Hard and Fast (25 page)

“Lift up a little,” he murmured.

“Lift what up?” she asked. Was she smothering him? That wasn’t a hot thought.

“Your tail.”

Never having had her backside referred to as her
tail
, Imogen found that rather oddly endearing. Not wanting to deprive the man of all his oxygen, she obeyed immediately.

But it became immediately clear that air circulation hadn’t been his concern when his finger slipped into her from behind and plucked her G spot. That yanked a loud moan from her. With his tongue on her and his finger stroking inside at such a sexy angle, she reached that place she always did with Ty, where she thought about nothing but their bodies and mutual pleasure. That place where just about nothing would be a bad idea, where she felt hot and desirable and wanted him, it,
everything
.

Rubbing her nipples, she dipped her head forward and bit her lip as tightness built inside her. She wasn’t going to be able to maintain the position very long without pitching forward onto him, but while she was still upright, she was going to enjoy it. When he sucked her clit, she did both, groaning with ecstasy and dropping her hands down onto the sleeping bag on either side of him, needing something to hold on to, to ground her.

He started moving his finger in and out, sliding her own slickness all along between her cheeks, back and forth, the sensation erotic and exciting. Then his finger slipped inside her again, but with a whole different destination. Imogen sucked in a breath and looked down at him.

“Are you . . . ?” She couldn’t say it, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. It felt good. Better than good. His finger there, and his tongue inside her . . . she was shocked, titillated, stunned at how it heightened the pleasure of what he was doing with his mouth.

He paused to ask, “Should I stop?” His breath tickled the hair above her clitoris.

She shook her head, speechless, then realized he couldn’t see her. “Uh-uh,” she managed.

Ty wiggled his finger at the same time his tongue went deep.

Imogen squeezed the sleeping bag and shot into an orgasm, the hard, shuddering, tight kind where she did hold her breath, and her vision went spotty. Where every muscle in her body tightened while she let the tremors rush over her and take her under.

After a minute, Ty slowly pulled back his finger and mouth and said, “Breathe, babe.”

Instead, she exhaled, and tilted sideways, falling onto the sleeping bag in a heap. Then she dragged in air, shoving her hair out of her eyes, her heart racing and legs shaking. “Wow. This is the perfect time to use that catchphrase OMFG.”

“What does that stand for?” Ty shifted so he was facing her, and ran his fingers down her arm.

“Oh, my fucking God. Totally blasphemous, but when you use the acronym, it softens the blow.” She stared at the ceiling of the tent and tried to remember her name. “And in this case, utterly applies.”

Ty laughed softly. “Good. Now on your stomach.”

“I can’t move.”

“Yes, you can.” He lightly smacked her bottom and said, “Roll over. Lie flat, and cross your ankles.”

“Excuse me?” But she was already doing it, rolling in a lazy, satisfied flop onto her stomach and shifting her hands above her head. She could fall asleep at any given second.

Until he moved over her and pushed inside her.

Ty loved that first push into Imogen. She always made the same sound—a little gasp of appreciation—and that totally turned him on. As did the feel of her wet and willing body surrounding him. He couldn’t get enough of her. He loved touching her body, loved making her insensible, got off on the sight of her biting her lip, her eyes half-closed, the beauty of her when she snapped her head back and had a really hard orgasm.

Now looking down at her, her body relaxed, her dark hair spilling over her shoulders, her creamy pale skin smooth beneath his fingers as he held her and thrust into her, Ty felt something big and strong and shocking rise up in him. He wanted to pleasure her, worship her, care for her, protect her. Be the one who had those denim blue eyes trained on him while she had every orgasm. He wanted to be with her.

And instead of scaring the shit out of him, the thought had him thrusting harder, faster, groans sneaking out as he started to lose control. She had very obediently crossed her ankles, which kept him in position, and she raised her hips very slightly to meet him, a hot and heady subtle invitation. He suspected he was doing things with Imogen she hadn’t experienced with other men, and that only added to his own passion.

