Total pages in book: 180
Estimated words: 176012 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 880(@200wpm)___ 704(@250wpm)___ 587(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 176012 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 880(@200wpm)___ 704(@250wpm)___ 587(@300wpm)
I follow him to his car, but he doesn’t go left, to the parking lots. Instead, he moves toward the track and pulls open the door of a ’67 Camaro convertible. I climb in and put my seatbelt on as he slides in the driver’s side.
Wind whips through my hair, lightning flashing across the sky.
“This is one of Jax’s cars,” I point out.
I thought he was driving Jared’s old Boss.
Reaching over, he unsnaps my seatbelt and takes it off me just before starting the engine.
I slip my arm out of the belt. “What are you doing?”
“Swing your legs up to my lap and lie back, flat on your seat.”
With the top of my head touching my door? It’s a bench seat, so there’s no console to get in the way.
“It’s okay.” He breaks into a smile. “Trust me.”
I’m not putting my legs on him. I didn’t shave today. Or yesterday.
I heave a sigh, dropping my head into his lap, instead, and setting my ankles on the door. My shoes hang out of the car.
His brow arches, and I do a shitty job of holding back my smile. “Trust me,” I say.
The sky opens up over his head, clouds covering the stars, and I feel a couple of sprinkles of rain. But when I look up, all I see is him as the warmth of his body cradles my neck.
“Now, close your eyes.” He swallows. “And keep them closed.”
“Why?”
“You’ll see.”
Fine. Closing my eyes, I feel the world tilt a little, and I don’t know if it’s the cool air or the engine rumbling underneath me. Or being this close to him. All I know is he better get the top up before Jax has a fit over rain getting on his black leather seats. My brother is probably still in the tower, watching as cars exit the track.
Lucas shifts, the muscles in his leg flexing underneath me as he hits the gas. The car vaults, and my heart leaps into my throat. I gasp.
He races, kicking it up a gear, then another, and I grip the seats at my sides, a drop of rain hitting me. Barreling around the first corner, he makes the tires skid, and I press one foot into the door to keep myself stable. My hair flies across my face, my stomach swims, and I breathe hard as the wind gets faster and faster when he speeds up. My chest rises and falls, water touching my lips, and I don’t open my eyes, but I feel his watching me.
His leg muscles pump again, hitting the gas, then flex once more, slowing just slightly for a turn. Speeding up again, it’s like I’m floating, and I smile just as he wraps an arm over my stomach to hold me as he rounds another fast turn.
Oh, God.
I want to turn my face into his stomach, curl up into him, and feel his arm get tighter.
The car slows, and I wait for him to finally stop before I open my eyes.
He stares down at me, so much satisfaction written across his face. “You like going fast.”
Rain falls harder now, and I blink up at him, feeling his hand still gripping my waist. “I like you going fast.”
Maybe I like speed. I don’t know.
I like roller coasters and roller skates. I like pedaling fast and cruising down a hill on my bike.
And I like his driving. Madoc taught him just as well as he taught his sons.
“It’s settled then,” he says. “I’ll just have to drive your lazy butt around all summer.”
I laugh, beaming up at him. His eyes drop to my mouth again, and for a second—maybe less—I swear they drop farther before he quickly looks away and takes his hand off of me.
My blood runs hot. Look at me again.
But his phone rings, and he pulls it out of his pocket, answering it.
I can hear my brother’s growl in Lucas’s ear. “Why the fuck doesn’t she have a seatbelt on?”
Lucas hangs up, wincing at Jax’s scolding. Jax is usually the calm one.
But I was right. He’s in the watchtower, keeping an eye on me.
“Well…” I clear my throat. “At the very least, they won’t put up a fuss if you’re giving me rides. They’re not threatened by you.”
Neither am I. Unfortunately.
If I weren’t Quinn, he would’ve held me tighter.
He props his elbow up on his door, leaning his head on his hand and making no move to raise the top. “Did you ever have a relationship they ruined?” he asks me.
I stay in his lap. “No. No one I was very interested in anyway.”
“Any long-term relationships?”
It feels weird he’s asking me these things. They’re not the kind of conversations we had when I was thirteen.
“I went out a bit,” I tell him. “Just didn’t feel like I thought it would feel.”