“What.”

“Go out to dinner with me.”

“Is this why you wanted me on? Are you inviting me out during a race?”

“Yeah, and I’m going to win again.”

I smile.

“Lana,” he prods.

Silence.

“Crasher …” He warns, sounding a little cocky. “You go out with me and you’ll never look back. I swear, baby.”

“Yes,” I breathe. “Yes, I’ll go to dinner with you,” I say.

Racer

She stayed in my room. Hell if I got any sleep at all. I counted her damn freckles.

Stroked my hand down her back feeling every bump of her spine. Savored her smell like nobody’s business. Fucking ready for the next round when she shifts against me.

She stirs awake, the sheets tangled at our feet, both of us bare fuck naked and my cock is quick to remind me. She starts upright and seems to panic, glancing around the room. “What time is it?”

“It’s an off day,” I rasp out, taking in her tangled hair and her kiss-swollen lips with pure male pride.

“I probably need to get my dad some breakfast,” she says, rolling to the edge of the bed to dial his room.

“Daddy!” she says when he picks up. “Good morning. Have you had breakfast?”

I head over to the bathroom to pee and brush my teeth while I listen to her telling her dad she’s going to rest for a bit. As I brush my teeth, I take in her reflection in the mirror while she sits on the bed, the sheets at her waist with her tits poking out, her eyes trailing over my ass and admiring the tattoo of my initials with pure feminine lust because she thinks I’m not looking.

Her eyes widen when our eyes connect in the mirror, and I feel my lips pull up as I wash off my toothbrush, spit out the rest of my toothpaste, and head back into the room feeling very, very hungry and damn possessive of her.

She is, after all, the girl I want to spend the rest of my life with.

Also, and this must be said: she’s the loveliest thing I’ve ever seen.

She shudders on the bed as if she can feel the heat inside me already, pulling the sheet up to her tits.

Her eyes drift down my chest, along my pecs, my ab muscles, down to my very hard cock.

She licks her lips. “Do we have more condoms?” She sounds breathless as she speaks, flushing head to toe as if my mouth hadn’t sucked on those pretty little nipples of hers all night long.

“Nightstand. Or maybe my duffel.” I lean over to check the nightstand while Lana wraps the sheets around her and leaps off the bed to search my duffel. “What are these for?” I hear her ask a moment later.

Glancing past my shoulder as I shut the drawer, I raise my brows and stare at the orange bottle in her hand.

My goddamned lithium pills.

For a moment, I just stare at her, my voice gruff and low. “Emergencies.”

“What kind of emergencies?”

Silence.

I grab them and toss them back into the duffel.

“Come on. Tell me. What are they for? Nothing came out in your physical,” she says.

She frowns at me as she comes back to bed, clutching the sheets to her chest.

I sit down on the side of the bed and drag a hand over the back of my neck, shifting to look at her.

“Racer!” she says.

Yeah, this isn’t how I planned to break it to her.

“I’m manic-depressive,” I husk out.

For a fraction of a second, she doesn’t move.

It feels like it takes a moment for her to piece it together. She stares in puzzlement, and for a second, I dread the look in her eyes changing.

It doesn’t.

They shine in concern. I’m used to lust, but concern from a girl other than my mother and sister? No.

“Manic depressive is …”

“Bipolar,” I say, softly.

“But your physical …”

“It’s not active right now.” I shake my head, clenching my hands at my sides in frustration. This is definitely not how I planned to do this. Fuck me.

“When is it active?”

“I don’t know. Randomly. I haven’t figured out my triggers yet.” I watch her look at me, those gorgeous eyes showing every emotion on her face. Concern, puzzlement, worry.

“So, what is it like? How do you feel when …” She trails off, staring at me.

“Sometimes on top of the world. Sometimes at the bottom, scraping to get up,” I admit.

Those eyes of hers?

Fuck, they’re killing me.

The concern there, the genuine shock and emotion there. I stroke a hand down the back of her head. “I’m okay,” I husk.

“Are you?”

“Fuck yes.” I grin.

But those eyes start to water now. She drops her face and swallows.

I curse softly and reach out to pull her closer to me.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asks. The hurt in her voice nearly cuts me open.

I rake my hands through my hair, shaking my head as a shit-ton of frustration hits me where it damn hurts. “Come on, Lana. Why do you think?”

She looks away, and I can’t fucking have that. I curse under my breath and seize her shoulders.

“Lana,” I say, low but firm. “Look at me.”

She squeezes her eyes shut and presses her cheek to my hand as if she needs my touch for balance. But it fucking unbalances me. Never felt pity for me. Too many good things in my life. I leave that for an episode when it all comes flooding me. But seeing her pain for me cuts me deep, and for a second, I wonder if I’m fucking selfish to want her.

If she wouldn’t be better off without me.