Revving it Up

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Stimulated, Book 2

Lexxie Couper

Published 2016 by Book Boutiques.

ISBN: 978-1-944003-19-7

Copyright © 2016, Lexxie Couper.

All rights reserved.

Chapter 1

Sydney, Australia

Nothing got Sami Charlton off more than hot vibrations between her spread thighs.

It would be worrisome if she didn’t enjoy the sensation, given she experienced it every day. Made a living from it, in fact. A very successful living. One that included truck-loads of money, multiple trophies and a level of celebrity status in certain circles.

Who would have thought the day her older brother had deposited her on his trail bike when she was only six would lead to a career—twenty years later—where she got to experience an orgasm every time she went to work? In front of thousands of people, no less?

Life was indeed good.

Dropping back through the gears of her KTM 350, Sami rode the last throbbing wave of her latest motocross-induced climax before drawing to a halt next to her mechanic.

“How many?” Jay Rutledge asked as she handed him her custom-designed helmet, a knowing smirk on his face.

“Three,” she answered, scruffing at her hair with her gloved fingers. She didn’t need a mirror to know the cropped peroxide-white strands were now sticking out from her scalp in a crazy mess. When one wore a helmet for extended periods of time, one gave up the notion of having the kind of tresses found in shampoo commercials.

Besides, white-white hair looked awesome against her olive skin, especially with the damn-near iridescent purple streak that hung down to her cheekbone she’d added yesterday.

“Only three?” Jay tsked, shaking his head in mock disappointment. “You tired today or something?”

Sami fixed him with a direct gaze. “You try having multiple orgasms while executing a nic nac on a bike your mechanic still hasn’t fixed the mono-shock rear suspension on, in front of the country’s leading motocross journalists and your main sponsors.”

Jay laughed. “Ouch.

“Yeah, that’s what my clit said.”

Sami threw her leg over her bike and scruffed at her hair again. In about ten minutes she would be speaking to said journalists and sponsors. That’s why they were at the Sydney Stadium, after all. To see her perform the routine that scored her the International Women’s Motocross Championship title last week in Dallas. To celebrate her win with interview questions and cheesy photos, and maybe—in the case of her sponsors—throw some more money her way.

“Your clit needs to—”

“Ms. Charlton.”

At the excited shout behind them, Sami and Jay turned.

“What the hell is she doing here?” Jay muttered, handing Sami back her helmet. “I’m outta here.”

Sami scowled at her mechanic. If the sod weren’t so fucking good at his job, she’d hit him. Or sack him. Or crash-tackle him to the ground before he could get away. No way was she facing Dianne Slough alone.

“Ms. Charlton.” The woman waved, tottering toward her on six-inch heels.

Sami rolled her eyes. What kind of idiot wore six-inch heels to a motocross event?

The same kind who works for Mr. Oh Look at Me I’m So Fucking Awesome.

Before Sami could pretend she hadn’t seen the woman hurrying toward her across the pit track, Eli Swanson’s personal assistant was squirming like an excited puppy directly in front of her.

“Hello, Ms. Charlton,” the woman chirped. “Mr. Swanson was very impressed with your performance today.”

Sami pulled a very unladylike face. “Mr. Swanson can blow me.”

Dianne Slough gasped. Sami had no idea why. “Mr. Swanson can blow me” was her standard response every time the woman relayed a condescending compliment from the international motocross superstar.

“He’s asked if you’ll join him in his private box for a drink,” Dianne plowed on.

“Hell no.”

Dianne’s wide smile didn’t falter. Sami had to give her points. No matter how many times Sami was rude to her boss—via Dianne—the woman continued. Swanson must pay her a shitload of money.

“Didn’t realize Biggest Dickus was in Australia at the moment.”

At Jay’s chuckle, Sami turned to find her mechanic standing on her right. Jay and Dianne had history. She didn’t know what it was, but it had something to do with when Jay was Eli’s head mechanic. She raised her eyebrows at him and he shrugged with a grin. “What? I’ve got your back. See how bloody awesome I am?”

As always, Dianne stubbornly refused to admit he was there. She didn’t even rise to the bait of Jay’s favorite nickname for her boss.

Draping her elbow on Jay’s shoulder, Sami fixed Dianne with a wide grin. “Tell Swanson when he makes a public apology for saying female motocross riders have no chance of being better than their male counterparts, we’ll have drinks. Until then…” She tossed Jay a sideways wink. “My butt. His lips.”

Dianne let out a sigh, cast Sami a disappointed look and then turned and tottered across the dirt track leading to the pit exit.

It took Sami half a second to realize the entire exchange had been witnessed by more than one member of the media.

Crap.

Turning to the hovering photographers and journalists, she flashed them a grin. “Who wants to ask me if I think Eli Swanson is afraid to challenge me in a freestyle race?”

Beside her, Jay let out a snort.

“So you really do think you could beat him?” a male reporter from the leading Australia sports station asked, microphone pointed at her. “You really think you’re better than the three-time International Motocross Champion?”

Sami let her grin stretch wider. “I don’t think it, Mike. I know it.”

“What do you think, Rutledge?” The reporter, Michael Bailey, swung his mic to Jay. “You were Swanson’s mechanic for five years before jumping ship and joining Team Charlton. Do you think she’s got what it takes?”

Jay slid Sami a sideways inspection. “Fucking oath,” he said, holding her gaze.

