorry. I just, uh, I don’t know what came over me.”

“I do.” He winked and her blush deepened. “I haven’t stopped thinking about that since the hotel in Phoenix,” he whispered. But she still looked a little discomfited, like she was ashamed of herself for going after what she wanted. He wanted to tell her, no, that he
needed
her to be bold, strong, and fearless—everything he was prevented from being right now by his father’s fear.

But he wasn’t here to make demands. He was here because he wanted to talk to her. So he simply moved his gaze away, trying to give her time to recover and hopefully relax things a bit. He couldn’t keep the smile off his face, though. Because he might want to talk to her, but the lust he felt for her, too . . . well, it wasn’t exactly a bad thing. She wanted him, and she was passionate about wanting him, and she didn’t seem to realize that the fast, hot kiss had pushed all of his buttons. He might be easygoing in the public eye, but he was a race car driver, after all. He liked it fast and intense.

The way she’d kissed him . . . it had turned him on like he’d never been before.

Hell. He needed to cool down.

He took his time looking around the house, as much for his sake now as for hers. It was small but uncluttered, and everything was decorated in light colors and clean lines. There were photos on the mantel above a small fireplace, one of them of her in a graduation gown, an older woman and man flanking her. It was hard to make out the details from where he stood, but he assumed they were her parents.

She’d alluded to it last time, that she’d had trouble with them when she’d decided to go into journalism over med school, but it seemed from the photo at least that her decision hadn’t completely ruined their relationship.

Maybe . . . maybe he could push back on Dad a little more. Maybe fighting wouldn’t be as bad as he thought. But then he pictured Dad’s face, the last time he’d suggested they make a clean breast of it in public, and he didn’t think his father would survive it.

This sucked.

Don’t bring your anger here. Don’t let secrets ruin something good before it starts.

He took a moment to get ahold of himself and, after a little more time, turned back to Cori. “This is a great place. You made it look real nice. And something smells amazing.”

“Thanks.” She looked a little steadier now. That confidence he’d seen in her the first day, when she’d jumped and shouted to get his attention during the post-race conference, had returned.

That’s my girl.

The thought surprised him. His girl? He barely knew her.

Except he’d kissed her. She’d written about him with more understanding than people who had known him for ten years instead of just ten minutes.

His girl.

He grinned, and she smiled back.

“I’ve only lived here for a few months, but I don’t like living out of boxes. I was unpacked and had most of it painted and furnished within the first week of moving in.”

He gave her a nod of admiration. “That’s impressive. I think I still have boxes in my attic and I’ve been living there for three years.”

She dipped her head. “I’m sure my place is nothing compared to yours, though. I mean, it’s pretty tiny.”

She looked so gorgeous, and he could still feel her lips on his, even though they weren’t even standing that close right now, that he couldn’t help himself. He
had
to touch her. He reached out a hand and gently stroked down her arm, feeling her shiver in response.

But a moment later, she drew her arm back, looking nervous, and asked in a too-high chirpy tone, “Are you hungry? Dinner is ready.”

Right. He dropped his hand and willed his desire to calm. He’d gotten amped up so hard, so fast, that he’d lost track of how intense he could be sometimes. But damn it, he felt like he was having to pull back everywhere.
Keep quiet, keep calm, don’t fight for anything . . .

Now was not the time to
fight
for Cori, though. Definitely not what he was going for.

He blew out a shaky breath and nodded. “Yeah. I’d love to eat.”
Maybe I’ll start by chewing a bowl of ice to cool down
.

She led him into the kitchen and brought him a glass of wine, shooing him away when he tried to help her serve. He backed off, knowing it was probably wise to keep a little distance between them for a bit.

They chatted about simple things—his flight up, the weather, whether he’d ever been to Norfolk before—and after a few minutes they were both seated at her cozy café table, looking at each other over their wine glasses.

“To Media Day,” he offered, earning a grin from her.

“Media Day,” she echoed as they clinked glasses, each taking a sip before setting them down and starting to eat.