He would have never in a million years thought his sex life was in any way lacking, but his entire past paled to the satisfaction he got from burying himself in Imogen, and when she bit the tip of her index finger, he came inside her, a pulsing, hot orgasm that had him groaning loud enough to be heard back in Charlotte.

As soon as he could speak, he apologized. “Sorry, I’m sorry, I should have pulled out.” It was rude and insensitive at this point in their relationship to just go for it inside her, even if he was pretty certain nothing on planet Earth could have made him stop. The position, her body, the lack of a condom . . . he only had so much control and Imogen shattered it.

“Why? I told you I’m on the pill,” she said, her voice husky and muffled by the sleeping bag.

“Yeah, but most women aren’t thrilled with the aftereffects of this.” Ty started to pull out, but Imogen grabbed his hip.

“Don’t. Not yet. I like to feel you pulsing in me.”

Which was why he adored her. Ty stopped moving, wishing he could rest his weight on her, but knowing that would crush her.

“I want you to come in me,” she said. “And I want you to lie down on top of me now like you really want to do.”

“Really?” He ran his fingers across her back, raising goose bumps. He did want to do just that. “I shouldn’t.”

“‘The Lady doth protest too much, methinks,’ ” she murmured.

“Kenny Chesney?” he joked.

“
Hamlet
. Lie on me.”

“Okay. But I’m no lady.”

“That is the understatement of the year. You are all man.”

He liked the sound of that. Ty dropped his weight on her as gently as he could, and sighed at the feel of her warm skin beneath his. He kissed her hair and rested his head next to hers.

“I think I like camping after all,” she said.

Ty laughed. “Me, too.”

 

 

TY was in such a good mood, he didn’t even mind when he and Imogen emerged from their tent three hours later after a nap to find that raccoons had been having a party on the picnic table. Their lunch was torn into and scattered all around, most of it missing, but a few random bits of bread and fruit scraps were left behind. It even looked like one ambitious guy had gnawed on the plastic container the sandwiches had been in.

The one lone party animal left sat on the bench nibbling on a piece of cheese, staring at them with mild interest.

“Oh, my God!” Imogen said, grabbing on to Ty’s arm as she maneuvered behind him. “What is that?”

“It’s just a raccoon. They’ll eat anything and they aren’t afraid of people.”

“Obviously. What do we do?”

“Nothing. They’re mean as a snake and carry rabies. We’re going to ignore him and light a fire. Maybe that will send him scattering.”

“He doesn’t look mean.”

“Trust me, you try to take that cheese away from him, he’s going to spit and hiss.”

“Well, it’s not like I want the cheese back at this point, so why would I attempt to take it away from him?”

Ty laughed. Trust Imogen to point out the obvious and logical. “True. God, I can’t believe it’s dusk already. Guess it really is fall.”

He started building a fire with the wood he’d gathered earlier, content and still sleepy from their post-sex nap.

Imogen perched on a rock, giving wary glances at the raccoon every now and then. “There are only a few weeks left to the season, aren’t there? How do you feel about that?”

“Yep, only four races left. Not much time to make a difference. I’m in fifth place right now.” Which he should be stressing more about, frankly, but for some reason he wasn’t. Fifth didn’t suck, and he wasn’t feeling quite the competitiveness he had in previous seasons. It was a little unnerving, but at the same time, he suspected it was just that he was comfortable with his career. He had achieved a lot already and he worked damn hard. If it didn’t land him in the number-one spot, that was no reason to beat himself up. There were some damn good drivers and cars out there every week.

“Wow, that’s really impressive,” Imogen said, sounding like she actually meant it. “What does the overall winner for the season get?”

Ty surveyed his fire pile, satisfied. He glanced back at Imogen. “Fame and fortune, babe, plain and simple.” He turned full around, realizing she was shivering. “You cold?”

She nodded, her arms crossed across her chest.

“Go get your sweatshirt.”

“I didn’t bring one. I only brought this sweater I’m wearing. I thought it was sufficient and I was trying to pack light.”

“I knew there was a catch to that tiny backpack you brought. I’ll get the fire going and that will help, and the sleeping bag is plenty warm, especially with me there to heat you up.” Ty gave her a wink. “But in the meantime, grab my sweatshirt. It’s in my pack.”

