Promise Me Always Read online

  I swallow down my nerves and turn back around. “Hey.” Now that I’m standing in front of him, I don’t know what to say. Why did I come here anyway?

  “Did you need something?” he asks. He seems so different from before. More reserved, quiet.

  “I wanted to apologize for earlier. I’m sorry I made things so tense today at the studio.”

  A grin spreads over his mouth as he leans on the doorframe and crosses his arms over his chest. “How’d that taste coming out? A bit sour, yeah?”

  “What is your problem? I’m trying to be nice here and you’re being an ass. I thought maybe we could call a truce and be friends, but I see now that I was very, very wrong. I’ll see you to—"

  My rant is cut off when he pulls my hand, which had been flying around in the air as I spoke, into his. His mouth crashes into mine, and I gasp from the force of our bodies colliding.

  “I’ll be your friend,” he says into my mouth. “Your kissing friend.”

  “Why can’t I say no to you?” I ask as he pushes the door closed with us on the other side.

  “Same reason I can’t seem to keep away from you, Sugar.” He pulls my mouth back to his, and we both sink into one another.

  We give in to the kiss, letting go and allowing the magnetic pull we have to take over. It’s not fast or frenzied. though. No, it’s soft and seductive. Our lips and tongues making love to one another as our hands learn the shape of the other’s body. His tongue piercing slides and glides against my tongue making everything more sensual. Benton slowly kisses a path from my lips to my ear.

  “Does this mean you’ll share a meal with me now, Sugar?” he whispers into my ear, sending chills down my spine. “You do eat, yeah?”

  “Yes, I eat.”

  “Good. I’m going to need you to keep eating to keep your strength up.”

  “Oh? Why’s that?” I ask with a raised brow.

  “Because I can’t get the image of you lying across my bike out of my head,” he rasps as he kisses my neck. “And soon I’m going to take you for a ride.”

  I start to laugh, and it takes both of us by surprise. He pulls back, watching as the laugh becomes uncontrollable, his own smile widening by the second. Before long, I have tears seeping from my eyes and I’m bent over, crouching on the floor at his feet. I honestly don’t know why I’m laughing so hard. I can’t remember the last time I actually did laugh, never mind this much.

  “You alright down there?” Benton asks with his head tilted to the side, looking at me like he’s seeing me for the first time.

  “Oh, my stomach hurts,” I tell him as I right myself again and wipe the tears from my face. “And my cheeks hurt from smiling. That’s normal, right?”

  “You're serious?”

  “I haven’t laughed like that in… I don’t even know.”

  “Why not? You’re beautiful when you laugh and let go. You should do it more often.”

  “Guess I just haven’t had a reason to,” I say, looking down at my black patent leather heels.

  He lifts my chin to look at him, staring straight into my eyes. “Guess we’ll have to find more reasons then.”

  And just like that, I wanted him to give me all the reasons to laugh.

  We end up watching Tommy Boy—his attempt to get me to laugh more—and ordering room service. He downed a steak dinner while I ate a plate of lettuce disguised as a salad, wishing it was my cheat day. I had a feeling that since we were both staying in the same hotel, the rest of my time here was going to be a lot more fun.

  “I need to get to bed,” I say, reaching for my shoes that I’d thrown to the side of the couch.

  “Bed? It’s barely nine,” he replies around a mouth full of popcorn. I was so jealous of that bag of buttered goodness.

  “I have to be up early to do a photo shoot with some dickhead at the track.” I smile.

  “I’ll show you a dickhead…”

  “Night, Benny.”

  He follows me to the door, kissing me goodnight. I lick the salt from my lips as I walk to my room one floor below his.

  I want to tell myself that this isn’t good, but I have a feeling Lola was right earlier. I need to listen to my heart, and my heart is telling me that Benton is what it needs. I just pray he goes easy when he hurts it.

  When I step out of the car that brought me from hair and make-up to the track for our shoot today, I watch Benton’s jaw literally drop. The corner of my mouth quirks up as I see the fire light in his eyes. I don’t have any expectations of anything from him more than what we’ve already done, but it doesn’t stop me from enjoying how I affect him.

