A Race for Redemption
A powerful conglomerate, Powell Industries has entered the world of stock car racing. It isn’t too risky an endeavor since the CEOs daughter’s favorite things are driving fast and fast cars. As beautiful as she is driven, Tracey Powell is one of the most talented drivers on the circuit. However, a string of wrecks has caused her father to make a change. Now her former trainer is driving the Powell industries car. Determined to reclaim her place behind the wheel, Tracey battles her way back. Now Tracey’s not only looking to be the first African American woman to bring home the trophy—she’s also looking for Redemption.
Shane Westbrook has been the reigning champion five years running. His life is grand as a result. He has everything: money, respect, and all the women he could want. The trouble is that he doesn’t want just any woman. He wants the one woman who walked away—Tracey. With the last two races coming up he knows Tracey is thinking about winning. The race is on—the prize has yet to be determined.
“What happened on the track today? Are you okay?” He asked, as he walked over to her and took the towel from around her head. He tilted her jaw first to one side, then the other, looking into her eyes as if he were a doctor or something. “Why aren’t you answering me?”
“Probably, because you haven’t given me a chance to answer yet,” she said, finding her voice at last. “What are you doing here? And why are you angry with me?”
“Never mind that. Are you hurt?”
“No.” She wouldn’t tell him that she’d been scared out of her mind. She’d keep that bit of information to herself.
“Good. Come here.” Her supposed rival, Shane Westbrook, pulled her into the circle of his arms and brought his mouth down to hers. Her lips parted voluntarily, allowing his tongue access.
Tracey’s arms instantly encircled his neck, causing her towel to drop to the floor. She felt his groan of appreciation as he deepened the kiss, grasping her hips, lifting her up off the floor and more intimately into him. Without missing a beat, he walked with her over to the bed and placed her on it—with him on top of her—their lips still locked in a passionate kiss. His legs parted her naked thighs—his cock coming into contact with her center—her juices wetting the front of his jeans.
Tracey couldn’t believe this was happening. That it was real. Yet the thickness between her legs assured her that it was. Her hips gyrated against him. He growled his satisfaction into her mouth.
“I am definitely overdressed,” he whispered against her lips, before lifting up off of her. He removed his clothes swiftly, and joined her back on the bed before she could voice her objections.
She looked at him as he undressed, enjoying the view of his toned body, sun-streaked, short, brownish blond hair, and blue eyes. His long, thick erection, bobbed up and down amidst a triangle of short curls a shade darker than his hair. As much as she wanted all of him inside of her, in her heart of hearts, she knew it would be wrong.
“From the look in those beautiful dark eyes of yours, I can tell you are having second thoughts. Don’t,” he ordered. “This is going to happen, Tracey.”
“We can’t,” she murmured.
“We can and we will,” he said sternly, before taking her lips again in a mind-blowing kiss.
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