Smokin' & Spinnin' (39 page)

I am gloriously sleeping when an intoxicating smell overtakes my senses. Without opening my eyes, I know it’s Ryan. I feel him slide my laptop out from under me.

I open my eyes sleepily. “What time is it?”

“It’s late. It took a little longer than I expected.”

What took longer than expected?

“I’m sorry. I brought you some food, though.”

“I’m too tired to eat,” I moan. I can hear Ryan emptying his pockets and the sound of his clothes coming off. He slides into the bed and wraps his body around mine, spooning me. It’s heavenly. He nuzzles my neck and hair, and that is all I need to push me back into sleeping bliss, regardless of where he’s been or what he has been doing.

I awake for the second time, and the room is dark with a small hint of light coming from under the now-drawn curtain. When did those get closed? I wonder. I lie still as I wake up. I don’t want to bother Ryan. I turn my head slowly to find that he is already wide-awake, staring at the ceiling.

Ryan turns his head slowly to face me. He smiles, but I can tell something is wrong. A wave of nausea creeps over my body.
What the hell is going on with him?

He notices my concern. “Whitney, are you okay?”

I roll my eyes. “I should be asking you that question.”

He turns his face away from mine and fixes his gaze back on the ceiling. Since we left the track yesterday, Ryan has been radiating several emotions that I don’t understand. I am confused and worried.

Without looking at me, Ryan says, “I need you to arrange a press conference on Sunday, a short one for me to thank fans, sponsors, et cetera. Let the media know, also, I don’t want to be interviewed before or after the race. Got it?” His tone is rude, clipped, and makes my skin crawl. It reminds me of how he treated me when I first started working for GCR.

“Sure,” I say quietly. “You don’t have to do this, you know. I can see how stressed and tense you are. It makes me nervous.”

Ryan doesn’t offer a response. His silence and disregard tick me off. I sit up in the bed sharply. My gesture takes him by surprise, and he mirrors my movement.

“Ryan, for God’s sake!” I plead. “What is going on? I know you are under immense pressure, not to mention still grieving the loss of your father, which carries a myriad of emotions in itself, but, please help me understand what you’re feeling or something! I can’t stand it when you are like this!” I shout breathlessly.

Ryan falls back on the bed and covers his eyes with his arm, still silent. I want to scream at him! I cannot stand the silence. I lean over Ryan and pull his arm from his face with quick force. It takes him by surprise.

“Whitney!” he gasps.

I look angrily into his eyes, with tension radiating off my face and a huge lump in my throat. “Is it me?”

Ryan gives me his best “don’t be stupid” look, and the tension evaporates from my body before he can say a word.

“Fine!” I say in my best pouty teenager voice. Then I quickly devise a plan. Ryan is still staring up at the ceiling. I slowly pull the down duvet
back from his body and move in close to him. He notices my movements from the corner of his eye, but doesn’t look at me or say a word.

I lift my body over his and place my knees on the bed on either side of his body. I am straddling him. This gesture gets his attention.

“Whitney! What the hell? Your leg!”

I place my hand over his mouth. “Oh no, you don’t want to talk remember?” I say sarcastically. He gives me a funny look. Before he can speak, I peel off my pajama top. “If you don’t want to talk, I know of several other things we can do!”

With that, Ryan sits up in the bed and grabs me with a cosmic force. His fierce and sudden contact takes my breath away. His lips are on mine, possessing me. I cry out with surprise. He pulls me down on top of him, but his lips never leave mine. His hands are in my hair, grabbing and pulling. This may not have been a good idea after all. It feels like he is taking out some unknown aggression on me.

Ryan runs his arm around my waist, and in one swift move, he flips me over to my back. He is on top of me now.
Oh my God
! This is so intense. Ryan stares me down with a look of desperation or anxiety; I’m not sure which emotion it is. He peels off my pajama bottoms and my panties with one quick motion. I cry out again, this time with desire, as he takes control over me.

Ryan continues his dark stare into my eyes while he plunges inside me. I cry out from the sudden fullness. It’s heavenly. Ryan’s body moves, and together we pick up the rhythm that only our bodies know. He is focused and forceful, not taking any pity on me or my body.

It takes only a few moments before I start to feel my body building in response to his. I don’t want to stop it, but I couldn’t even if I tried.
My body reaches its peak, and I shatter into pieces. Ryan rams his body into mine and quickly stills, calling my name. I am almost dizzy. I can’t believe that just happened, and so fast.

Ryan collapses on top of me, but quickly rolls over, pulling me on top of his chest. I lay out across him, sweaty, with my limbs feeling like Jell-O.
Holy hell!

“I’m sorry,” Ryan mutters. And I giggle.

“I guess my plan backfired on me.”

He pulls my chin to his face and smiles. “Yes, it did!”

Ryan shakes his head. “I’m sorry, but I just have a lot on my mind, you know.”

“Yes, I know you do. But please don’t shut me out. It drives me insane.” He nods his head as if he understands. “Where did you go last night?” I finally ask him.

“I…I…” he stammers. “I just needed some time. I wanted to get some air to try to clear my mind, but that didn’t work.”

For some reason, I still believe he is lying to me. I try to shake it off. I feel like I’m fighting a losing battle. I slide off Ryan’s chest and move to the other side of the bed. I lay silent for a moment, then decide to leave the bed altogether.

“Where are you going now?” Ryan asks.

“Shower,” is all I can manage as I disappear into the bathroom. Two can play at this game.