For some reason, and for the first time, it dawned on Sami how incredibly blue his eyes were.

Blue and direct and burning with—

“So, Sami, what would you bet to get the chance to prove you’re better than him?” Michael asked, his tone humored.

Heart thumping faster than it really had any right to, Sami tried to drag her stare from Jay’s. Tried but failed.

Holy fuck, since when did her mechanic have such sexy eyes?

Since forever, woman. Admit it. You’ve always thought his eyes were gorgeous. You’ve just never seen him looking at you with such obvious…

An unexpected throb pulsed into warm life at the junction of her thighs.

Sami swallowed. Fuck, why the fuck was she suddenly so horny?

“Ms. Charlton?” the reporter prompted. “What would you bet to—”

“Anything.” The single word answer fell from her lips in little more than a husky murmur.

Jay’s jaw bunched. That heat she’d never seen in his eyes before flared again.

Never seen before? Or never noticed before?

The guffaws of the surrounding media yanked her out of the disquieting moment.

Michael Bailey laughed, scribbling something in the notepad in his hand. “Brave woman.”

The sound of the Bee Gees singing Stayin’ Alive filled the air before Sami could respond.

Jay’s mobile phone.

Her mechanic bit back a muttered curse and turned away from Sami and the media, withdrawing his phone from the back pocket of his coveralls as he did so.

Sami found her gaze roaming over him. God, he had a nice back. And shoulders. And an incredible butt.

Sami shifted on her feet, gripping her helmet tighter with hands that for some reason wanted to shake. What the hell was going on with her? What was meant to be a relaxed demonstration for her sponsors and the media to celebrate her latest title had somehow become wholly not relaxing. Maybe she needed to fire up her bike, rev it up a bit and cliffhanger and can can a couple of orgasms her way. Climax away the weird, funky tension trying to fuck with—

“That’s what Biggest Dickus wants me to tell her?”

Jay’s low voice uttering his nickname for Swanson jerked Sami back to the pit. And her mechanic. If she’d heard him, the gathering media would have as well. Michael Bailey was probably doing an internal dance of joy; he damn near had a cottage industry going reporting on the Swanson/Charlton rivalry.

She studied Jay’s back, his broad back, with its broad shoulders and narrow hips and tight—

“Word for word?” he asked into his phone.

A pause followed. A short one.

“Okay then,” Jay went on. “But it’s Swanson’s funeral.”

He disconnected the call, shoved his phone into his pocket and then turned back to Sami, his expression as unreadable as his voice. “Swanson’s agreed to your bet. He wants to discuss with you in his private box what he gets when he beats you.”

Sami’s tummy clenched.

Jay’s stare held hers. A muscle ticked in his jaw. “The emphasis,” he said, “is his.”

Eli didn’t consider himself an arrogant or conceited man. He just knew he was better than anyone else at what he did.

He wasn’t North American Motocross Champion five times running, nor International Motocross Champion three times running, because he was average. He was far from average.

Nor had he achieved such success because he played it safe.

Playing it safe was for the weak, and he wasn’t weak either.

He’d been weak once. He wouldn’t be so again. Being weak had cost him. A mechanic and a friend.

“Arrogant” and “conceited” were words used to describe him, however. By the media, his fans and his sponsors. His rivals also called him the same, along with “dangerous”, “insane” and “ruthless”.

Of all the titles and names bestowed upon him, his favorite—fuck-knuckle—had been granted to him by the woman currently shaking her head at his ex-head mechanic on the television screen before him.

Watching Sami Charlton argue with Jay Rutledge, he wished the reporter controlling the live feed from Fox Sports would forget professional ethics for one moment and direct the camera’s mic at the pair.

Not only did he want to hear Sami’s Australian accent, he wanted to hear what she was calling him today. And what his one-time best friend was calling him as well.

Which one was arguing against his invitation, he wondered.

Rutledge? He and his ex-mechanic had not parted company on the best of terms, but they’d once shared almost everything.

At the sight of Jay shaking his head and stabbing his finger to the center of his palm, Eli guessed the mechanic wasn’t singing his praises. He’d seen that very body language before. The day Jay told him he was an “arrogant fuck” who was going to die all alone if he wasn’t careful.

“Careful” was another thing Eli didn’t do. In any aspect of his life, a fact he’d pointed out to Jay.

It was only when he’d seen Rutledge on ESPN a week later, standing beside Sami as her new mechanic, that he’d realized the Australian had returned to his homeland and gotten himself an Australian boss.

One Eli wanted to fuck with every bone, every fiber, every molecule in his body.

Turning his attention to Sami on the screen, Eli’s cock pulsed.

He’d kissed her once. After she’d come second to him in a charity ride for childhood leukemia in Tennessee last year.

Kissed her like he wanted to fuck her—hard and with possessive hunger.

The media covering the event had captured the kiss and the fiery lust in Sami’s eyes when he’d released her.

He watched that footage every night. Went to bed with the memory of it in his head and in his body.

Two weeks later, body pent-up with denied desire and charged energy, he’d been asked by a reporter on CNN if he thought female MX riders were as good as their male counterparts. The reporter had pointed out Sami came close to beating him in the charity ride.

Eli had said no to the notion.

He’d wanted an excuse for Sami Charlton to contact him. To confront him. To give him a piece of her feisty, fired-up mind.

