Chapter 15
CHAPTER 15
Nash
S leep is nowhere to be found. I’ve been staring at Bex’s ceiling for what feels like hours, her soft breathing a quiet reminder of the peace I can’t seem to grasp. My mind keeps looping back to tomorrow—my first time behind the wheel on the test track. The pressure to perform is suffocating.
I can’t mess this up, not after everything.
I stare at Bex in the moonlight, resisting the urge to snuggle into her. Not that I’m averse to snuggling. We did just that for a few hours upon collapsing into a sweaty mess after our second round of lovemaking tonight. I’d brought dinner as planned—fish and chips from a local restaurant—but it went cold because as soon as I walked in her door, she was kissing me and well… I kissed her back.
Then I fucked her.
Twice, and it was so goddamned good that I know deep in my heart I won’t be able to give this up. Not the way things are in this moment.
But right now… I need something different and there’s only one place I want to be.
Sliding out of bed as silently as possible, I grab my clothes and slip into the bathroom to change. Bex doesn’t stir and moments later, I’m out the door, on my way to headquarters.
The evening air is cold, sharp, and it clears my head a bit as I drive. Guildford is quiet this time of night, and my destination looms ahead, the Titans Racing logo lit up like a beacon on the side of the massive glass, concrete and steel structure.
My destination within is planned.
I know exactly where I’m going—the simulator.
Once inside, I navigate the darkened corridors, not a single person to greet me other than the night watchman. The simulator bay is empty and dark, but with a flick of a switch, it comes to life. The giant contraption looms like a beast under the bright lights. It’s a cutting-edge piece of tech, designed to replicate the real-world experience of driving an FI car. It’s built around a full-size cockpit, mounted on a motion platform that shifts and tilts to mimic the forces of acceleration, braking and cornering. High-definition screens wrap around it, giving a three-hundred-sixty-degree view of whatever circuit you’re running. In fact, it’s so realistic, you can feel the subtle changes in grip or the snap of oversteer, making it invaluable for both driver training and testing car setups in a controlled, risk-free environment.
But I’m not here for data analysis or telemetry. This is only about me, the car and the track so I can have a perfect run tomorrow.
I boot up the system, the soft hum of machinery filling the space. I know enough to load the Silvercrest Circuit, choosing a race setup close to what I’ll have on the track. It’s not perfect and without the engineers, I won’t get real-time feedback. No sector splits, tire degradation models, or engine performance metrics. But I don’t need all that right now. I just need to feel the car beneath me, to find my rhythm before I get out there for real.
The screen lights up, the virtual Silvercrest track stretching out before me. I strap in, grip the steering wheel, and take a deep breath.
“All right, Nash. Let’s do this,” I mutter, pressing the throttle.
The first few laps are shaky. The car feels twitchy through the high-speed corners, and I overshoot the braking zones more times than I care to admit. “Damn it,” I grumble, adjusting my line as I approach Turn 9. “Focus.”
Lap after lap, I start to settle in. The sweeping left of Turn 11 feels smoother, the tricky braking point at Turn 13 no longer catches me off guard. I talk myself through each corner like I’m coaching someone else.
Brake earlier here. Power out… good. That’s better. Tighten it up.
I’m so focused, I don’t notice the door opening behind me. It’s not until I hear a familiar voice that I realize I’m no longer alone.
“Couldn’t sleep, huh?”
Startled, I glance over my shoulder to see Bex standing in the doorway, her arms crossed, her expression a mix of amusement and concern.
“How’d you find me?” I ask, slowing the car to a stop.
She steps up to the platform, the light catching the golden highlights in her hair, which is pulled up into a messy bun. She didn’t bother with her contacts, instead her large, black-framed glasses perch on her nose, making her look even smarter than the genius I know her to be. “You’re predictable,” she says with a chuckle. “You used to do this all the time at Bauer… late-night practice sessions. I woke up, saw you were gone, and figured you’d be here.”
