Flame (Fire on the Mountain #2) (13 page)

She nods, an inquisitive look in her eye. “Cool. I missed you guys the last two weeks.” Her gaze bounces over to where Gunner’s yakking up some guy we know from back home in Cali then returns to me. “Even if your cousin isn’t nearly as fun as he used to be, at least you still know how to have a good time.” Sidestepping so that she’s directly in front of me, she bats her fake eyelashes while dragging her nail down the center of my chest, all the way to my happy trail, stopping at the button of my shorts. “You already made
plans
tonight, babe?”

“Yeah,
babe
, I’m curious too. Do you already have plans tonight?” Dakota’s got a big-ass smile on her face, standing behind JoJo with her arms crossed in front of her chest, but I can see the rage simmering in her eyes.

You’ve got to be kidding me. I was gone for five fucking minutes. Fucker.

Her expressions don’t mince words, and without thinking, I push JoJo away from me, feeling guilty for doing absolutely nothing wrong. Reaching out, I wrap my fingers around the crease of Dakota’s elbow and haul her over next to me, placing my hand possessively at the small of her back.

“JoJo, this is my girl, Dakota. She’s gonna be on the road with me while she’s on summer break.” I don’t miss the dark-haired girl’s reactionary flinch when I say those two words I’ve been half-jokingly, half-seriously throwing around since Dakota got on the bus this morning.
My girl.

Of course, we aren’t in a lasting serious relationship, but as long as she’s in my bed, I’m not sharing her with anyone, and I wouldn’t expect her to share either. I asked her to be my guest on this trip, so she’s with me.
With me,
with me. Until she goes home. Mine.

Fucking caveman sighting.

JoJo recovers quickly, at least having enough wits about her to pretend to be nice in front of me, and lobs a forced smile over at Dakota. “Nice to meet you, Dakota. I look forward to seeing you around,” she shifts her gaze over at me and cocks a flirtatious eyebrow, “for a while.”

Spinning on her heel, she strolls off, purposely swaying her hips back and forth. I snicker at her ridiculous antics, but as soon as I shift my attention down to Dakota, with her furrowed brow and unamused expression, I stop laughing.

“That’s a track rat,” I announce, deciding now is a good time to answer her question from a half-hour ago.

“A track rat you fuck,” she shoots back matter-of-factly.

I don’t bother lying. I like this chick, but I’m not ashamed of who the hell I am. “A track rat I
used to
fuck,” I confirm, lifting my eyebrows to emphasize the past tense.

“What’s their deal?” Her eyes dart around the immediate area, taking in all the girls dressed in similar, over-the-top slutty clothes, who are here for one purpose and one purpose only—to sleep with a rider. “What’s the appeal? Why do they do it?”

“You’re looking at it, Sunshine,” I joke, holding my arms out to show her all of me, hoping she’ll let the JoJo thing go if I lighten the mood.

She rolls her eyes and shakes her head, but her mouth tips up in a little smile. “No, seriously. If you wanna give me this crash-course or whatever, let’s start with track rats. What’s their role? I need to know what I’m up against.”

Before answering, I drop my hands to her hips and yank her flush up against me, my body
demanding
to feel her close. Touching her ignites something inside me that feels a lot like being on a bike. Exhilarating and risky, yet also calming and totally in control.

“Track rats are to motocrossers what groupies are to bands,” I explain as I pepper kisses along her hairline. “When a rider gets off the track, whether he races like Gunner or does freestyle like me, he’s chock full of adrenaline and either wanting to celebrate his victory or forget his losses. Either way, sex is a good way to release all that pent-up energy. Track rats show up to the parks or arenas knowing exactly what they’re gonna get, and to them it’s just like sleeping with a celebrity, some kinda weird claim to fame I guess.”

Relaxing a bit in her stance, she slips her arms around my middle and rests her head against my chest, peering up at me. She appears so at ease talking about this, like the fact I’m talking about finding random chicks to fuck after shows doesn’t bother her in the least. It’s kind of bizarre.

“Do you use the same ones over and over, or new ones all the time? Is there like an emotional relationship at all?”

“I haven’t been with a rat in probably four or five months. I had a bad experience and swore them off, but there was never an emotional relationship involved other than being friendly acquaintances; at least, on my side there wasn’t. And yeah, I typically stuck with people I’d been with before. I’d rather be with someone I knew I was compatible with than to take the chance of a wildcard.” Did I just say that out loud? Why am I saying all of this to her?

Again, she looks unfazed, simply nodding as if she understands. “Look, I don’t give a fuck about what you’ve done in the past, or what you do after I’m gone. But while I’m here with you, if you wanna play this
mine
shit, it goes both ways. Don’t make me look stupid, Hulk.”

Damn, she’s sexy when she’s bossy too. She had to have felt my dick get hard, pressing against her stomach during her little rant.

I want nothing more than to pick your little ass up and march back to the bus, where I can show you what exactly I fuckin’ got, Sunshine.

Her eyes flash with mischief and she nods, subtly rubbing herself up and down my erection.
What’s stopping us?