She hadn’t. Instead, she’d called him a fuck-knuckle live on air during an interview.

Settling back in his seat now, he watched her throw up her hands at Rutledge. Watched her utter words he couldn’t hear with lips he ached to taste again.

Had Jay tasted them?

His ex-mechanic had had a thing for her for a long time, ever since she first appeared on the international circuit—a risk-taking rider with a trashy mouth and a hot body.

Jay didn’t think Eli knew about his desire for the woman, but Eli did.

On screen, Sami threw her helmet straight at Jay’s chest, spun on her heel and stormed out of the camera’s frame, leaving her mechanic with a scowl on his face.

It would appear Rutledge had lost the argument.

“Care to comment, Jay?”

Eli smiled as the reporter—Michael something or other—shoved his mic in Rutledge’s face.

Rutledge rolled his eyes. “To borrow my boss’s words: my arse, your lips.”

And with that, he walked out of the shot. But not before Eli saw him yank his cell from his pocket.

On a small table beside his chair, Eli’s phone rang.

His heart thumped harder in his throat. His groin throbbed.

Waving a dismissive hand at Dianne as she reached for the ringing phone, he waited.

A few moments later, silence filled the room.

A second after that, the voice mail alert sounded.

“Why don’t you get yourself a coffee, Dianne,” he said with a smile for his personal assistant.

“Thank you, Mr. Swanson. Do you want anything?”

He shook his head, and then waited until she had exited the private box—provided today by one of his minor sponsors—before retrieving his cell and listening to Rutledge’s message.

“Sam says you’re on.”

Eli returned his phone to the table.

He thought of the way she’d responded to his surprise kiss a year ago, of the wild, almost uninhibited way she rode a circuit. Of the insane tricks she pulled when freestyling. Thought of the heated venom she used when talking about him to reporters.

And then, chest tight, groin tighter, he allowed himself to think of the foolish bet she’d made but a few moments ago.

Anything. She’s bet anything she could beat him.

He smiled again, an expression he knew people would label smug. Let’s see how true to her words—and how confident in her skills—she really is.

Settling back in his chair, he rested his ankle on his knee and took a sip of mineral water from the sweating glass in his hand. Savored the icy-cold liquid as it flowed down his throat. Focused on it.

Drew a slow breath, held it for a count of five and released it.

Took another sip of water and studied the cloudless blue sky beyond the tinted window before him.

The door to the private box crashed open. A gust of hot, petrol-tainted air rushed into the room, followed immediately by the heat of Sami Charlton’s ire.

“When you win?” she sputtered, repeating the words he’d had Dianne deliver to Rutledge in their earlier telephone conversation.

He didn’t rise from the chair as she stomped to where he sat.

Instead, he took another sip of water, ignoring her.

She stopped directly in front of him, hands balled on her slim hips, legs spread, eyes flashing bloody murder.

“You said ‘anything’, correct?” he asked, emphasizing his Southern drawl with deliberate intent. She’d once declared his accent “as sexy as all hell” during an interview. Of course, that was before he’d kissed her in Tennessee. Before the infamous are-males-better-than-females question.

Jaw bunching, Sami grabbed the arms of his chair and moved her face closer to his. So close he could feel her indignant pants on his lips.

His cock throbbed.

“Anything,” she snarled.

“Even this?” he asked, a second before he snared a fistful of the cropped mess of hair at the back of her head and yanked her mouth to his.

Chapter 2

Anything,” Jay muttered, tossing Sami’s helmet to one of his crew. “Friggin’ anything.”

His crew, the best team of mechanics he’d ever worked with, stood back. He didn’t have a bad temper, but they knew when he needed to storm.

The garage space at Sydney Stadium—Team Charlton’s permanent base—was big enough to accommodate all of Sami’s bikes and gear, all of his equipment and, it seemed, his current pissed-off state.

“Anything,” he muttered, picking up a carburetor adjustment screwdriver from a nearby counter, only to glare at it and toss it back down.

“You okay, boss?”

Jay raked his hands through his hair—Christ, when had it gotten so shaggy?—and flung a disgruntled glance at the open garage door.

Anything.

He knew exactly what Eli would want if she lost the race.

What the hell had Sam been thinking?

You know what she’d been thinking. You saw it in her eyes. Every damn emotion and thought she ever has is telegraphed on her face. She was looking at you, and for the first time since you started working for her, you saw in her eyes…

Jay’s pulse quickened.

Desire. He’d seen desire.

Raw and hot and unexpected.

It had distracted her, as much as it had unarmed him.

His boss had been looking at him with open sexual interest, had been distracted by it enough to make that ridiculous bet, and then Swanson had called and no matter what Jay said, she’d agreed to go see him to discuss the challenge.

“Fuck,” he muttered, heading for the door.

“Boss?”

“Reg, you get to shut up shop,” he threw over his shoulder, not slowing down. “And if any of you see Sam before you see me again, you are under orders to ocky-strap her to the chair in my office and keep her there.”

He didn’t wait to see his crew’s reaction. His body, however, made it clear how it felt about tying Sami Charlton to a chair with bungee cords. Or any kind of cord…or rope…

Jesus.

Ignoring the purely physical response—difficult as it was; walking with a semi-hard-on was never easy—Jay exited the garage and headed for the corporate box Eli Swanson was ensconced in.

