Total pages in book: 44
Estimated words: 40297 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 201(@200wpm)___ 161(@250wpm)___ 134(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 40297 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 201(@200wpm)___ 161(@250wpm)___ 134(@300wpm)
I didn’t tease her about her reaction, or bring it to her attention that I’ve even noticed. I didn’t want to leave her for the day on a sour note. “But I don’t have to leave until this evening, so I’ll pick you up like usual.”
Cecily hesitated, shifting from one foot to the other as she stared down at the helmet in her hands. When she finally spoke, her voice was soft. “You know, it might be easier if I just stay here tonight. It seems silly to have you pick me up just to drop me off and leave. Then have to bring me home tomorrow morning after getting in late.”
I fucking hated hearing her refer to her parents’ house as home.
“I don’t want you staying with your parents, Cecily.” My gaze locked onto hers, and I didn’t bother to hide how much I didn’t like her suggestion. “I want you at home, in our bed. Where you belong.”
Something in her expression shifted subtly, and I felt her withdraw. Not physically, but emotionally. Like she’d carefully placed a barrier between us. It was subtle, something I felt more than saw, but it caused a fierce protectiveness to surge hotly through my veins and burn in my chest.
She was trying to create distance again. But like every time before, I was gonna shut that shit down.
“I just think it’s easier.” Her gaze dropped to the sidewalk, and her voice sounded careful now, cautious. “Staying here tonight.”
At least this time she didn’t call this house her home. It wasn’t much, but it mollified me slightly, softened the edge of irritation. If she needed one small step back, I’d let her have it—just this one. But I wouldn’t allow her to pull further away. I needed to handle my club business tonight, but tomorrow, we were going to take several steps forward.
“All right,” I conceded finally. “You’re right, it makes more sense not to drop you off here every morning to get ready. So, tomorrow, when I come to get you, have a bag packed for at least a week.”
Cecily’s lips parted slightly, surprise flickering in her eyes, but I didn’t wait for her to agree. I took a step closer, sliding a hand firmly around the nape of her neck to pull her in. My mouth came down on hers hard, and there was no patience in this kiss. I pressed my lips to hers like I intended to leave a mark, to remind her exactly who she belonged to. My tongue swept inside her mouth, tasting her fully, erasing any lingering uncertainty about what was between us.
She responded immediately, her breath quickening against my lips, and her hands coming up to grip my shoulders tightly. The kiss went on until she softened against me, her breathing ragged when I finally lifted my head.
“You understand me?” I rasped, my voice rough as my eyes locked onto hers. “I might have club business tonight, but I’m not going anywhere. And neither are you.”
A shadow drifted across her eyes that I didn’t understand, but it was gone seconds later and she managed a faint, shaky nod.
I let her go reluctantly and stepped back, my jaw clenched as I forced myself to walk away. Every muscle was tense as I climbed back onto my bike and rode away, leaving Cecily standing on the sidewalk, staring after me with flushed cheeks and eyes darkened by emotions I could quite decipher but knew I didn’t like.
Hours later, I stood in the shadows beside Racer, Midnight, Rev, Edge, and Gauge while we looked out over the makeshift track hidden deep inside an abandoned industrial property a few miles outside Crossbend.
And fucking hell, it was worse than I expected.
The place looked like somebody with half a brain and a death wish had thrown it together in one night. Rusted barriers sat crooked along stretches of broken asphalt. Floodlights had been zip-tied to scaffolding like an afterthought, throwing an uneven glare across the track. Oil slicks stained the pavement in dark patches, runoff areas were nonexistent, and the crowds pressed far too close behind flimsy fencing that would fold if someone sneezed too hard.
No tech inspection, safety crews, or structure. And from what we’d heard about these races, no fucking rules.
Music blasted from somewhere deeper in the yard, bass rattling the steel shipping containers while smoke drifted thick through the humid Florida air. Drivers circled their cars like predators, engines revving aggressively while cash exchanged hands everywhere I looked.
The money we’d been missing was absolutely here.
I spotted at least four of our regular high-stakes bettors within the first two minutes. Men who normally parked themselves front and center at our underground races were standing near the betting tables throwing around stacks of cash. Worse, I recognized a few underground racers who regularly drove at our tracks—names I’d already flagged.