Running Hot: Track Domination, #2

By Megan Slayer

All work and white-hot play makes this boss very, very happy.

 

Collin Marshall, owner of Flash Racing hadn't planned on jumping back into the dating pool. He's been burned one too many times by guys only wanting his money and relative fame. But even the boss gets the blues and there's one man he'd like to get to know a whole lot better--Sam Richmond.

 

Sam Richmond loves his job at Flash. Chief mechanic for both truck teams is a sweet job. Having Collin as eye candy? Even better. When a shipment of parts derails the team's finishes at Iowa, it's up to Sam to work with Collin to find a solution. Spending time with Collin forces Sam to see his boss in a new light--a sexy, dominant light.

 

Can these two continue running hot in and out of bed, or will their differences get the best of them?

 

This book has been re-edited for this re-issue.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Megan Slayer
• Release date: Jun 25, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393355533

Megan Slayer

Megan Slayer, aka Wendi Zwaduk, is a multi-published, award-winning author of more than one-hundred short stories and novels. She’s been writing since 2008 and published since 2009. Her stories range from the contemporary and paranormal to LGBTQ and BDSM themes. No matter what the length, her works are always hot, but with a lot of heart. She enjoys giving her characters a second chance at love, no matter what the form. She’s been the runner up in the Kink Category at Love Romances Café as well as nominated at the LRC for best author, best contemporary, best ménage and best anthology. Her books have made it to the bestseller lists on Amazon.com. When she’s not writing, Megan spends time with her husband and son as well as three dogs and three cats. She enjoys art, music and racing, but football is her sport of choice.

Book preview

Chapter One

JUST ONCE I’D LIKE one of our engines to run right on the first firing. Jesus. Sam Richmond pounded his hand on the fender of the race truck. He glanced over the non-working piece of machinery. Nothing looked out of place, but what the hell did he know? He’d only been the crew chief of the seventy-two truck for three weeks and head mechanic for the past four years with Flash Racing. He prided himself on producing trucks ready to hit the track at a moment’s notice. Except today. The backup truck wasn’t right.

Chill out, Sam. Adam, his fellow crew chief, gripped Sam’s shoulder. Did you reuse an engine?

Sam shook his head. No. The last time we did that, the cam shaft busted during practice. Remember the fiasco at Kentucky?

Hard to forget Ethan smashing our main truck before we qualified. He managed to trash the backup truck midway through the race. Yeah, not good. Adam sighed. Well, either the factory sent you bent pushrods or the engine is off sync. He wiped his hands on a shop rag. I’m thinking it’s a bad part. I had the same issue on Will’s truck. Sucked.

A factory defect made sense. Sam rolled his shoulders. Thanks, Adam. He snorted. Once Adam and Will had sorted out their issues, they’d become the team to beat on track. Then the accident had happened. How’s Will holding up?

Driving me nuts wanting to get back into the truck. He’s cleared to race, but Collin and I decided waiting wasn’t such a bad idea. Adam folded his arms and widened his stance. He’ll be ready for Iowa this weekend. Your boy worked out in the meantime, but you’d better put your foot up his ass. Someone should. He’s got a real ego on him.

He does think he knows everything about everything, even if he’s green and so wet behind the ears he’s still in the fucking pool. The tension between them eased, and Sam sank down on the nearest stool. I’ll get him worked out—or rather, Corey will. I hate to say it, but once Ethan gets out there a little more and gets knocked around, he’ll earn respect and settle down. Corey has the temperament to deal with him. I’d rather build solid race trucks.

You did a good job with him, but I see why everyone got moved. He and Corey will work better together, and yeah, I missed having trucks you personally prepared. Adam slid his beeping phone from his pocket. His brow knotted. Damn, man, it’s after midnight. No wonder Will wanted to know where I’m at. Go home. Get some rest. The truck will still be here tomorrow, and I guarantee Collin won’t fire you. He might rough you up a bit, but something tells me you’d like it. He winked then shoved the phone in his pocket. I’m outta here. Later.

Sam wanted to growl at Adam for his comment. He wanted to, but instead, he kept his mouth shut. He’d been told once before that a submissive could spot another sub a mile away. Truth? He wasn’t sure, but Sam would never tell Adam he was right. Part of him wanted Collin Marshall to notice him as more than a worker, more than a mechanic. But then what? The no inter-office dating had sort of blown out the window the moment Will and Adam had collided. At least, they’d gotten married. What had he done? Nothing more than pined over his boss, the one man totally disinterested in him.

Fan-fucking-tastic. Sam tossed his rag onto the workbench then rubbed the back of his neck. A knot of tension had built between his shoulder blades. A massage would be nice, but a round or two with a Dom would be better. But he didn’t trust the clubs in town—not when anyone could figure out what he did for a living and potentially use his kinks against him. Would Collin care? Probably not, but he refused to find out what would happen. Screw it. He’d go home like he did most nights and whack off.

Footsteps thumped on the concrete floor behind him. Sam swiveled on the stool, ready to tell Adam to get the fuck home. Instead, his breath wrenched from his chest. Collin grinned and strode toward him.

Working late again? Another fucked up part? Collin rested his hands on his hips. I’ve got to call the manufacturer. This is bullshit.

Sam nodded. He heard Collin’s every word, but the man blew him away. Most owners didn’t exude the same power as Collin. From his salon haircut to the couture scuffs on his loafers, the guy’s look screamed money and attention to fashion. In the five years Sam had known Collin, other men had gone completely gray or bald. Not Collin. The same perfect amount of salt and pepper colored his dark-brown hair. The shirt he wore, a button down with the sleeves rolled up, accentuated the muscles in his chest and the fact Collin worked out. Sam suppressed a groan. He shouldn’t be checking out his boss. Shouldn’t be interested in the way his khaki pants clung to his lanky frame or wonder how it would feel to run his fingers through Collin’s hair.

Are you okay? Collin waved his hand in front of Sam’s face. You look like you’re miles away.

A stiff,