I like that she didn’t automatically think I’d bailed on her to go back to my own place. I want her to know that when I stay the night, I’m all in for staying the night.
Unless I want extra practice.
I shake my head with a smirk. “You know me too well.”
Bex walks over, scanning the screens. “Are you running Melbourne or Silvercrest?”
“Silvercrest.”
She glances at me. “Why? Your simulator runs have been so good. You’re ready, you know.”
“I know. But I like the repetition.”
“Yeah, I know,” she murmurs fondly, her gaze back on the screens. “Want some help?”
“Don’t you need the crew of engineers to run it all?”
She shrugs. “I can give you some basic feedback.” She pulls up a stool and starts fiddling with one of the auxiliary panels. “You’re not getting real-time telemetry, but I can give you lap times, sector comparisons, maybe a little advice.”
I stare at her a long moment, my chest swelling with tenderness. She’s the Bex who was my biggest fan, always wanting me to be the best I could be because she knew it was important. “All right. Let’s do it.”
I restart the session and the car roars to life. Bex watches the monitors intently as I tackle the first sector, her voice cutting in occasionally.
“You’re wide on Turn 3. Tuck in tighter—clip the apex earlier.”
I adjust, feeling the difference immediately. “Better?”
“Much,” she replies. “Your exit speed is up by three-tenths.”
Lap after lap, we fall into a rhythm. Her voice becomes my guide, her calm, analytical tone a counterpoint to the adrenaline coursing through me. She points out my weak spots, praises my improvements, and when I nail a sector perfectly, she doesn’t hold back.
“Beautiful line through Turn 11,” she exclaims with a joyful laugh, and I can’t help but grin.
“Not bad for an insomniac, huh?”
“Not bad at all,” she agrees.
As the session wears on, I start to feel the car beneath me in a way I haven’t in years. It’s not just about the lap times—it’s about the connection, the trust. I push harder, shaving off tenths in every sector. Bex’s encouragement keeps me sharp, her belief in me a steady undercurrent.
And there’s a part of me that wants to impress her. To make her understand that no matter the setbacks, I have what it takes.
Finally, I bring the car to a stop, my body buzzing with the thrill of it. I pull off the headset and glance at Bex, who’s leaning back in her chair, looking as satisfied as I feel.
“You’re ready,” she says simply.
I chuckle, shaking my head. “Thanks for this. Really.”
Her expression softens as she slides off the stool and walks my way. “You don’t have to thank me, Nash. I love helping you.”
Her words hit deeper than they should, and for a moment, I’m caught in the weight of her gaze. There’s a warmth there, a faith in me that I’m not sure I deserve. But tonight, I’ll take it.
I unhook the steering wheel, step out of the car. She tips her head back to look up at me, her hands going to my chest. Her eyes are somber, holding a message that I know she wants me to really hear. “You are ready, Nash. You have the talent and the ability to get back to the top of the podium. I wish I could tell you where you need to improve, but there’s a reason you’re one of the best in formula. Just don’t ever forget it, okay? Especially when you’re out on the track.”
Her words soften that hard shell I’m trying to keep in place around my heart. If she becomes my biggest champion again, I’ll want all of it and while I might not be afraid to hit the track at two hundred-plus miles an hour, I’m afraid of a crash-and-burn with her.
The emotion threatens to pull me in, but I need to put that distance between us again.
Not physical distance.
Just the tenderness and care for a bit.
I kiss her and there’s nothing sweet about it.
Bex immediately responds, a low moan warbling in her throat as her arms go around my neck. She jumps into my arms, legs around my waist, and I spin to the car. Bending, I lay her over the narrow hood, her back arching over it. Because the simulator sits off the ground, it’s the perfect height for me to have my way with her.
My hands work at her joggers, loosening the tie and roughly yanking them down her legs. She pushes at her shoes in a frantic rush to help me and then her lower half is naked.