He had to stop Sami agreeing to the stupid bet.

Before the Yank bastard got his mitts into her again.

An image of Swanson and Sami writhing completely naked on a bed filled Jay’s head, and his feet stumbled beneath him midstride.

“Fuck,” he muttered, trying to clear his head.

But it didn’t matter how much he scrunched his eyes shut and grimaced around gritted teeth, in his mind, Eli Swanson traced the tip of his tongue the length of Sami’s inner thigh until his face was buried between her spread legs and Sami arched on the mattress, kneading her own breasts as she rolled her head from side to side and begged him to make her—

Jay burst into a sprint, his cock no longer semi-hard but a rigid shaft. Harder than it had a right being, given the way his mind was torturing him.

Taking the concrete stairs leading up to Swanson’s private box two at a time, Jay balled his fists to the point of pain. It didn’t help. By the time he arrived at the corporate box’s closed door, the image in his mind had become something more than torturous. Something beyond arousing.

Something too appealing. Too inviting.

An image involving not just Eli and Sami, but…

It’s reminding you how fucking amazing it is to share a woman with Swanson. And how much you want Sami for yourself.

Stupid fucking mind.

Heart wild, balls throbbing, he hammered the side of his fist against the closed door.

In his mind, Swanson lifted his head from between Sami’s thighs…just as Sami reached for Jay’s erect cock and slid her lips over its bulbous crown.

Eyes closed, Jay mashed his forehead against the door and let out a tormented groan.

No. No, he didn’t want to go there.

Bullshit. Has your cock ever been harder?

He hammered his fist against the solid wood again. “Sam,” he shouted, and even to his own ears, her name sounded more like a wretched plea. “Don’t let the fucking bastard—”

The door swung open.

Jay tumbled over the threshold, catching his balance a second before he slammed into a soft, warm body.

“Jay?” Sami’s voice flayed at his senses as strong fingers wrapped around his biceps.

In one savage move, he grabbed Sami around the waist, yanked her to his body and crushed her mouth with his.

She stilled against him for barely a heartbeat, body stiff and rigid, and then tangled her fingers in his hair and met his fierce hunger with equal greed.

Again, for barely a heartbeat.

Tearing her lips from his, Sami pressed her palms to his chest and pushed their upper bodies apart. She gaped up at him, confusion warring with another emotion Jay couldn’t identify in her eyes. “What the fuck, Jay?”

“I think,” Eli’s broad Southern accent filled the strangled silence, “that Rutledge is doing his best to mark his territory.”

Red rage flooded Jay. Tainted sour by the mocking truth of Eli’s declaration.

He flung a glare at the American, even as his body thrummed hotter with a primitive need. “Unless you want me to break that pretty-boy jaw of yours, Swanson, I’d suggest you—”

“Whoa whoa whoa.” Sami squirmed out of Jay’s arms, incredulous shock on her face as she made a T with her hands. “Time out.”

Eli chuckled, the sound smug.

Turning away from the bastard, Jay balled his fists at his sides, too close to a violent edge he feared he’d fall over if he weren’t careful.

“Sam,” he began, reaching for his boss’s hand. “I need…I should have…”

Sami frowned, retracting her hand before his fingers could find hers. “What’s going on, Jay? You just storm in here and kiss me? Since when do you carry on like some kind of caveman? Wanna drag me out of the room by my hair as well?”

Chest tight, Jay drew in a slow breath. “Okay, I know that came out of nowhere, but I also know Swanson wants to get in your pants. A lot.”

Sami cocked an eyebrow. “And if I want him to?” she asked, her tone ambiguous. “What business is that of yours?”

Jay swallowed. For the first time since knowing her, he couldn’t read what was going on in her head. Not at all.

Uh-oh.

Mouth dry, he studied her face. “Do you?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Rutledge.” She planted her palms on his chest and shoved. Hard. “If you’d come barging through the door five seconds earlier, you would have witnessed Swanson doubled-over in pain thanks to my knee firmly slamming into his nuts after he kissed me.”

Jay blinked.

Sami stabbed a finger at him. “And you’re bloody lucky you didn’t get the same.” Throwing a glance at Eli, she shook her head. “What is it with you two? Anyone would think I’m a piece of meat to fight over.”

Ignoring the churning sensation in his gut, Jay fixed her with a hard stare. “Do you want him to get in your pants?” he repeated. “I know what you’re like, Sam. I know a knee to the nuts could quite easily constitute foreplay to you.”

“Now that’s interesting.” Eli’s Southern drawl scraped at Jay’s sanity. “And good to know. You can leave now, Rutledge. Your boss and I have something to continue.”

Jay snarled at Swanson. “Watch it, Swanson.

“Oh, for the love of God,” Sami snapped. “Can you two get your fucking testosterone under control for a moment?”

Mouth dry, gut clenched, Jay turned back to his boss. “If you accept his bet, boss,” he said, desperate to recoup some semblance of professional dignity, “he’s going to use it to sleep with you, knee to the nuts or not.”

Sami arched an eyebrow. “And I’m guessing by the way you came barging in just now, balls swinging, you don’t want me to sleep with him. And by sleep, we all know you mean fuck, right?”

Jay let out a ragged breath. This wasn’t going the way he’d planned.

