Chapter Twenty-Eight – Cole
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
COLE
“She’s done,” I say, pride swelling in my chest as we stand in the garage admiring Eleanor.
Lola runs her hand along the car’s sleek lines, eyes sparkling. “She’s beautiful,” she whispers. “Even better than before.”
I can’t help but grin. “Let’s try not to wreck her at the grocery store again, okay?”
She laughs, shaking her head. “I’ll see what I can do.”
I scan Eleanor’s gleaming curves, my chest tight with a mix of pride and something else I can’t name, contentment maybe. Dammit, I’ve poured weeks into this rebuild, and she’s perfect. But it’s Lola’s face that I can’t stop watching, I’m enamored with this woman.
“Wanna take her for a spin?” The words are out before I can stop them. I’m not sure why I’m asking; it’s her car, after all.
Lola’s eyes light up like fireworks. “Really? You want to go for a drive?”
I grunt, signaling my confirmation like a caveman.
She bounces on her toes, and I have to look away. Too much energy, too much everything . I grab the keys while she heads to the passenger side.
“Never mind, I’ll drive. You’ll scratch the paint,” I growl.
As we slide in, the leather squeaks. The familiar scent hits me: motor oil, polish, and now a hint of Lola’s shampoo. My hands grip the wheel tight enough to leave marks.
The engine purrs to life. Eleanor. This car has kept us connected for years, one of the only things in my life that has always made sense.
I glance at Lola. She’s grinning like a kid on Christmas, and for a second, I forget how to breathe.
“Where to?”
She shrugs, hair falling across her face. “Surprise me.”
Dangerous words, sunshine.
I gun it out of the garage, tires squealing. Lola laughs, the sound drilling straight into my chest.
The road stretches out ahead, empty and inviting. Eleanor eats up the asphalt, hungry for more. I feel the familiar rush, the thrill of pure power under my control. But there’s something else now, a new electricity in the air.
Lola’s quiet, but I can feel her eyes on me. It prickles across my skin, heating up under her perusal.
“You gonna stare at me the entire drive?” I rasp, not taking my eyes off the road.
“Sorry,” she mumbles, rolling her eyes and looking away. I immediately want her watching me again. What the hell is wrong with me?
We hit the curves leading up to the hills. I take them faster than I should, pushing Eleanor to her limits. Showing off? Definitely. The force presses Lola into her seat, and I hear a little gasp escape her lips.
“Too much for you?” I smirk, finally glancing her way.
But she’s grinning, wild and beautiful. “Not even close,” she challenges.
Something hot and dangerous coils in my gut. I downshift, feeling Eleanor respond. The engine roars, and we fly around the next bend.
Lola whoops, throwing her hands up. The sound of her joy mingles with Eleanor’s growl, and for a moment, everything else falls away. It’s just us, the car, and the road ahead. I needed this.
We crest the hill, and I ease off the gas. The valley spreads out below us, bathed in golden afternoon light. I pull over at the lookout point, letting Eleanor cool down.
Silence falls as I cut the engine. I can hear Lola’s rapid breathing and see the flush on her cheeks. She turns to me, eyes bright.
“That was...” she starts.
“Yeah,” I agree, my voice rough.
We’re so close in the confines of the car. I can smell her shampoo again, mixed with the leather and a hint of sweat. My hands itch to reach for her.
Instead, I open the door. “Come on,” I mutter. “View’s better outside.”
As we step out, the cool air hits me like a slap. I know Lola and I said we’re in this for the long haul. But, somewhere in the back of my mind, I’m worried that now that Eleanor is done, maybe we are, too.
But when Lola comes to stand beside me, looking out over the valley, I can’t bring myself to regret a second of our time together.
“Thank you,” she says softly. “For helping me with Eleanor. For… this.”
I grunt, not trusting myself to speak. Because right now, with the sun turning her hair to fire and that smile on her face, I want to give her a different kind of joyride.
One that has nothing to do with roaring engines or winding roads. One that involves tangled limbs and whispered confessions and the kind of intimacy that terrifies me more than any high-speed chase.
The silence settles again, but this time it’s different. It’s not strained, not filled with unspoken accusations or the weight of expectations. It’s comfortable, easy, the kind of silence that speaks volumes without a single word uttered.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Lola says softly, breaking the silence, her voice echoing the awe I feel inside.
“Yeah,” I manage to choke out.
It is beautiful. The view, the setting sun, the woman standing beside me. It’s all a bit too perfect, a bit too close to something I’ve always craved but never believed I could have. And maybe that’s what scares me the most. Now that I have it, I’m terrified of losing it.
I glance at Lola, her profile outlined against the setting sun, the wind whipping strands of golden hair across her face. She’s breathtaking, even in her worn jeans and grease-stained T-shirt. My gaze lingers on her lips, remembering the way they felt against mine, the taste of her, the way she makes me forget everything but the heat of the moment.