Bex leans up on one elbow, face flushed, and she pushes her glasses up her nose in a move that makes her both sexy and adorable.
“Spread those pretty legs for me,” I say gruffly.
Some semblance of sanity seems to penetrate her brain, and she cautiously looks around.
“We’re alone,” I assure her.
“The night guard…”
“Is on the lower floor in the lobby. He won’t bother us.”
“But someone else—”
I grip her thighs, bend over her body and lick straight up her center. Bex shrieks and she tries to push my head away. I latch onto her clit, sucking rhythmically and then she’s trying to push my face against her harder.
I chuckle at her demanding ways and nibble all around her sensitive area. I slide a finger in deep, pump a few times and then add another.
“Bloody hell,” she mutters, hips gyrating against me. She’s lost, not worrying about a damn thing other than getting off.
I push my lips against her and drive my tongue in deep. She grunts, curses and scratches my neck with her nails. This is what I love with Bex… that no-holds-barred sex where we have no limits.
I lick, suck and bite at her. My fingers inside, stretching and pumping. Bex mumbles incoherently and then an orgasm strikes her hard and it’s my name she’s calling out.
“So fucking sexy,” I praise, rolling my tongue gently against her.
She shudders against the continued pressure, my fingers deep. “Give me one more,” I say nicely.
“I can’t.”
I twist my hand, press my thumb on her clit. “There’s no can’t inside Bexley Toliver,” I tease.
She laughs and then sobs when I suck on her again. She’s so sensitive and she doesn’t know how to quit. Good thing I don’t either and I work her over until she’s once again crying out my name.
I’m fascinated as I watch her writhe, the pad of my index finger tapping against her swollen flesh. “Got another one for me?”
“No,” she gasps, lifting her head to glare. “Just fuck me already.”
Chuckling, I unzip my jeans and push them low enough to free my erection. “Demanding little thing, aren’t you?”
She doesn’t answer, just watches me step between her legs, which are splayed wide. I grab one, lock it around my waist, and rub the tip of my cock through her wetness. I grit my teeth because fuck, that feels good, and I sink inside just an inch. She’s so fucking tight and hot and I think I might lose my shit.
“Nash,” she gasps, rolling her hips, trying to draw me in. “Please.”
Just that one word and I’m her slave. I push my hips forward, sliding all the way in and have a moment of dizziness over the perfection that is her pussy. There’ve been other women over the years, but none who could make me see stars just from that first thrust.
I stay planted, holding my body still as we stare at each other. I glance around the room, shocked I’m fucking Bex on the simulator. Had never been a fantasy before, but I’ll be playing it over in my mind for years to come.
Placing my hands on her thighs, I start to flex my hips, tunneling in and out of her slowly. Bex’s hands lie loosely on her stomach, and I grab one and drag it between us. “Play with yourself,” I say, my voice hoarse and thick. “Get yourself off again.”
She doesn’t say I can’t, because she knows she can, and I won’t let myself go until she does.
I watch as her fingers slide through her lips and circle her clit, and I focus on the way her breath hitches every time I slide deeper into her.
I know Bex so well. I can tell by her body language, the way she bites into her lower lip and the rise and fall of her chest… she’s getting close. I drive deeper into her, holding hard on to her hips so she doesn’t fly off the back of the car. Every thrust drives me higher, every little moan she makes cutting the ties to my orgasm.
It’s when Bex stiffens, bucks her hips upward and I feel her tighten all around me that I lose it. I jerk into her, spastic and unable to control my body. Lightning bolts of pleasure spear through me and my release seems never ending as I vaguely feel Bex matching me ripple for ripple.
With a groan, I loosen my grip on her, my hips moving shallowly against her as little pulses of heat lick at me.
Goddamn, that was good.
Fucking perfect.
She’s perfect, and as she stares at me, I absolutely recognize the love. I can feel it inside of me, but I bottle it tight. As close as we’ve gotten the last few days, I’m still well aware of how bad it hurts to lose it all.