Planned? Huh, you didn’t have a plan. You just ran up here, horny for reasons you don’t want to admit and—

“And just so we’re clear,” Sami continued, her tone growing more calm and enigmatic with every word, her eyes equally unreadable, “the reason you think Eli will get to fuck me is because you believe he’ll win the bet—not me?”

A hot lump filled Jay’s throat. Christ, he hadn’t thought any of this through.

“Correct?”

He swallowed. Stared at his boss. Balled his fists.

“No, not correct,” he said, voice a dry scratch. “I didn’t think that. I don’t think that. I just know how much Swanson wants you for his own.”

Sami’s expression didn’t waver. “Enough to cheat?”

Shaking his head, Jay turned for the door. “Forget it. Forget I was here. Get back to doing whatever it is you were both doing before I arrived.”

“Wait a minute, Rutledge.”

He stopped at Sami’s stern order. Swallowed again. Pivoted on his heel and met her gaze.

A light burned in her blue eyes, the same fire that danced there every time she mounted her bike. “Who says you’re allowed to go?”

Jay drew a slow breath as she walked slowly toward him. He craved her on a level he didn’t want to admit.

“What if,” she went on, tiptoeing her fingers up the center of his chest, her eyes holding him prisoner, “I want to change the bet?”

“Change?”

Jay flinched at Eli’s question. Christ, he’d forgotten the guy was in the room.

No, you hadn’t. You’re trying to pretend you don’t want him in the room. You’re trying to pretend you don’t want—

Sami’s lips curled in a slow smile as her fingertips made their way over Jay’s chin and up to his lips.

He resisted the urge to suck them into his mouth. Just.

“Change,” Sami repeated with a single nod.

“In what way?” Eli asked.

Jay couldn’t look at him. Couldn’t tear his stare from her eyes and the wild, hungry fire in their depths.

“If I lose,” she said, inching her fingers back down Jay’s chin, his chest, down to his abs, his belt buckle… “You, Eli, get to decide what anything means and I will honor it.”

Jay bit back a groan. “Sam,” he breathed. “No.”

She arched an eyebrow at him. The heat in her eyes flared hotter. “But if I win—and I will—you both sleep with me. At the same time. And by ‘sleep’, I mean fuck, and by ‘same time’ I mean you both dedicate yourself simultaneously to giving me the best sex of my fucking life. Together.”

Sami stared up into her mechanic’s face. Waited for him—and Eli—to respond.

She fully accepted that what she’d just proposed was insanity, but when a girl was pushed to the limit, sometimes insanity was the only option. She had no fucking clue how to deal with the sudden and completely unexpected situation in which she now found herself. Two guys—one she despised despite his sexy accent and sexier body, and one she’d firmly thought belonged only on the friend bench—were now both trying to lay claim to her?

It was enough to make her head spin. And, she discovered, her pussy throb.

She wasn’t prepared for that. The best way to get them off her case, to halt the sexual pissing contest and give her some time to digest the way her body was reacting to both of them, was to throw them completely for a loop with a ludicrous suggestion.

There was no way, no way, they’d ever agree to a threesome. No way. Eli Swanson was too much an egotistical alpha male to consider it, and Jay was just too damn sweet.

“Are you seriously suggesting what I think you are?”

At Eli’s question—uttered with disquieting calm—Sami’s heart slammed into her throat.

Why didn’t he sound shocked? Or repulsed? Jesus, why the hell did he actually sound…interested? What the hell?

Fixing him with a steady gaze, she let out a scoffing snort. “Eli, the only way I’d ever fuck you is if Jay fucked me too. There’s no way you’re man enough for me. I’d need my mechanic to finish the job.”

The second the slur on his manhood passed her lips, she realized it probably wasn’t the smartest move she’d made that day.

Smart? Huh, more like waving a red flag in front of a bull.

“Christ, Sam,” Jay groaned beside her. “What the hell are you doing?”

Sami truly didn’t know. The situation had somehow taken on a surreal life of its own.

God, if only her stupid pussy would stop throbbing and pulsing and carrying on at the thought of both men doing her.

Still staring at Eli, determined not to let him see just how deep she’d thrown herself into the proverbial shit with no sign of a paddle in sight, Sami arched her eyebrow. “Well?”

For fuck’s sake, woman. Shut up!

Eli studied her. Motionless. His eyes raked over her, from top to toes and back to her face again. Not a hint of what he was thinking showed in his expression.

“I am more than enough man for you, Charlton,” he finally said, that drawl of his more pronounced than ever. “But at least if Rutledge is joining in, it might keep your mouth busy. Shut you up for a while.”

Sami’s stomach lurched. And then rolled. And then lurched again.

Oh God, had he just agreed to her ridiculous proposition?

Had he?

At her side, Jay let out another groan. This one, however, was less incredulous disbelief and more…sexual hunger.

Feeling as if she were suddenly wrapped in hot cotton wool, Sami swung her stare to her mechanic.

Found him watching her, unmistakable need on his face.

Holy fuck, what had just happened?

“Are you in, Rutledge?”

At Eli’s calm question, Jay’s Adam’s apple jerked up and down the strong column of his throat. With a barely perceptible glance toward Eli, he nodded.

Once.

A tsunami of nervous disbelief rolled through Sami. She gaped at her mechanic, mouth dry, pulse pounding.

What the hell?

What the fucking hell?

Eli chuckled, the sound at once smug and humored. “Done.”

