Chapter Eighteen #2
My hand slides from her jaw into her hair while the other wraps around her waist and drags her tight against me. Her mouth opens under mine and the whole thing turns deeper, breathless, and messy enough that I forget there are people standing five feet away.
For a second, there’s only her.
The way she clings to me.
The way my chest feels too fucking full and the way I want to stay right here until she stops looking at me like I might disappear.
When we finally break apart, neither of us moves very far.
Her forehead rests against mine.
I’m breathing too hard.
So is she.
“Come back to me in one piece,” she whispers.
I press one last kiss to her mouth.
“Always.”
Thorne clears his throat, and points between us. “So Miami actually worked, then?”
I grab my helmet and grin at him. “Worked great for me.”
Cece smacks my arm.
Sayshen laughs. “Dude is fucking glowing.”
“Can you blame me?”
Cece shoves me toward the bike. “Go do your job.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Her eyes narrow.
I pull my helmet on before she can threaten me.
Fucking worth it.
****
The second I roll onto pit lane, everything else drops away.
The noise, Miami, the guys, even Cece mostly disappears behind the part of my brain that knows exactly what to do once I’m on the bike.
Her voice is still there somewhere, though, telling me not to do anything stupid, and fuck if that doesn’t make me smile inside my helmet while the officials clear the grid and the engines around me climb into one long scream.
Thorne is ahead and to my left, Ajax a couple spots over.
The lights come on, hold, then disappear and the whole grid launches at once.
Ajax gets the better start, Thorne slots in behind him, and I’m fourth heading into turn one. The rider ahead shuts the inside before I can even think about taking it, so instead of forcing something stupid, I stay wider, carry more speed through the corner and get back on the throttle earlier.
I drive past him on exit and settle into third.
Look at me growing and shit.
The first few laps turn into Ajax, Thorne and me trading tenths while the rest of the field starts dropping back. I stay close enough to watch where they’re gaining, where they’re giving something up, and where I’d be an idiot to try squeezing through.
A few laps in, Thorne drifts a little wide through turn nine and leaves just enough space inside to make every reckless instinct I have start talking.
Then Cece’s voice flashes through my head.
Don’t do anything stupid.
I almost fucking laugh.
She isn’t even on comms and, somehow, she’s still bossing me around from the paddock.
So I stay behind him.
The next lap gives me another shot, and this time I pull alongside him down the straight before the corner tightens enough that I know forcing it would be pointless.
I slot back in, wait, and a few laps later he finally runs deep enough into the braking zone to leave me something real. I take it clean, get half a bike ahead, and for a second I’ve got second place before the bastard cuts underneath me on exit and takes it right back.
I laugh inside the helmet.
Beautiful prick.
That’s the moment it really clicks. I still want the pass. I still want to beat him. I still want first because obviously I fucking do, but I don’t need it badly enough to turn half a gap into a crash just because my ego thinks it can.
By the final lap, Ajax is still out front, Thorne is defending hard and I’m right on his ass.
I stay wider through the last section, get on the throttle early and launch onto the straight.
I’m gaining, but not enough. Ajax crosses first, Thorne takes second, and I come across third less than a second behind him.
Weirdly, I’m good with it.
I wanted the win, but I raced clean, had pace and made both of them work for every inch. No stupid move, no wreck, no Andre screaming into my helmet because I tried to create space that wasn’t there.
Solid fucking afternoon.
On the cooldown lap, Thorne looks over and I flip him off. He returns it immediately. Ajax slows enough for us to come alongside and I lift a fist toward him. He gives me a nod back.
Good fucking race.
By the time we roll into the paddock, everything is loud again. Mechanics are moving around the bikes, cameras are everywhere, people are talking over each other, but I barely hear any of it once I spot Cece standing near the back with Echo and Bex.
Her arms are folded, eyes locked on me, and the second she realizes I’m looking at her, something in her face eases.
Relief.
That hits me harder than the podium.
I hand off my helmet and head straight for her. She meets me halfway, both hands landing against my chest while her eyes run over me like she needs to check for herself that I came back with everything still attached.
“You listened.”
I grin. “Jeez, Mama. You could at least try to sound more surprised.”
She shakes her head, but then her hand catches the front of my suit and she pulls me down into a kiss without looking around first or giving a shit who sees.
I kiss her back, one hand settling at her waist while the other slides into her hair, and for a few seconds the paddock disappears again.
By the time she pulls away, we’re both breathing harder than we should be and she’s still holding onto the front of my leathers.
Her smile finally comes all the way back.
“I’m gotta head out,” she says, smoothing a hand down the front of my suit before stepping back. “I need to get home, shower, then go help Mami with dinner.”
I grin. “I mean, I could use a shower too.”
“Cállate.” She points at me as she starts backing away. “I’ll text you the address.”
“Seven?”
“Seven.”
“I’ll be there. I promise, Mama.”
“You better, Papi.”
I grin. “Bossy.”
“You like it.”
“Fuck yeah, I do.”
I grab my helmet and start toward the exit, looking over my shoulder once before I go.
She’s still watching me.
Still smiling, and for once, leaving the track doesn’t feel like I’m already chasing whatever comes next, cause this time, I already know exactly where I’m going.