  “Like what you see today, Benny?” I ask, walking to where he stands next to his bike, still staring. He’s in his race leathers and boots. His official bike and helmet sit behind him with the twisty track as our backdrop for the day.

  “That early bedtime did you good, yeah?” he says as he gives me a peck on the cheek to not disturb my lipstick or cause a scene.

  I’m wearing the official Royal King Paddock Girl attire. My outfit consists of a black miniskirt, tight cropped tank with the RK logo stretched across my breasts, and black heeled booties. My hair is down in waves around my shoulders, and my make-up is on point with black winged eyes and red lips to match Benton’s bike.

  Paddock Girls are there to stand by the bikes and racers to help enhance their beauty. We also get the task of holding umbrellas over the racer’s head to shield from sun or rain. It’s a similar job to those in boxing who hold up the signs that read ‘round one’ and such. Paddock Girls change from track to track, but since I’m also the new face of RK, they wanted me to be the Paddock Girl for the race here at The Piston Ring this year.

  “Why does it feel like the air around us isn’t thick with sexual tension anymore?” Dave asks as he begins testing out the light.

  “We made nice,” I respond.

  “More like made-out,” Benton says only loud enough for me to hear.

  “Why are you so juvenile?” I ask, rolling my eyes.

  “Whatever you did, I’m glad. You needed a chainsaw to get through it yesterday,” Dave tells us.

  “We didn’t sleep together,” I blurt out.

  Benton, the ass that he is, starts laughing at me. “Way to play it cool.”

  “Shut up,” I say between gritted teeth.

  “I didn’t… OK,” Dave says as his eyes dance back and forth between us. “Let’s get started!”

  This shoot is much better, and the day flows so much easier than yesterday in the studio. We have both visibly relaxed around each other, and everything feels so much more comfortable and natural. I know these are going to be great shots. We keep going until the sun is setting at our backs, and it begins to feel romantic even.

  “That’s a wrap, you two,” Dave says with a big smile. “These are fantastic!”

  “Can we see some of them?” I ask him. Normally I ask to look at them throughout, but I was so into the day I never stopped to think about it.

  He walks to Benton and me and clicks through a few for us to see. They look amazing! We look fierce together and apart. I know Matthew will be happy with these; they’re even better than the ones he liked from earlier this week. I’m really pleased with all of our work today. Mission accomplished.

  Chapter 5

  Benton

  I haven’t seen Tatum since our photo shoot at the track five days ago. We had gotten some dinner together afterward but then went to our separate rooms and haven’t talked since. I’ve been busy training and testing out my bikes all week. Tensions are high with the crew and my dad, but that’s to be expected with this being my first year racing for them. As much as I like Tatum, I need to stay focused on the task at hand and keep my head in the right place.

  Doesn’t mean I haven’t thought about her, though. I’ve thought about her quite a lot actually. Her laugh, her deep blue eyes, her long, lean legs. I’ve fisted myself almost daily thinking about kissing her again. The vision of her ben
t over my bike or in that damn Paddock Girl outfit is enough to make me blow in 2.5 seconds. But besides that, I’m keeping my mind on the race.

  Today, other race teams have rolled in, and one by one they are all lining up along the track in their designated areas. The garages all full of crews and bikes. It’s no longer the quiet track I’ve grown to love. I’ve met a few of the other riders. Most keep to themselves, some are complete assholes, and others are like me, cocky with a small side of humble.

  One guy, Alfie Bilbo, I’ve grown up racing with back home in London. We’re mates back home, but it’s different being on American soil with a trophy to win between us. Still, I think we’ll be fine. I swing into his racing bay to say hello.

  “Alfie!”

  His face breaks into that signature grin of his. He’s an odd guy but has a heart of gold and a smile that can win anyone over. “Oh, shit, the King is here! Do we all need to bow before you, my lord?” he jokes, bending down on one knee.