Chapter 43

I
shower quickly. I know we have to get to the track for practice. Ryan needs it. I focus on getting myself ready and not whatever is bothering Ryan. I pull on my favorite jeans, #62 polo shirt, and my matching Asics tennis shoe. Then, I strap on my walking boot. My hair looks like hell, and I don’t even attempt to brush it. I throw on some basic makeup and pull my curly brown locks through my GCR Racing hat, thankful that we don’t have any PR or sponsor events today. I can dress down. I check my look in the mirror.
Done. Let’s do this.

I walk back into the bedroom area. Ryan is sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for me to come out. “We need to go, Whit,” he says as he rolls his eyes at me.

I smile sweetly and say sarcastically, “I’m ready!”

He waltzes into the bathroom and slams the door.
Seriously! What is his deal?

We arrive at the track after forty-five minutes of virtual weirdness, although he does hold my hand in the car. So, that does reassure me some. I hang out in the hauler and work on my laptop while he practices. I schedule the press conference, as Ryan requested, and have
sent out a blanket e-mail to all media outlets. I want everything to run smoothly for him tomorrow since tensions are so high.

I take a break from my work in the hauler to watch a few of Ryan’s practice laps. The car looks great. By watching him bring the car effortlessly through the corners, I can tell he has found his groove. It is a huge relief. I hope this changes Ryan’s mood.

I am finishing up a series of e-mails to sponsors about upcoming races when I am accosted from behind. Two strong arms wrap around my body, and I am overwhelmed by that scent. The scent of my man.

Ryan nuzzles my hair and the back of my neck. “Are you ready to go?” he asks.

It is late in the afternoon, but I am not sure of the time. I smile, completely sated from his embrace and no longer conscious of who may see. “Whenever you are.”

Slowly, Ryan turns me around so that I am facing him. He looks at me appreciatively and lovingly. “Thank you. Thank you for everything you did to help me make this happen.” And with that statement, he folds me into a firm embrace. All of my anxiety evaporates with his touch.

I take everything in, Ryan’s sincerity, his appreciation for my work, his kindness, and his strong arms that envelop my small body. I am enjoying this moment, and like him, I no longer give a damn who knows. Ryan pulls back and leans down to gently kiss me.

“Let’s go,” I murmur against his lips.

* * *

By the time we arrive back at the hotel, we are both exhausted. “Room service?” Ryan asks coyly.

“Best idea you’ve had all day,” I say.

Ryan shakes his head, watching me warily as I strip off my clothes. I am beyond tired, and we still have the main event tomorrow. I drag on my pj’s and climb into bed.

“Whitney, it’s still light out!” Ryan snaps.

“Yes, it is. But, that is one of the many perks of room service. Wake me when it gets here!”

Ryan moves swiftly across the room and slides into bed with me, clothes and all. “Who says that I am going to let you sleep?” he says sexily as he pulls me into his arms.
Ahh!
There is no point in arguing now.

After another glorious round of lovemaking, our room service arrives. Ryan ordered a variety off the menu, and I am thankful because I am starving now, too. We take our time as we enjoy the food and each other’s company. We eat in front of the large window looking out into the beautiful Chicago nightlife. The twinkling lights dance on the skyline. It’s romantic. And, it reminds me that Ryan and I have never really had a first date!
Oh well!

We talk much like the first night in my apartment. I love these long talks. It helps me to know Ryan better. Even though we have been through so much, we still know very little about each other. Tonight, he talks animatedly about Garrett. He shares stories from his childhood, racing memories, and the like. I know it must be helpful for him. Ryan chuckles to himself.

“What is it?” I ask.

“Nothing. I just remembered what my Dad said when he told me that he had given you the job as my PR manager.”

“Oh! I was wondering who delivered that good news to you.” I laugh recalling the first days of us working together.

Ryan raises his eyebrows,
“Son, you met your match! And I can’t wait to see how ya’ll duke it out.”
A wave of sadness washes over his face and my heart drops. Because, we both know that he won’t get to see how our relationship progresses.

Chapter 44

T
he alarm clock on my iPhone sings in my ears. I will the sound away and try to block it out. I am far too comfortable. I must get up. I must get up. It’s race day! I finally reconcile myself internally to get up from my slumber. I sit up in the bed and instantly see Ryan sitting across the room at the table by the large window. He is already dressed and ready for the track. I can tell he is in deep thought. A chill runs down my spine as I think about the weight that must be on his shoulders.

My movement from across the room stirs Ryan from his deep reverie. He turns his beautiful face to meet my concerned gaze and smiles his glorious megawatt smile that turns my body into Jell-O.
Oh my!

“Good morning, beautiful!” he says. I smile, relieved that he is in a good mood. Ryan moves quickly from his perch across the room and is by my side instantly. He leans over and caresses my cheek. “I love waking up with you on race day and every other day for that matter.”

I smile and rest my head in his hand.

* * *

When we arrive at Chicagoland, it is pure madness. The news of Ryan’s arrival and intent to race has gone viral despite my attempts to keep the news on the down low. The moment Ryan and I climb out of the car, we are surrounded by a sea of media, paparazzi, and a throng of wild fans. Ryan takes my hand to lead me through the crowd. The cameras snap, and I am aware of each flash that pops in my eyes.

Ryan effectively ignores a series of questions and harsh invasions of privacy as the crowd follows us en route to the mandatory morning drivers’ meeting. I feel my chest begin to seize with panic. Ryan must sense my nervousness because he lets go of my hand to snake his arm tightly around my waist, pulling me in close.