Sami swallowed. Oh God, how would she get herself out of this madness?

Get yourself out? Is that what you really want?

Pulse doing its best to punch a hole in her throat, she returned her stare to the American.

He studied her, lips curled in an insufferable smirk.

“Unless,” he said, lifting his eyebrows in a mocking show of realization, “you were only trying to bluff us? Perhaps you’re not enough woman to handle us both?”

Infuriated determination flooded Sami. She snapped her spine straight. “Your lips. My arse. Fuck-knuckle.”

He laughed. “I take it that’s a yes, then?”

“It is.”

Sami’s tummy erupted in fresh flurries of nerves the moment the words left her. Her pussy, however, pulsed with an urgency she had never experienced before.

She gulped in a breath, that hot-cotton-wool sensation wrapping around her tighter.

Holy crap, she’d just agreed to a threesome with Eli and Jay.

She’d just agreed to let both men make love to her at the same time.

Not just agreed to it, suggested it.

Was this what her best friend, Phoebe, meant when she’d declared Sami lived her life purely on impulse?

Cause holy fuck, what she’d just proposed was the epitome of impulsive.

“If I beat you,” Eli went on, stalking toward where she stood—numb and on fire all at once, “I get to decide what you have to do as the loser. If you beat me, Rutledge and I get to…” His gaze raked over her once more, a linger caress that made her want to rub her thighs together. “Be your sexual slaves.”

Sami barely bit back her whimper at the term.

At her side, Jay let out a strangled sound of carnal desire that flooded her sex with fresh impatience.

Stopping directly in front of where she stood on shaky knees, Eli drew his face closer to hers. “You do realize no matter the outcome, I’m the winner in this, yes?”

Recover, woman. Recover. Reclaim the power. Don’t let him—

“You do realize,” she choked out, meeting his stare even as she struggled to breathe, “before any fucking takes place between the three of us, you will make a public statement that female motocross riders are just as good as male riders and apologize for saying they aren’t? I beat you; you apologize. That’s the whole reason for this…this…”

A crooked smile tugged at Eli’s lips. “This situation you find yourself in? I do realize that, but do you really think you’re going to beat me?”

That nervous sensation in Sami’s tummy flared up again. She recognized it for what it was—anticipation-fueled adrenaline. The high of pushing the boundaries. The crave for more than just the humdrum of a safe existence.

“I do,” she answered. “And you’re going to apologize. And I will be standing right there beside you, for the whole world to see. Do you understand?”

A darkness flickered in Eli’s eyes. There and gone just as quick. “I do. And I still agree to the bet.”

Sami’s heart slammed harder in her throat.

Out of control. This was all so…out of control.

Was that why she felt more freaking alive than ever?

Chapter 3

Eli wanted to think he couldn’t have orchestrated it more perfectly. That it had gone exactly as he’d wanted it to. He wanted to think the old magic he and Rutledge shared when it came to working together had come into play again and he and his ex-mechanic were responsible for Sami’s unexpected challenge of a threesome.

But he knew Sami had bluffed herself into a corner.

She really was a fireball of grrl power.

He didn’t realize how much that turned him on until now. Or how much he liked the idea of rendering her defenseless, with the help of Jay, to her sexual pleasure.

He and his ex-mechanic had more than one shared conquest under their collective belts, but something about Sami joining that list made him harder than ever.

Perhaps it was the very fact he knew Jay wanted more from Sami than just sex.

Resisting the urge to take possession of her mouth now, he straightened and turned to study the man.

Rutledge stood silent, a statue of enigmatic emotion.

Was the energy radiating off him like a thermonuclear blast from anger or desire?

If Sami walked out of the room now, would Jay thank him for pushing her to a place she hadn’t intended to go? Or beat him to a bloody pulp for daring to reduce her to a creature for their sexual pleasure?

His ex-mechanic met his gaze, his eyes revealing nothing of the thoughts in his head.

“A condition of the bet,” Eli said, swinging his focus back to Sami. Damn, she was a stunning vixen. Even in her shell-shocked state, he could see the passion, the desire, the hunger simmering below the surface of her indignation.

Sami arched an eyebrow.

“Rutledge gets to pick the location of the race.”

“What?” Confusion filled Jay’s voice.

“Why?” Sami asked, less confused, more wary.

Eli arched an eyebrow. “Your mechanic, my ex-mechanic, knows our riding techniques better than anyone on the planet. I trust him to pick a circuit that favors neither of us.”

Sami’s eyes narrowed. “Why do I feel like you’re playing me?”

He lowered his face closer to hers. “You’re the one who made the bet, Charlton. I’m just making sure it’s an even playing field.”

Flicking Rutledge a grin, he straightened. “And I suspect I know exactly the outcome Jay wants.”

“Which is?”

Eli turned back to Sami. “The one that lands him in your pants.”

Sami’s lips parted on a hitching breath.

“Jesus, Swanson,” Jay growled.

Eli waited for more from both of them. If Jay had come at him, rage propelling that muscle-on-muscle body of his, Eli wouldn’t have been surprised.

Instead, Sami slid her stare to Rutledge. Studied him.

A slither of something hot snaked through Eli, something unexpected.

Jealousy.

There was no denying the desire in Sami’s eyes as she looked at her mechanic. But it wasn’t desire that awoke an emotion Eli normally never experienced. Sami had looked at him with open sexual hunger more than once. He would never have kissed her—twice—if she hadn’t.