  “Get up, you arse,” I laugh as I shake my head at him and his theatrics. “You alright?” I ask as we bump fists.

  “Yeah, you?”

  “Good. You need anything, you let me know, yeah?”

  “Sure, sure. You ready for this?”

  I shrug. “Guess so. Any pointers?”

  “Like I’d tell you,” he scoffs. “Travers is a megabitch if he doesn’t get top pole position. He’s the Frenchy. Otherwise, most aren’t so bad. Moretti and Ricci, the Italians, are like us. They’re mates who grew up racing together, but they take the gloves off on the track. They’re on different teams, and they are crazy to watch.”

  “I’ve watched them. I didn’t know they were friends. Good to know. Thanks.”

  “The Spaniards are both nice enough, but have their moments of assholery, like the rest of us,” he adds with a smile.

  “Delgado and Vargas, yeah?” He nods in agreement.

  We talk for a bit longer, and then I’m off to check back in with my crew, who have been working on my brakes. With all the other teams coming in, the feel around here is so different. It makes me itch to let off some steam on the track. I get the go-ahead to test out the brake change and take off at full speed to make a few laps. I’m at turn six, feeling relaxed and confident again, when someone passes me like we’re in the thick of a race. It throws me off for a second before my anger ignites and I take off to catch him. Number eighty-six, Travers. I should have known.

  We race against each other, feeling the other out, weaving in and out, passing and then being passed. It’s a dance done on the pavement between racers. There’s a symmetry to it, a science even. You have to not only know how to drive and race your own bike, but you have to be able to read others and watch their movements, even the smallest ones. Right now, Travers thinks he’s showing me that he’s the winner in this race but really, he’s showing me all his tells and I’m here to memorize each and every one.

  I exit into my designated bay where my crew is. I’m greeted by my father looking pissed. Pushing up my visor, I give him a big smile.

  “That was the best run yet,” I tell him.

  “Why are you pushing the bike so much already? That was supposed to be a test on the brakes, Benton. Or did you forget?”

  “I was aware. They did well,” I say as I take my helmet off and climb off my bike.

  “Benton! You can’t push like that when we aren’t even sure they’ll work right! What were you thinking? We clocked you at your fastest speed, and as much as I want to say good job, I’m fucking pissed at you for being that risky and foolish.”

  “Sorry.” I shrug. But I’m really not. I learned a lot about my opponent out there, and I wouldn’t change that.

  “Be smart. Be wise. Then, be fast.” Those are the same words I’ve heard my whole life from this man. Before every race, whether in person, on the phone, or in a text, he always said those same words.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Now, how’d she feel?” he asks with a grin splitting his face. This man, he can be a hard-ass, but he also lives for racing. I tell him and the crew about how the adjustments they made to the chassy felt. Things that still feel stiff or lose. Everyone takes their notes and nods as I tell them what I think needs tweaking.

  It’s been a good day as everything falls into place. My blood is pumping, and I’m ready for this race season to start. The fact that it’s kicking off at my home track makes it that much easier for me. I just hope that as it continues, I can keep up with everyone and not let my father or my team and crew down.

  Preliminaries start the day after tomorrow, which means tonight is my last chance to drink for a few days. I’m not a big drinker, but when I start to feel stressed or pressure from those around me, I like to unwind with a couple of beers. After the last few days with everyone arriving and the heightened tension with my father, tonight I’m drinking.

  I knock on Tatum’s door, unsure if she’s even here. I wait for an answer, then knock a second time. I think I hear music inside, so I’m pretty sure she’s in there. After a minute, the bolt is unlatched and the door opens. She stands there with a black film on her face and a fluffy robe around her with her hair twisted up in a towel on top of her head.

  “I like the new look, Sugar. That just for me?” I ask as I push my way inside.

  She responds with her signature eyeroll. “It’s my usual regime. I have to be ready for race day. You forget that I make my money from this,” she says, circling her face with her hand to show what she means.

  “I wouldn’t go looking like that.”

  She smacks my shoulder. “Asshole.”