I want to kiss her again. Right here, right now, with the world spread out before us like a promise.
And this time, I don’t hesitate.
I take her hand, my calloused fingers intertwining with hers, and lead her back to Eleanor, the warmth of her hand a current that runs straight to my heart. I lean against the hood of the car, pulling her gently towards me, and she comes willingly, her body molding against mine in a perfect fit.
“Beautiful,” I murmur, my voice rough with emotion, my gaze sweeping over the vista before us, then settling on her face, her eyes reflecting the golden hues of the setting sun.
She leans into me, resting her head against my chest, the weight of her a comforting pressure. I wrap my arms around her, holding her close, the scent of her hair filling my senses, a heady mix of citrus and something uniquely her.
This is where I want to be. With Lola in my arms, the world fading away, the only sound is the gentle whisper of the wind and the steady beat of our hearts.
The air in the garage crackles with a tension thicker than the scent of high-octane fuel and burnt rubber. It’s the last race of the season. Abu Dhabi and the championship hangs in the balance. Every bolt has been tightened, every sensor calibrated, and every strategic decision Lola and I make could be the difference between victory and crushing defeat.
Lola’s across the garage, meticulously going over the telemetry data one last time. Even in the sterile fluorescent light, she’s a knockout. Her brow furrows in concentration, her lips moving silently as she analyzes the numbers, and I can’t help but remember the way those lips tasted, the way her body felt pressed against mine.
I push the thoughts away, forcing my focus back to the engine in front of me. This is it. Everything we’ve worked for, bled for, comes down to this race. But I can’t deny the truth anymore. Racing has always been my first, maybe my only, love, but it’s taken a back seat to Lola. She’s not just my race engineer. She’s my everything. My confidante, my partner in crime, the one person who truly understands the fire that burns inside me.
“Cole,” she calls out, her voice sharp, pulling me from my thoughts. “Can you come take a look at this?”
I cross the garage, my boots echoing on the concrete floor, and stop beside her. Her scent, that mix of citrus and something uniquely her, hits me, sending a jolt of desire straight to my gut.
“What’s up?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady, my gaze fixed on the data scrolling across her tablet screen.
“I’m seeing some inconsistencies in the tire pressure readings,” she says, her brow furrowed, her focus laser sharp. “It’s subtle, but it could affect your grip, especially during the later laps.”
She’s brilliant, my Lola. Always one step ahead, always thinking, always pushing. And it’s not just her mind that gets me going. It’s the way her passion matches my own, the way her eyes light up when she talks about downforce and apex speeds, the way she makes me want to win, not just for the team, but for her.
I lean closer, our shoulders brushing, the heat of her body a tangible presence beside me. “What do you suggest we do?”
Her eyes meet mine, and the data, the race, the championship—it all fades away. All I can see is her, the woman who has stolen my heart without even trying.
“Cole,” she whispers, her voice husky.
And then I’m kissing her. It’s not a question or a request. It’s a need. She tastes like coffee and something sweeter, something that makes me crave more. Her hands tangle in my hair, pulling me closer, and I lose myself in the feel of her lips against mine and the way our bodies fit together so perfectly.
The world shrinks, the roar of the garage fading away, until it’s just the two of us, the heat of our desire consuming everything.
I break the kiss, breathless, my heart pounding against my ribs like a race car engine about to redline. “Lola,” I groan, her name a prayer escaping my lips.
“Don’t stop,” she whispers, her voice trembling with need.
And I don’t. Nothing can stop me right now.
I lift her, her legs wrapping around my waist. She’s light as a feather, and her body fits perfectly against mine. I guide her onto the rear wing of the Viper, the cool metal a contrast to the heat radiating between us.
Above us, the fluorescent lights hum, casting long shadows that dance across the garage floor. Around us, the world rushes on, oblivious to the fire raging between us, the passion that threatens to consume everything in its path.
But for now, all that matters is Lola. Her lips, her touch, the way she makes me forget everything but the feel of her in my arms, the taste of her on my tongue, and the knowledge that she wants me as much as I want her.
And as I kiss her again, deeper this time, losing myself in the fire that burns between us, I know one thing for certain: This race, this championship, this moment… it’s all for her.
Her fingers dig into my shoulders, pulling me closer as our tongues tangle in a dance of need and desperation. Her scent fills my senses, driving me wild. I’ve kissed her before, but this is different somehow. This is real. This is us.
I break the kiss, needing to see her, to lose myself in the depths of her emerald eyes, eyes that now burn with a fire that mirrors my own. “Lola,” I breathe, her name a prayer escaping my lips.
“Don’t talk,” she whispers, her voice husky with desire. “Just kiss me again.”
And I do.
I kiss her with everything I have, pouring all my pent-up longing and unspoken desires into that one touch. My hands roam her body, exploring the curves beneath her shirt, memorizing every inch, every sigh, every tremor that ripples through her as I deepen the kiss. I’ve never wanted anything as much as I want her, right here, right now.