No, what stirred a jealous heat inside him was the hope he saw on her face.

Whether she wanted to admit it or not, whether she was aware of it or not, she felt more for Jay than just base sexual interest. She wanted more from him.

Would she ever look at him the same way?

Did he want her to?

“Goanna Tracks.”

Eli startled at Jay’s deep snarl. He frowned at his one-time friend. “Is that a place? Or some strange Australian code for go fuck yourself?”

Jay glared at him. Eli couldn’t miss the tension coiling in the man’s body. Or the way his jaw bunched.

“It’s an MX complex about five hours inland. At a place called Coonabarabran,” Sami answered. “World class. International-scale tracks. Caters to motocross, amcross, enduro and enduro extreme. I’ve never ridden any of them, but I’ve heard some of them are fucking insane.”

Eli narrowed his eyes at Jay.

Jay met his gaze. “It’s about as level a playing field as I can think of.”

For some reason, the answer sent Eli’s pulse thumping. “Is it private?”

“You think I’m going to fuck you both on the track?”

At Sami’s scoff, Eli grinned at her. “You’re still assuming you’re going to win, Charlton. And yes, I was thinking the track would be the perfect place for some dirty fore—”

Sami spun on her heel and strode for the door. “Set it up, Jay,” she threw over her shoulder without looking at either of them. “Book the entire complex ASAP and let me know when I have to be there.”

“Where you going, boss?” Rutledge called after her as she yanked the door open.

She paused on the threshold, her knuckles white as she gripped the doorknob. “I need a shower,” she answered. “A cold one.”

The door slammed shut behind her before Eli could goad her about her confession.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

He turned to his ex-mechanic, smirking as the man stormed toward him. “Getting you what you want, what we both want. The chance to fuck—”

Jay’s fist smashed into his jaw.

A detonation of white pain exploded in Eli’s head. He staggered backward, even as he burst out laughing. “There’s the Rutledge I know and love.”

Jay bore down on him, fists balled. “You’re a fucking wanker, Swanson.”

Rubbing his jaw, Eli pranced sideways. He didn’t think Jay was going to hit him again, but he wasn’t risking his jaw on it. “No, I’m the man who always wins. You know that. And even if I lose this bet, I win. As do you, so what the hell are you so angry about? Anyone would think you love Sami, with the way you’re behaving.”

Jay’s nostrils flared. Dark fury flared in his eyes. “You are a fucking wanker, Eli,” he repeated, before turning away.

Eli rubbed his jaw again, watching Jay head for the door.

“There’s nothing wrong with admitting it, Rutledge.”

“There is if you’re going to sleep with her,” Jay snarled over his shoulder without slowing down.

The door slammed behind him, leaving Eli alone with nothing but the echo of the sharp bang in his ears and a disarming sensation in his gut that mocked him in a way he couldn’t fathom. That made him feel like a shit and question his sexual response to the whole situation.

What the hell was going on? Since when did he care what anyone felt or wanted except himself?

Since when did he have a conscience?

And what the hell was he going to do about it?

Hitting the switch to flood the garage with light, his gut, hell, his mind a turbulent mess of conflicted desires, Jay froze.

Sami sat perched on the edge of the main bench, her stare locked on his face.

Unable to stop himself, he devoured her with his eyes.

She’d stripped out of her riding pants and jacket, dressed now in only her favorite training jersey and a pair of skimpy black knickers.

Jay’s groin—still heavy with a want he truly wished he could deny—tightened at the site. He’d seen Sami in such attire before, she had a habit of fiddling with her bikes post-race dressed as such, but this was the first time she’d done so since discovering his sexual desire for her.

What did that mean?

His secret was out, the desire he’d harbored for his boss no longer confined to nights alone in his bed or long minutes in his shower. And yet, despite the insanity of what just happened, he couldn’t bring himself to apologize. Or try to talk his way out of it.

Swallowing the thick lump in his throat, he dragged his stare away from her and continued into the garage, heading for the bike she’d ridden to a multiple orgasms only a couple hours ago. “I thought you were going to have a cold shower?” he asked, wishing to hell his voice sounded less strained and more indifferent.

“I need you to do something for me.” Her voice sounded equally as strained. Christ, would they ever be the same around each other again?

Is that what you want? The same?

“I’ve got to go over your bike,” he answered without looking at her. Reaching her KTM 350, he fixed his stare on its rear brake. “Fix that mono-shock rear suspension you keep grousing about. And then ring Goanna Tracks.”

“Rutledge, I need you to do something for me.”

“I’m busy,” he growled, dropping to a squat beside her bike. “Go have your shower.”

The soft sound of bare feet hitting the concrete floor told him she’d dropped down from the bench.

Good. He needed her out of there. Away from him.

He needed to get his head around what had just happened in Swanson’s private box. What was going to happen after the race at Goanna Tracks.

Sami’s long bare legs appeared at his side.

His brain registered her toenails were painted metallic-blue before his body registered he could feel the warmth of her body so close to his. A heavy spasm claimed his cock at the unexpected proximity. An invisible vice wrapped around his chest.

Under an equally invisible force, one he couldn’t fight, he turned his head and ran his gaze up Sami’s naked thighs, over the exquisite curve of her pussy hidden beneath the black cotton of her undies.