  “I need a drink. You want to join me?” I decide to cut to the chase.

  “I don’t drink,” she says from the bathroom. I follow her voice and see her peeling the black stuff off her face like she’s a snake shedding a layer of skin. I watch in utter fascination as she finishes and then rubs lotion after lotion over her face, eyes, and neck.

  “Come on. I’d really like you to join me. We can even just raid the minibar if you don’t want to go out.”

  “You can do that and I can sit and laugh at you, but I don’t drink anything unless it’s water.”

  “Buzzkill,” I mutter.

  “Look, I’m sorry, but that’s not my thing anymore. As I said, you’re welcome to stay and hang here if you want. But I get it if you want to go out with your friends or whatever.”

  “What friends? Have you not picked up on the accent? I’m not exactly from around here,” I say, opening the minibar to evaluate what’s available.

  “I have, but your dad lives here. I don’t know, I guess I didn’t really think about it,” she answers honestly.

  “It’s fine. My mate Alfie is here now. He’s racing with Aprilia, but I’d rather hang with you,” I tell her, and when I look up, she has her foot on the counter and is rubbing another lotion on her bare leg. I would definitely rather be here. The room instantly fills with the smell I’ve come to love. It smells like chocolate and vanilla and Tatum. Sugar.

  “Is he staying here, too?” she asks, referring to the hotel where we are both currently living.

  “I’m not entirely sure.”

  “He can come here and hang with us if you want, but I’m not getting ready and going out.”

  “He most certainly is not coming here to hang with us,” I tell her, probably a little too sternly.

  “O... K…” she says, moving to the other leg.

  I need to stop watching her, but I can’t seem to look away. Her silky-looking skin is begging to be touched, and I guarantee she doesn’t have anything on under that robe. My cock is hard and pressing against my zipper. I shift in an attempt to discreetly adjust myself, but I get caught in the act when she looks at me in the mirror.

  “Sorry,” I mumble, turning away from her and back into the room where it’s safer.

  “Oh, Benny, don’t get shy on me now,” she teases me.

  “Sugar, you are begging to be spanked if you keep that
up.” I close my eyes and instantly regret not thinking before I spoke.

  The door to the bathroom closes but is still open just a crack. I can see her reflection in the mirror and watch as the robe falls to the floor, exposing her naked, perfect body underneath. My eyes bug, my cock twitches, and I stare for a second too long before I turn around.

  A few minutes later when Tatum exits the bathroom, dressed, I have downed two bottles of liquor from her minibar. As much as I want to stay, I’m not sure if I should. I know if I do, I’m going to want to kiss her and touch her and do a lot of things to her. I just don’t think she wants to do those things with me.

  “You want to order food and watch a movie?” she asks me, reaching for a bottled water and pressing her chest against my back. It is taking every fiber in my being to not throw her on the bed and rip her clothes back off.

  “Sure,” I rasp out.

  We order dinner and decide on Talladega Nights to watch for inspiration for the race. We eat in silence, with the exception of our laughter here and there. But once we finish eating, Tatum snuggles up into my side.

  She is soft and warm and fits against me perfectly. I wrap my arm around her, my fingers playing with the ends of her hair. After a few minutes, she snuggles in closer, and before I know it, her hand is tracing my abs under my shirt. Damn, this girl is going to be the death of me.

  I look down at her and see that she’s watching me, not the movie. Our eyes meet and in an instant, our mouths connect. It’s quick and frenzied, and when we pull apart, we’re both panting, staring once again, not knowing what to do next.

  “I don’t know what I’m doing with you,” she confesses.

  “That makes two of us, Sugar.” I smile at her as I lace our fingers together.

  And just like that, the tension in my body is gone. Not from drinking it away or from fucking a nameless girl. No, it’s gone because I kissed her.

  We don’t kiss again or do anything more than hold each other as we finish our movie. When it’s over, I press my lips to her forehead and quietly slip out from under her sleeping body. Once I make my way up to my room, I take a shower and think of her as I fist my cock. The last of my tension leaves my body and washes down the drain.