Her hands slide up my chest, her fingers moving around, tracing the lines of my back. I groan, the sound a mix of pleasure and frustration as I fight to keep my control, to savor this moment and make it last.
But the need, the hunger, is too strong. I break the kiss again, my breath coming in ragged gasps, and she looks at me, her eyes questioning, her lips swollen and parted, begging for more.
“Lola,” I say, my voice rough with desire. “I need you.”
The words hang in the air between us, a confession, a surrender. And in her eyes, I see the answer I’m looking for. She needs me, too.
“Then take me,” she whispers, her voice a breathy plea against my lips. “Take me now.”
I waste no time. My hands work quickly, shedding her clothes and my fire suit, discarding them on the floor like meaningless distractions. The cool air of the garage kisses her bare skin, and I see goose bumps erupt on her arms, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from her body, the heat that mirrors the inferno raging inside me.
“You’re stunning, every inch of you,” I murmur, my voice thick with awe and desire. I trace the line of her collarbone with my fingertip, marveling at the smoothness of her skin, the way she shivers beneath my touch.
Her eyes, those incredible emerald pools, lock on to mine, and I see a vulnerability there that steals my breath away. This is more than just lust, more than the heat of the moment. This is trust, a surrender I’ve never experienced before.
I lower my head, my lips brushing against hers, teasing, tasting. I want to savor every moment, to etch every sensation into my memory. Her hands find my back, her fingers digging into my skin, pulling me closer, urging me on.
“Cole,” she breathes, her voice a broken whisper against my lips. “Please…”
I need no further encouragement. I lift her, her legs wrapping around my waist, and she clings to me, her body a perfect fit against mine.
My hands find the clasp of her bra, and, with a swift movement, I take the delicate lace and toss it onto the pile, revealing the soft curves of her breasts. Her breath hitches, and her nipples stiffen to peaks as my gaze sweeps over her, my heart pounding against my ribs like a race car engine revving at the starting line.
“You’re so fucking perfect,” I growl, my voice rough with desire.
I lower my head, my lips finding hers again, the kiss deep and hungry, fueled by years of unspoken longing and the knowledge that this is real. And as I move between her legs, feeling the heat of her readiness, the urgency of her need, I know that this race, this moment, this woman… it’s all I’ll ever need.
Her hands find their way to my Nomex pants, her fingers fumbling slightly, and the sight of her struggling with the simple task sends a fresh wave of desire crashing through me. I help her, my own hands shaking with anticipation as I peel off the last layer between us, discarding it on the floor alongside the rest, another casualty in this battle of wills we both know I’m going to lose.
I pull back slightly, needing to see her, to savor the sight of her beneath me. I should be accustomed to this look, her skin flushed, eyes dark with desire, and lips parted in a silent plea, but I’m in awe every time. She’s breathtaking, a vision of raw beauty that makes my chest ache. This incredible, strong, brilliant woman is all mine.
Tonight feels different, heightened with the intensity of the impending race. This is pure, unbridled passion.
I lean down, my lips brushing against hers, a silent promise sealed with a groan that echoes in the quiet garage. And then I’m moving, pushing into her, filling her with a force that’s both gentle and possessive.
She gasps, a sharp intake of breath that turns into a soft moan as I fill her completely. Her eyes flutter closed, her head tilting back against the Viper’s metal frame. A wave of protectiveness washes over me, a fierce urge to shield her from everything, even the shadows that dance across the garage walls.
I hold myself still for a moment, giving her time to adjust, to savor the feeling of our bodies joined, our breaths mingling in the space between us. Her hands clutch at my shoulders, nails digging into my skin, a delicious reminder of the intensity of her desire.
“Cole,” she whispers, her voice a breathless plea against my lips. “Move.”
The single word is all the encouragement I need.
I start to move, slowly at first, savoring the way she welcomes me, the heat of her surrounding me, the soft moans escaping her lips as I set a rhythm that echoes the pounding of my heart. Every thrust, every sigh, every gasp that escapes her lips is a symphony of pleasure, a testament to the connection that binds us together, body and soul.
The world outside the garage, the pressure of the championship, and the whispers and expectations of the racing world fade away. There’s only Lola, her scent, her touch, and the way she makes me feel like I can fly without ever leaving the ground.
Her nails dig into my shoulders, her body arching into mine as the pleasure builds, a storm gathering force inside her. I watch her, mesmerized by the way her face transforms, the delicate flush of her skin, the way her lips part with each breath, and the raw need in her eyes.
“Cole,” she gasps, her voice a broken whisper. “I… I’m close…”
Her words are like a shot of adrenaline, pushing me over the edge. I drive into her, harder, faster, losing myself in the feel of her body clenching around mine, the sound of her cries echoing in the quiet garage shatters the last vestiges of my control.