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My throat was sore from my screaming while Axel dominated the track. I jumped, my arms punching the air when he crossed the finish line in first place. He won! So proud and overwhelmed by emotions, I pressed my hands over my mouth, tears filling my eyes, while he took his victory lap. He’d done it. He’d actually come from the back andwon!
Troy grabbed my arm. “Come on, honey. You can’t miss the big moment of this. He’s gonna want you there.”
Hustling down from Pressure Racing’s luxury seating, we passed security then joined the phalanx of people waiting for Axel at victory lane. I had no idea who they all were, though I recognized his team at the wall, ready to mob him when he exited the car.
I stood at the end of the throng, watching Axel do his burnout on the front stretch in a billowing cloud of smoke. As soon as the car stopped, he jumped out of his car. His crew surged over the wall. Someone handed him the flag and Axel ran toward the fence, waving the checkered and celebrating with the fans.
My smile stretched so wide my cheeks hurt, my hands clasped to my chest while I watched, my chest practically busting with pride for him.
As soon as he turned, his crew converged on him, and he was lost in a sea of bodies. Near me I heard a reporter talking excitedly into a camera, recapping Axel’s drama and expounding on how he’d triumphed, winning the Daytona for the second consecutive year.
Everything was a blur as the car made its way to Victory Lane then Axel was there. Confetti and champagne foam flew. In the midst of it, his head emerged above the celebrating throng. He scanned the crowd gathered there. Our eyes met, and his lips curled into a sexy smile he only gave me. Troy gave me a small push.
“Go on, honey. He wants to celebrate with you, too.”
I took off running toward him. Axel broke free of those surrounding him and caught me as I slammed into him.
“You did it! You did it!” I cried. “You won!”
“I won.” He kissed me hard. “Kicked their ass.”
He didn’t have to say whotheywere. I knew. And he sure had!
“I’m so proud of you,” I told him as he slid me back to my feet, my body still crushed against his sweaty, kinda stinky frame while his powerful arms banded around me. I didn’t even care. I brushed my fingers over his damp hair. “You were amazing.”
“It was so much better, knowing you were here. I love you,” he growled, his adrenaline roughening his voice, and I knew tonight would be wild when we got into bed. If we even made it to the bed. There was no adrenaline like victory adrenaline.
“I love you, too. Always.”
“Marry me?” he asked me.Again. A cocky grin quirked his lips. “On purpose this time.”
I laughed. “Yes, of course, yes.”
A flash to our side told me this was all getting caught in photos. I didn’t care about that, either. I especially didn’t care about media when Axel leaned in and kissed me. The hard but chaste press sent a sizzle burning through me. Full of promise, it wasn’t nearly enough, but it couldn’t be as passionate right here.
“Go,” I said quietly. “Go give your speeches. Do all the sponsor pictures and media interviews. We’ll celebrate later.”
A spark of mischief filled his eyes, and he leaned in to whisper in my ear, not letting anyone see the movement of his mouth and perhaps lipread his naughty words. “I’m putting a baby in you tonight. You want that?”
I closed my eyes, my breath shuddering as a chill ran through me—but it was a good chill, a shiver of anticipation and a beacon of approval. Years ago, I would have said no, but time had healed my pain enough to move on. And this wasn’t out of the blue. We’d had extended talks about it over the past days.
That didn’t dull the thrill that shivered through me, landing like a fiery arrow in my core. Damn him for getting me all aroused. On purpose. When we couldn’t do anything about it.
“Yes,” I whispered. I wanted a child with Axel more than anything. God knew, we’d had enough unprotected sex that I could be pregnant already.
“Are you wet now?” he asked, whispering in my ear again. I knew we were on borrowed time, but I couldn’t break away from this interlude just yet. After all this time, we deserved a moment.
“Maybe,” I teased coyly.
He pulled back, laughing. “You are.”
I made a face at him before moving away. “Get to work.”
I didn’t get far. I was tugged back to his side while my man was given his trophy, a heavy replica of the original Harley J. Earl Trophy. His crew chief received the Cannonball Baker Trophy, and Troy was handed the Governor’s Cup—things I only knew because they were announced as they were presented.
As soon as pictures were snapped, Axel handed off his prize and pulled me in for another quick kiss.
“Go work,” I repeated, laughing.
