Page 66 of Heartbreaker

“Maybe before you met me. I think that went out the window once you realized how fun it is to argue with people.” My hand slides up and down her thigh rhythmically, and her hips shift almost imperceptibly, but I notice all the same. I’m desperately and irrevocably attuned to every shift in Lana’s body. “But you do love to please me.”

“I do,” she breathes, reaching between us to where I’m already hardening beneath the loose shorts I’m wearing. “I kind of want to please you right now.” I grin then, even if her hand on my dick has my mind short-circuiting a bit.

“Is that right?” I ask. My hand slides up under the towel to cup her breast. Her tits are always so sensitive, and I fucking love it. Her breath hitches when my thumb brushes over her tight nipple, and she licks her lips.

“Yeah,” she says, proving it by pulling my cock out of my shorts and stroking me. I tug the towel off her and throw it aside. Her hips shift up my body, lining her slit along the bottom of my shaft as she slides her arms around my neck, fingers burying into the back of my hair, and dipping her head to kiss me. It’s slow and deep, languorous, as if we have all the time in the world. Her hips shift and rock, sliding along my cock in slow strokes. My fingers dig into her hips, guiding gently, but letting her take what she wants from me. I’m painfully hard in moments, and she groans as her clit grinds along the head of my cock. Each pass, she seems more and more wet, coating me with her.

“You’re so gorgeous,” I rasp out when her head falls to my neck, unable to keep kissing through her panting breaths. “So fucking gorgeous, so fucking sweet.”

“So yours?” she asks, and I pull her head back with my grip on her hair, making her look at me.

“Always, Lana. Every version of you is mine. The sweet one, the sassy one who fights me, the one who kicks my ass on the dirt. The spy, the little sister, the friend. All of it. I want every version of you, because they all make up my favorite person in the world.” Her eyes shimmer, and I press my lips to her cheek. “You said you’ve never fit in anywhere, not without changing yourself, but you’ll always fit in here.”

“Rome,” she whispers, voice heavy.

“I know, Lana,” I say in answer.

“I—” she starts, but cuts off, moving instead. Always on the same wavelength, I reach between us, taking my cock in hand as her hips lift before lining the head up with her entrance. She slides down, and we both groan.

“Perfect every time,” I rasp as she rises and falls slowly.

“You’re perfect for me, too,” she whimpers as she moves her hips.

“I know, baby,” I breathe. My hands cup her ass, helping her lift and sink onto me, feeling the way she tightens around my cock. Her nails dig into my chest, her breathing ragged.

“Everything about you, every new tidbit I learn, I fall a little bit more,” I murmur, the words spilling without a conscious thought. Her eyes move to mine and her lips part, but neither of us mentions how close it sounds to a different kind of confession altogether.

I don’t think I’m ready to confess something like that, something so big, and after an already heavy day. I don’t think she is either, even if it’s swelling in my chest. She’s still worried about how I might see her, the way the truth might change things, and only time will ease that.

But I’ve been falling for Lana for a long time and today didn’t change that in the least.

“Rome,” she whimpers. I lift my hips, pushing in deeper as she sinks while coasting a hand up her back and threading my fingers through her hair, gripping her tight before pulling her lips to mine.

We don’t have the time or energy to talk about feelings or the future for the rest of the night.

THIRTY-THREE

The Indy race is four days after I find out why Lana and Demi are really here, and I spend each hour nervously anticipating it. It’s a strange mix, knowing I’m going back to the circuit I love most for the first time since being suspended, but I’m not doing it as a driver. I spend every moment I can practicing, racing, fucking Lana, or helping Demi sort through files in any way I can. Anything to distract myself from what’s coming. But now the time is here, and there’s no more avoiding it.

When the time comes to head out, I walk over to Lana’s hotel room, hearing her and Demi cackling through the door. Despite the nervous energy in my chest, I find myself smiling. Lana insisted on getting ready with her friend, claiming she needed to make sure she knew what to focus on for the mission. Still, I think it’s because I’ve been consuming a lot of her time, and she wanted some time to hang out with her girlfriend, something I willingly gave her and mentally promised to figure out how to give her more of.

All thoughts of that leave my mind when she opens the door, a wide but tentative grin on her lips as she steps back to let me in. Unlike before the big reveal of her role here, I’ve been in this room a bunch lately, so the mess and the murder board don’t scare me anymore. But the version of Lana before me has me staring at her in utter awe.

Lana is gorgeous—there’s no way around it. Whether she’s in her race suit, a tee and shorts, pajamas, or my shirt, she’s undeniably beautiful. But I’ve never seen her outside of her casual self, and now that I have, it’s utterly heart-stopping. The outfit is still relatively casual: a fitted light purple sundress with frilly edges that stops right above her knees, paired with white sneakers. Perfect, since at the end of the day we’re headed to a racetrack.

But her hair is down in loose curls at the ends of her golden tresses, and her face is done up with makeup I’ve never seen before, making her lips fuller, her eyes wider, and her cheeks a pretty flush. She’s wearing jewelry as well, including a few layered necklaces I’ve never seen before, a pair of twisty hoop earrings, and some bracelets and rings in a mix of silver and gold, as if she just threw on whatever she had. It’s a bit chaotic, but also so perfectly Lana.

“Wow,” I say in awe, and Lana grins.

“She cleans up nice, huh?” Demi asks, pride in her voice as if she were the mastermind behind it all. “I tell her she needs to do it more, keep people on their toes.”

“No,” I say, shaking my head. “No, she’s perfect the way she is. She doesn’t need any help keeping anyone on their toes. I have enough trouble keeping my feet flat on the ground as it is.” Lana rolls her eyes, reaching for her bag, as if annoyed by our back-and-forth, but her lips tip up into a small, contented smile.

“Oh, he is good at this. Unexpected, but shockingly decent at the boyfriend thing,” Demi says. Strangely enough, a sense of pride rushed through me, a light blush burning on my cheeks.

“Okay, come on, lover boy,” Lana says with a small laugh, grabbing my hand and tugging me toward the door.” Let’s get out of here before Demi inflates that big head of yours so you can’t make it through the door.”

“Have fun, kids,” Demi yells. “Stay safe! Rome, she has a midnight curfew, and don’t you try any funny business.” I laugh as Lana pulls me into the hall. The door slams behind her with a loud thud.