Page 70 of Octane

The first is from our team photo after the Vegas race. She came in tenth after a long and hard race, and I was so damn proud of her. Best of all, she was finally proud of herself. That smile she has in this photo— there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do to make sure it never leaves her face again.

The second picture is a candid shot of her in the bar after that same race. Her tight mini skirt and sheer, black blouse was enough to do me in. But those heels she had on. MyGod. She caught the attention of every guy in the room. Every girl, too. It took all I had not to lay her across the bar and show everyone that she was mine.

The last picture of her that I took was of the two of us, curled up together in bed. The sheets were a mess, and we brought new meaning to the word bedhead. The picture is raw. It’s real.

I think about how strong my feelings for her have become after such a short time. It’s not unheard of to fall in love so quickly. Hell, I’ve been through enough shit to know exactly the kind of person I want to be with.

Sawyer is it.

I’m looking forward to having a few extra days at home before having to go back on the road again.

Needing to talk to her, I pull up my text messaging app and send her a message.

Me: Do you need any help in the shower?

Sawyer Stone: If you come here, we’ll never make it to dinner. Then what will the guys think?

Me: Touché…

Sawyer Stone: What time are we meeting for dinner again?

Jackson Powell: We’re meeting in the lobby at 6:30, but feel free to come to my room for an appetizer before that if you’d like.

I smile as I send the message, and picture the shy grin she’ll have on her face when she reads it.

Sawyer Stone: Again, we’ll never make it. But here…

She sends a picture of her in the bathroom mirror. My cock gets hard immediately, taking in the sight of her in only her panties with an arm covering her tits.

Fuck me.

Jackson Powell: That is so not cool.

Sawyer Stone: See you at 6:30. Try not to think about me too much while you’re waiting.

I wasn’t planning on showering before dinner, since I hadn’t spent hours getting sweaty in a racing suit like my drivers did. However, after seeing that picture, I’m going to need a cold shower if I expect to make it through dinner.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

SAWYER

Imake it out of the shower in enough time to get dressed and make sure my hair and makeup are just perfect. With a few minutes left to spare, I hear a knock on my door. Jackson’s impatience makes me smile.

“You just couldn’t wait—” the smile is torn from my face, and I feel like I’ve just been punched in the stomach when I see that it’s not Jackson on the other side of the door, but Daniel.

“What’s wrong, Sawyer? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

I scream and throw the door closed, but I’m not quick enough. Daniel’s foot keeps it from closing all the way, and in a flash, he’s got his arms around me, and his hand is covering my mouth. I scream again, but I may as well have been whispering for as stifled as it is.

“Shh, no screaming. I’m not going to hurt you.”

I don’t believe him for a second. He kicks the door shut behind us, and when he sniffs my hair, my stomach drops.

“Oh, Sawyer… I’ve missed your scent around the condo. It’s just not the same without you there.”

Why would he come here? My body trembles with fear at his touch, and the way the spice in his cologne assaults my nostrils makes my stomach turn sour.

“I have a business proposition for you, and I needed to make sure I had your full attention while I deliver my pitch.” I try shouting and struggle to get out of his hold while he’s talking, but he’s gripping me too tightly.

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