Absolutely nothing. Picking her up by her waist, I swing her over my shoulder, her ass right next to my face, and make a beeline to the bus. Her throaty giggles feed the blood pumping through my cock when I swat her round cheeks.

Our clothes are gone before we even make it to my room, and after two rounds of hot, sweaty caveman sex, we pass out in each other’s arms. Exhausted. Sated. With a mutual understanding.

Mine.

Wow. That sounds scary as shit.

Three loud knocks on the door break through my deep slumber. Jerking up to sitting, my eyes dart around the room for a few seconds as I figure out where the fuck I am. Okay, my bed on the bus. Daylight peaking around the dark curtains indicates it’s at least after eight. The naked body next to me . . . oh, fuck me, look at her. Goddamn gorgeous sight to wake up to. I just want to suck those nipples into my mouth and roll my tongue around . . .

More banging on the door. “Levi, you have the track for practice from ten-thirty until eleven. It’s just after nine now, and you need to eat breakfast first,” Emmy Sue calls out through the thin wood. “This afternoon at four, you’ve got a radio show appearance here at the park with Gunner. Then, we’ll have Chinese delivered, so you guys can eat between that and the exhibition, which you need to be ready for at six-thirty.

I groan and fall back onto my pillow. Let the fun begin again.

“Is she always this damn cheerful in the mornings?” Dakota grumbles next to me, her morning-phone-sex voice causing my hard-on to twitch under the sheet.

“Yessss,” I hiss, rolling onto my side to face her, tucking her up close next to me. “It’s some weird disorder she has. I’m happy to see you don’t suffer as well.”

Nuzzling her face up into the side of my neck, she sighs sleepily and melts into me. It shouldn’t feel as good as it does. “Fuck no. I’d stay in bed forever if I could,” she whispers, wiggling her hips against me. “Just like this with you.”

As soon as those last five words fall from her lips, her entire body stiffens with regret. I know what she meant by the comment, but I also know the delivery of it made it sound like something else. To soothe her worries, I kiss the top of her head while trailing my fingertips down her back, around the curve of her hip, and down her ass
. Damn, she’s got a fine ass.

The few times in my life I’ve passed out and accidentally spent the night with a chick, it’s never been like this in the morning. I’m usually kicking them out or rushing to leave a hotel room myself before the awkwardness has a chance to set in. Sex is better without the awkward.

But the ease I feel right now with her is new to me. And I’m not usually big on new things. However . . . this
new
may be worth it.

Just fucking maybe.

TUESDAY, JUNE 19

I’M NOT SURE I’M SUPPOSED
to be up here. I mean no one specifically said, “Dakota, no climbing on top of the bus to sunbathe,” but I have a feeling it would be frowned upon for some kind of insurance bullshit thing. Oh well. Until they catch me, I’ve found a nice little spot where I can work on my tan and steal some alone time. The guys left after lunch to go ride at the nearby cliffs with some locals, and Emilia’s taking a nap, all the stress from the wedding having finally caught up with her, so I’ve got a little time before anyone’s wondering where I’m at.

The timer from my phone goes off, momentarily interrupting Jack Johnson’s intoxicating voice in my headphones, to remind me it’s time to turn over. As I flip over from my stomach to my back, careful to stay on the towel and not burn my ass on the scorching black roof, something catches my attention in the expansive field adjacent to the parking lot. A giant hot air balloon is being readied for takeoff.

Immediately, I’m captivated, twisting around so that I can see what’s going on more clearly. The brightness of the yellows and oranges swirled across the rich red background of the balloon warms me from the inside out. The couple waiting near the basket for the pilot’s instructions are holding each other tight, both slightly bouncing on the balls of their feet as the eagerness and anticipation blends with that teeny tiny bit of fear of the unknown and uncontrollable. A massive flame blazes to life and the couple jumps back slightly before inching closer to the basket, the entire rig nearly upright and ready to go now.

The pilot’s hand motions them inside the wicker rectangle, next to him, and as they scamper inside and lift off from the ground, my pulse picks up and my palms feel clammy. I’m excited and nervous for the strangers. I wonder if the guy is going to propose or make some incredibly dreamy declaration of his love while they’re floating alongside the white cottony tendrils brushed across the vivid azure sky. I sure hope he does. Hot air balloons are romantic.

For the next hour and a half, I soak up the hot summer rays, and when I eventually slip off the roof and back into the bus, it’s in the nick of time. As I step into the shower to wash the congealed sweat and sunscreen off my body, I hear the guys’ deep voices echoing through the bus, hooting and hollering about some sick-ass jump. Emilia was still asleep when I came back in a few minutes ago, but with all the racket they’re making out there, she’s got to be awake now.

Suddenly, despite the fact I
know
I locked the bathroom door, it clangs open and Levi steps inside, dirty, grimy, and hot as hell. He stares at my silhouette through the frosted glass for a second then adjusts his crotch. “You ready for some company in there?” he growls.

“Actually, I’m pretty sure I locked the door, which normally is a good indicator I don’t want anyone to come in,” I quip, unable to keep my smart mouth in check around him. I’m not even sure why I said it. We both know I want him to join me. I just don’t want him to know how much I want him to join me. If that makes any fucking sense at all.