Racer

This guy has left me sort of speechless.

“So …” I say, staring in the distance at his beat-up mustang, then at him.

“So …” he says too, in his deep voice, his smile a little more wicked than it was two seconds ago. He glances at my mouth.

Oh god.

Why am I licking my lips?

It only made his eyes narrow and darken.

I open my mouth to speak, failing to find words. He smells like sweat and soap and shampoo, and I feel my traitorous nipples push up to my top again. Why do they do that when he’s around?

“This is illegal,” I state.

His voice is husky from exertion, and his eyes glint with laughter. “That’s why it’s fun.”

I look away from his eyes, trying to focus and clear my head. He leans over and peers into my face, his face shadowed by the moonlight and his jaw now carrying a little scruff. “Are we in agreement?” he presses.

“No.” I glare and shake my head, meeting his cocky gaze. “You’re reckless, Racer.”

“So are you, Alana.”

“It’s just … Lana.”

His brows fly up in surprise. “And a bit of a liar too.”

I purse my lips, still glaring as my gaze goes back to his car. Girls are rubbing against it as if it were him, and I find it disgusting. Why are women always acting so slutty around race car drivers and bad boys?

“You crashed your car,” I say flippantly.

“You crashed my car,” he contradicts, amused.

I laugh, then scowl in his direction. “You crashed it more. I can’t believe you were making such a fuss about me crashing into you when it was just a little kiss—”

He leans in to peck my lips—fast but firmly. “That’s a kiss.”

I lose my breath.

My eyes wide.

He eases back, lips smiling as he comes to his feet and stretches his hand out to take me by the elbow and help me to my feet.

“Let’s get out of here.” He starts walking, leading the way.

“And go where?”

“Anywhere I can get my hands on you.” He’s serious. His hand is sliding into the back of my neck and I feel tiny as he guides me forward by the nape.

“I don’t know what to do with you,” I breathe, looking sideways at his profile.

He smirks, shooting me a sidelong glance. “I know exactly what to do with you.”

I gulp.

He studies me with a growing smirk, his eyes fierce and savage as he tugs me closer and closer to him with that hand. He’s guiding me to the parking lot. To my car. “Have your keys?” he asks.

I nod dumbly and unlock the car.

He eases me into the back of my car, following me in and shutting the door behind me. Suddenly I can smell sweat and warm guy, all too close to me.

He pulls me up a little close to his very hard, muscled side, his eyes trekking up my neck, to my jaw. “I wanted to taste you the second I saw you,” he husks out as he runs his big palm down my arm.

“Why would—”

He leans his dark head, and his tongue is in my mouth.

He touches my lips lightly, moving and parting them beneath his, and I’m going to stop him any second now, except oh my fucking god!

He kisses me for ten seconds, and when we pause for air, I try, I really try, to grab some while I can.

His eyes are really blue, really dark and really beautiful. He’s looking at me in ways I’ve never been stared at before, his eyes trekking my whole face, and for just a second I want to pretend I’m just a girl. I missed the parties, the make-outs, the guys, and suddenly here is this guy and I feel so drawn to him I’m trembling.

He drags me to his lap, and he’s so hard I’m turning to putty in his hands.

He leans over. I stutter when he reaches out and takes a strand of my hair, leaning in. To give me …

The most ferocious kiss I’ve ever been given in my whole life.

“Who the fuck are you, huh?” He covers my face with one hand, and stares down at me, smiling against my mouth, inhaling hard.

“Who the fuck are you?” I breathe.

My wet dream or my worst nightmare?

He presses his mouth to mine, a little more tenderly, sliding his fingers into my hair. He starts to kiss me again, tonguing me really hungrily, as if he needs me to live.

I feel myself melt, my whole body respond and vibrate in the most pleasant ways.

There’s a knock on the window. “Dude. The prize is … ahem. Outside.”

As we hear a guy speak outside, Racer glances past my shoulders at that someone who knocked, then at me with a curl of his lips. “We’ve got spectators. Want to take this somewhere more quiet?” he asks.

“Where?” I ask, breathless.

Horny.

Out of my goddamned mind.

“Somewhere I can have my hands on you nonstop,” is all he says.

I blink, sort of woozy at the idea of it.

He pulls me close, and plants a soft kiss on me—again our tongues hungrily meeting. My eyes shut as I feel myself float in his hot embrace and demanding mouth, then I open my eyes and stare into those gorgeous blue eyes of his.

I need this so much I can’t even breathe. But I manage to whisper, “I have a hotel room.”

His voice is also low, husky with arousal, and his eyes look heavy and half-lowered as he looks at me. “Works for me. I can’t wait to see you in bed, crasher.” He cups the back of my head, nuzzling my face with his nose and jaw before he eases back and looks at me with hot eyes.

He reaches for the door.

We step out of the car and he shelters me from the crowd as he takes my keys, ushers me to the passenger door, then goes around and slides behind the wheel. He ignites the car.