Doesn’t make you any less female.”
“I know that.” Kendall climbed onto her car, feet on the fender. “Damn, this hood’s cold. I do know that. I can wear a dress and feel feminine after an afternoon in the garage. By the way, transmission fluid makes an excellent conditioner, which I found out after letting half my head get soaked by accident. My hair was soft for a month.”
Evan laughed. “I’ll keep that in mind. So what’s the problem then? So you straddle two worlds, two traditional ideas of gender roles. A lot of women do.”
“It’s not like I want to be a guy, or even one of the guys. I just want gender to not matter.”
“Well, guess what? It does. So just own it. Use being a hot chick to your advantage.”
Kendall sighed. She wasn’t even sure what was bothering her, really. She was just tired of always fighting to get ahead and then feeling like it had been handed to her out of pity or curiosity because she was a woman. But intellectually she knew no one was handed a damn thing in this sport. She had earned it, or she wouldn’t have it.
She also knew Evan had a point. She could rail against the ways of the world all she wanted or she could learn to live with it. “When did you get to be so smart?”
“What? I always thought you were a hot chick.”
One glance over at him told her he had known exactly what she had meant and it wasn’t about her looks. But if he couldn’t take a compliment, she could. “Oh, yeah? Am I a super hot chick?”
“Definitely. Because you’re the chick who can look beautiful in a dress, who can be a lady, yet at the same time is not afraid to get down and dirty. You like speed, and that is so goddamn sexy.”
Kendall went still on the hood of her Vette. That was how she saw herself, a girl definitely, yet a girl who liked to drive fast and get her hands dirty. That Evan saw that so clearly and thought it was sexy was, well, hot. He was hot. She’d always thought he was damned attractive, and here in the chill night air, in the silence of the empty track, with him looking at her like he thought she was the only woman who had ever existed on the planet, she wanted him the way she hadn’t wanted a man since she was eighteen.
It had been him then and it was him now. Which was a very strange and overwhelming feeling.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
“No. Thank you.” He leaned closer to her. “I’m going to kiss you again and you have about ten seconds to stop me.”
Throwing caution to the wind in her personal life wasn’t usually Kendall’s style. Really not even on the track. She was methodical and aggressive, but not impulsive or a daredevil. But at the moment, she was perfectly willing to toss over common sense and let Evan Monroe lay his lips on hers just one more time.
“I’m not going to stop you.”
“Hallelujah.”
She didn’t. In fact, Kendall leaned forward and eliminated that final sliver of air between them.
God, he felt so good. He was warm and strong and familiar, even after all these years. It was like her body, her senses, her heart remembered every taste, touch, scent of his, knew how they fit together.
And fit together well, they did. One touch of their mouths, one brush of a kiss, and Evan had pulled her closer, practically onto his lap on the hood, his lips claiming hers with hard, demanding kisses that took her breath away and took the chill right out of her body.
“God, you feel good,” he said, his hands rushing over her sides, down to her thighs, her backside.
Kendall had nothing to say in response, her mind a total blank, filled with nothing but desire and raw need, so she let her actions do all the talking. She plunged her tongue into his mouth, her own hands gripping the lapels of his shirt, her breath hot and anxious, one leg hooking over his. She kissed him with all her pent-up frustration, ten years’ worth of sadness and worry and anger over how she thought he had perceived her. She kissed him out of
“I know that.” Kendall climbed onto her car, feet on the fender. “Damn, this hood’s cold. I do know that. I can wear a dress and feel feminine after an afternoon in the garage. By the way, transmission fluid makes an excellent conditioner, which I found out after letting half my head get soaked by accident. My hair was soft for a month.”
Evan laughed. “I’ll keep that in mind. So what’s the problem then? So you straddle two worlds, two traditional ideas of gender roles. A lot of women do.”
“It’s not like I want to be a guy, or even one of the guys. I just want gender to not matter.”
“Well, guess what? It does. So just own it. Use being a hot chick to your advantage.”
Kendall sighed. She wasn’t even sure what was bothering her, really. She was just tired of always fighting to get ahead and then feeling like it had been handed to her out of pity or curiosity because she was a woman. But intellectually she knew no one was handed a damn thing in this sport. She had earned it, or she wouldn’t have it.
She also knew Evan had a point. She could rail against the ways of the world all she wanted or she could learn to live with it. “When did you get to be so smart?”
“What? I always thought you were a hot chick.”
One glance over at him told her he had known exactly what she had meant and it wasn’t about her looks. But if he couldn’t take a compliment, she could. “Oh, yeah? Am I a super hot chick?”
“Definitely. Because you’re the chick who can look beautiful in a dress, who can be a lady, yet at the same time is not afraid to get down and dirty. You like speed, and that is so goddamn sexy.”
Kendall went still on the hood of her Vette. That was how she saw herself, a girl definitely, yet a girl who liked to drive fast and get her hands dirty. That Evan saw that so clearly and thought it was sexy was, well, hot. He was hot. She’d always thought he was damned attractive, and here in the chill night air, in the silence of the empty track, with him looking at her like he thought she was the only woman who had ever existed on the planet, she wanted him the way she hadn’t wanted a man since she was eighteen.
It had been him then and it was him now. Which was a very strange and overwhelming feeling.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
“No. Thank you.” He leaned closer to her. “I’m going to kiss you again and you have about ten seconds to stop me.”
Throwing caution to the wind in her personal life wasn’t usually Kendall’s style. Really not even on the track. She was methodical and aggressive, but not impulsive or a daredevil. But at the moment, she was perfectly willing to toss over common sense and let Evan Monroe lay his lips on hers just one more time.
“I’m not going to stop you.”
“Hallelujah.”
She didn’t. In fact, Kendall leaned forward and eliminated that final sliver of air between them.
God, he felt so good. He was warm and strong and familiar, even after all these years. It was like her body, her senses, her heart remembered every taste, touch, scent of his, knew how they fit together.
And fit together well, they did. One touch of their mouths, one brush of a kiss, and Evan had pulled her closer, practically onto his lap on the hood, his lips claiming hers with hard, demanding kisses that took her breath away and took the chill right out of her body.
“God, you feel good,” he said, his hands rushing over her sides, down to her thighs, her backside.
Kendall had nothing to say in response, her mind a total blank, filled with nothing but desire and raw need, so she let her actions do all the talking. She plunged her tongue into his mouth, her own hands gripping the lapels of his shirt, her breath hot and anxious, one leg hooking over his. She kissed him with all her pent-up frustration, ten years’ worth of sadness and worry and anger over how she thought he had perceived her. She kissed him out of
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