She’d made something called masala, and the smell of the spices alone was making his mouth water. He took a bite and made a sound of appreciation. It tasted even better than it smelled. “So, did you learn to cook from your parents?”

She laughed. “Actually, no. Neither of my parents is particularly skilled in the kitchen. I mostly taught myself and took a couple of cooking classes with friends when I was in college. This dish, though—there was a guy in the class ahead of me who I dated for a few months. He was from Bangalore and a way better cook than I’ll ever be. But I managed to learn a thing or two.”

Ty felt a sharp jab of jealousy, but pushed it down. He had no reason to be jealous. Especially not of a guy who obviously hadn’t lasted in Cori’s life. He wanted to growl, though, and pull her close in an attempt to defend his territory—his girl—against even the memory of another man.

Yes! Fight! Fight for something!
His body was clamoring for it, but instead, he forced a smile. “I’d say more than a thing or two. It’s really tasty.”

Tasty? Why not just tell her it was nummy nummy in your tummy and then you can show yourself out?

What the hell was up with him today? He nearly started talking about the weather again, just to get away from whatever weird cycle of aggressive thoughts was going on in his head, but she must have seen it come through somehow by a look on his face, because she put down her fork and reached for his hand. “Hey. You okay?”

It was that feeling again—he knew he hadn’t imagined it—that she could see right into him. Not through him, but deep inside his soul. And suddenly, he didn’t want to put on a show for her and pretend that everything was fine. Not like he did for the rest of the world. He wanted to be able to tell
someone
the truth about what he was feeling.

He turned his hand, palm up, and grabbed her fingers.

“I’m sorry. It’s just plain old-fashioned jealousy.” He huffed out a laugh.

Her hand jerked in his and her jaw dropped. “
You’re
jealous of some guy I had a really casual relationship with a few years ago? But-But you’re
Ty Riggs
! A legend on the track in your own time
and
you’re practically a sex symbol.” Her eyes were so wide it was almost comical.

“And you’re Cori Bellowes. The only reporter on the circuit who still seems to value reporting on the sport instead of trying to turn everything into tawdry gossip and insinuations.” He meant it, but he still kept his voice teasing. He wanted to reach across the table and yank her to him, to show her with his hands and mouth and body how much he appreciated her willingness to stand up for him.

But she dropped her gaze then and looked down at her plate, seeming to draw in on herself all of a sudden.

Damn. In his attempt to keep things from getting too serious, it probably looked like he hadn’t taken her seriously
enough
.

He frowned. “Hey. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make light of what you were saying. I’m not comfortable with people thinking of me like that, I guess.”

She raised her head again and smiled, but he could tell it was fake. It annoyed him, but then she squeezed his fingers and said, “No,
I’m
sorry. I shouldn’t have implied that being a famous, good-looking, accomplished race car driver excluded you from jealousy or want or any of those things.”

He screwed up his face. “Now I’m not sure whether you’re being serious.”

“I was being completely serious!” She looked indignant for a second, then burst out laughing, and after a second, he joined in.

“So, um . . . speaking of tawdry insinuations, how have you been holding up this week, with all the talk about how Gilroy might have been on to something?” She looked down at her plate for a second, then back up at him. “I mean, if you want to talk about it.”

She seemed uncomfortable. Did the idea of what he was dealing with bother her, or was there something else?

He stared at her intently. “This
is
off the record, right?”

She winced a little, but didn’t seem too offended by his question. “Yes. I promise. I won’t write about this.
Anything
that happens tonight will stay between you and me.”

Anything. Between you and me.

Damn if that didn’t get his brain thinking about the way she’d kissed him, and how responsive she was, and those hard nipples beneath her sweater earlier and—aw, damn, now his dick was getting hard and now was
not
the time to do anything about that. He was finally able to talk about this to someone, to show all the fight he had in him without causing a scene or making things worse for Dad, and he wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity.

Especially now that he had the reassurance he needed that this wouldn’t come out before he wanted it to . . .
if
he ever wanted it to.