His breath caught. His balls throbbed.

“I don’t want a shower,” she said.

It took Jay a long second to realize she was responding to his previous words.

Longer still to drag his stare from her tantalizing black underpants and up to her face. “What do you want, boss?” he asked, forcing an air of irritated impatience into the question.

He had to get her out of here.

He was still reeling, still adrift.

Still angry with Eli.

Still too conflicted about it all.

Still too fucking turned-on.

Sami flicked her tongue over her bottom lip, hooked her fingers under the hemline of her training jersey and pulled it up over her head.

Staring up at her, Jay’s heart smashed into his throat.

She stood next to her bike, naked save for those skimpy damn undies, and studied him.

“Jesus, Sami,” he rasped, jolting to his feet.

He stared at her.

Her breasts—barely a handful but so fucking perfect his mouth filled with saliva—rose and fell as she drew a slow breath. Her nipples pebbled.

Jay swallowed. Jerked his stare up to her face. “Sami?” he moaned. “What—”

Sami snared his right wrist, raised his hand to her chest and placed his palm on her breast.

“A shower isn’t going to satisfy me, Jay,” she said, the words low, husky. “Not now. Not after what you and Eli—”

He shut her up with a kiss.

Plundered her mouth with his tongue. Bit at her lips. Invaded her mouth again.

She groaned, burying her hands in his hair as she ground her sex to his groin.

The punishing contact sent fresh steel to Jay’s dick and any thought of control abandoned him.

Sami Charlton was close to naked and rubbing against him. Control was a thing of the past.

Grabbing her butt with his free hand, he hauled her to his body, his fingers rough on her arse. Her heat radiated into him, adding to the hungry fire burning in his core.

She wriggled in his arms, her fists in his hair growing tighter as she lashed her tongue over his.

A part of him demanded he stop. Demanded he get to the bottom of the situation, to understand why Sami was here, now, doing this…

The rest of him didn’t give a fuck about the bottom of the situation when Sami’s bottom was so pliable and so there, in his hand.

Growling into her mouth, he kneaded her butt, drawing her closer still to his erection. His cock pulsed, trapped by the snug denim of his jeans, eager to be free of its restraint.

With a hitching whimper, Sami tore her lips from his. “Jay…”

He moved his mouth to her throat, scoring a greedy path down to her collarbone, nipping her hot flesh as he went.

She arched against him. Scraped her fingers over his scalp. “Fuck me, Jay—if I’d known it was going to be this fucking good I would have done this ages ago.”

The declaration—uttered on a panted moan—ignited something dark and ravenous in Jay. Something more than just desire.

Pulling away from her, he fixed her with a hard stare. “There’s no going back from this, Sam. Regardless of the outcome of your bet with Swanson, there’s no going back from this. Do you understand?”

Sami nodded. Her breasts rose and fell with every ragged breath she pulled. Her teeth caught her bottom lip. “I do.”

That dark heat flared hotter in Jay at the sight of Sami’s teeth worrying her bottom lip. It was an uncharacteristic action, one that told him his boss was as unsettled by the turn of events as he was. “You also need to understand, if you do beat the bastard, he and I will follow through. We will both fuck you.”

A glint of defiant challenge sparked in Sami’s eyes. “What do you mean if?”

He ground his teeth. “Do you understand, Sam?”

Again she nodded, her teeth back on her lip. “Yes. And I want you to. Both of you. I don’t know if that’s fucked up or depraved or sick, but I want you to. I said it as a way to throw you both off, but the second the words passed my lips I knew I wanted it. So fucking much.”

She stopped. Brushed her fingertips over his jaw, his lips. “But I want this first.”

Jay stopped himself from capturing her fingers with his mouth. Just. “Why?”

“I want you, just you, first. Now.” She leaned closer to him, her naked breasts caressing his chest through his shirt, her heat branding him despite the cotton of the garment. “Please, Jay. You know I don’t beg often, but please, I want you to make me fucking come now.”

He stared down into her face. Registered the fact nothing but a thin shield of cotton prevented her nipples from touching his skin.

Registered his cock pulsed with a want and desire he could no more deny or suppress than he could walk away from Sami now.

Struggling to temper its control on his body, he cupped her face in his palm. “No going back from this, boss,” he whispered, drawing his head closer to hers. “Remember that.”

A strained chuckle fell from her. “You think I’m ever going to forget this?”

Before he could respond, she claimed his lips with her own.

Pleasure engulfed him.

He groaned, giving himself over to the kiss.

Losing himself to it.

And even as he did, he knew it wasn’t enough.

He wanted more.

Grabbing her hips, he drove her backward, away from her bike, until he’d pinned her to the garage wall.

He held her there, making love to her mouth with his tongue, dragging his hands down Sami’s body as he did so until he encountered the side strings of her knickers. Without hesitation, he hooked his thumbs between them and her hips and pushed down.

She whimpered, the sound becoming louder as he rendered her completely naked.

Her blunt nails raked at his shoulders, over the back of his neck. Her tongue grew wilder in his mouth.

He reveled in her uninhibited response for a lingering moment, forcing himself to give her time. Time before he surrendered to his need for her.

All of her.

Then, without preamble or warning, Jay tore his lips from hers, dropped to his knees and parted the folds of her moist pussy with his tongue.

End of Extended Sample

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