“I don’t want to go through your bag.”

“Why not? I can’t imagine the sight of my underwear is going to upset you in any way.”

“Well, no. But it seems like a privacy violation.”

“I’ve got nothing to be private about.” Not in his bag anyway. Maybe he did have one tiny little thing that he kept from most people, but it wasn’t a big deal. And as much as he liked Imogen, he couldn’t foresee telling her he couldn’t read. She’d run for the hills and he just wasn’t ready for that yet.

“Okay. Thanks.” Imogen stood up and patted her front pocket. Ty knew she kept her phone in there when her purse wasn’t available and she did pull it out. “Wow, I just got a message. Who knew you could get cell reception out here? I wonder if I can check my e-mail?”

“No e-mail.” Ty frowned. “That’s just wrong.”

She nodded. “You’re right. But I should check to see who called. It might be my parents or something.”

“I can authorize that,” he said with a smile. Hell, he’d brought his cell, too, because Toni would have a heart attack if he didn’t. “Then put a sweatshirt on and come over here and share my body heat.”

Imogen didn’t say anything, and Ty glanced over to see her listening to her voice mail with a weird expression on her face. “What’s wrong?” he asked her when she hung up.

“Nothing.” She crammed the phone back in her pocket and looked around. “What was I doing?”

“Getting a sweatshirt,” he said carefully. He hesitated, thinking it was none of his business, but the red stain on her cheeks bothered him. “Who called you?”

She was inherently honest, to the point where he had heard her say something, then immediately confess it wasn’t the truth. He suspected she couldn’t lie to a straight question like his. He was right.

Biting her lip, she said, “Um. Evan Monroe.”

That had him pausing in the act of lighting his kindling with a lighter. “Evan Monroe? Why the hell is he calling you? I didn’t even know you knew him.” Well, of course she must have met Evan at some point given that Evan’s brother Elec was married to Tammy, and Ty had seen Imogen talking to Evan at the gym, but he wanted her to explain how she knew him.

“I met him at Tamara and Elec’s wedding, very briefly. Then again in the gym.” She pushed her glasses up. “He, well, has been pursuing me.”

Ty supposed it wasn’t anything he didn’t already know, but he didn’t like hearing it out loud. “What does that mean? He’s harassing you?”

“No, of course not. He’s merely asked me out to dinner, and this phone message was following up on that, offering specific time options.”

Then she said nothing else, bending over and riffling in his backpack.

Ty felt a wave of jealousy wash over him, but he took a deep breath and tried to stay calm. “Are you going to go? Do you like him?”

“I don’t know him well enough to determine one way or another if I like him. But no, I am not going to go out with him.” She pulled out a sweatshirt that had his car emblazoned across the front.

It always made him feel ridiculous to wear a shirt with his own car on it in his leisure time, but his mother had given it to him, which was sweet. So he put it to use for camping and hiking, where he wasn’t likely to encounter a ton of people. But for some reason, as Imogen pulled it on, he liked that sweatshirt a whole lot better than he ever had before. It swallowed her whole and she quickly cuffed the sleeves, and fussed with the hood, but seeing that car across her chest brought out those feelings again. Weird happy feelings, along with a healthy dose of possessiveness.

“So why aren’t you going out with him?” It was stupid to poke at her, especially given he might not like the answer, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself.

“I have altered the basis of my thesis. I was not finding it time effective, practical, or honest to pursue the dating rules myself. Instead, I’m focusing on interviewing both drivers and their wives about their courtship, whether or not stock car racing played a role in their meeting, and whether the path to marriage in any way resembled the rules laid out in the dating manual.”

“I like that better,” he said honestly. It had made him feel all sorts of unhappy to think that she was flirting with random men like Evan. Men he had to see at the track, who couldn’t be trusted to understand just how special Imogen was. They might just see her as a different pond to dip their toe in. Nothing more than a hookup.

Ty snapped a twig in his hand. Holy shit. He had been one of those guys. Sort of. Definitely not that crude about it, but he hadn’t expected that he would want a relationship with Imogen, and he did.