My breath caught as her thumb rubbed the head of my cock. A mile later, I strained against the wool slacks, the muscles flexing in my thighs. I moved a hand from the grips to slide gloved fingers over the tight denim leg pressed up against my hip.
She wasn’t wearing her leathers, but her silver helmet lowered to my shoulder. Her hips rolled against my ass, the hand between my legs pulling on my most basic and fundamental need. I fought the urge to jerk the bike over, slide her onto my cock, and fuck her on the side of the road in front of God and everybody.
She didn’t remove those tortuous fingers, and by the time we reached our destination, there was no oxygen left in my lungs.
The remodeled church where I lived was on a dead-end, country road, off the grid and hard to find. It stood sturdy and strong in an open field, with overgrown weeds between the gravel lane and the reinforced-steel front door.
As I veered around to the rear of the red-bricked rectangle, her taunting hand retreated and she sat taller. During the ride, she’d kept her helmet tilted to avoid blocking the rear camera view so I could watch for tails. Now that she’d straightened, her silhouette flashed on my visor, her helmet ticking back and forth as she drank in the surrounding pastures and woodland and the small shed that concealed my jeep.
The custom garage door in the back of the church activated when it sensed the microchip in my helmet. I pulled into the dark, single-bay garage, the steel floor rattling beneath the tires, as the automatic door shut behind us.
From an outsider’s perspective, it was just a garage. A completely empty garage. For a reason.
Balancing the bike between my legs, with my boots on the floor, I hooked an arm behind me to hold her against my back and said into the mic, “Activate lift.”
The voice-control in the helmet signaled the gears behind the walls. They whirred quietly, and the floor shook, then descended.
“Holy shit.” Her voice muffled through the helmet, tinged with awe.
We reached the warehouse two-stories below ground. I rode the bike off the lift and parked it among fifteen others.
She slid off the seat, her long braid draped over her shoulder, her hands on either side of her helmet, wriggling it from her head. She set it on the floor and turned in a circle. Her wide eyes grew wider and brighter by the second as she took in the rows of bikes, the high-end gear boxes, the diamond-plated bike lifts, and the power tools lining the walls.
I would be abandoning all of it. Benny would sell what she could. The rest would be left behind with the remodeled church. That was always the plan. What I hadn’t planned for was Kaci running away with me and everything she would be leaving behind—her dreams for making Trenchant a better company, her career, her best friend.
But she wanted the fourth option, and thank fuck for that.
I removed my helmet, setting it beside hers, and remained on the bike. I propped a boot on the frame slider and rested an elbow on my knee, wanting nothing more than to enjoy the pleasure of watching her.
She had no idea how beautiful she was. The flickering excitement in her eyes. Her tight, curvy ass in those jeans. And her abandoned smile when her attention caught on Evader’s BMW S1000RR.
For a ridiculous moment, I was jealous of that damned bike. I wanted that smile pointed at me. But at the same time, it was her interest in racing that initially drew me to her. The mysterious Miss Ducati at the finish line captivated me long before I knew who she was.
Her attention shifted, and her eyes locked onto mine. She nibbled on the corner of her smile and shook her head. “So this is Evader’s cave.” She walked slowly toward me. “It’s unreal to be here.” Three more steps. “With the man I’ve fantasized about for so long.”
I felt something press against my breastbone from the inside, and just beneath the pressure, it strummed and warmed.
Her steady gaze held mine as she approached. I couldn’t look away. There was nothing hotter or more breathtaking than the view before me. Not just as a body to bury myself in or a purpose to fight for. Her beauty was in her loyalty to her best friend, her goodness amid a family of corruption, and her need for…something
more
.
It took me weeks to understand it, why I was so driven to be near her, why I wanted more than just sex with her, and why I wanted to give up everything to make her happy. She was my connection to life, my reason for fighting. She was why I felt so alive and wild and terrified. Because I felt all those things in her.
When she reached my side, she threw a leg over my lap and straddled the spread of my thighs around the bike. Face to face, she stared directly into my eyes, her body melting against mine, merging, conforming into a single beating heart.
Then she kissed me, melding her lips to mine and shoving her hands in my hair. I groaned and wrapped my arms around her back, inching her closer as I slid my fingers over the soft cashmere of her jacket. Coaxing her tongue, I deepened the kiss and flexed my hips, rocking against her and prompting her thighs to clench around me.
My pulse swished past my ears, and there was another sound, too. A voice clearing.
Kaci pulled back, and I followed her gaze to the door.
Benny leaned against the doorframe with her arms loosely crossed over her chest. She tilted her head to the side, wearing a gentle smile. In ten years, I’d never brought anyone home. She’d never seen me with a woman. I braced for some ridiculous wisecrack about my heavy breaths and the desperate way I’d been grinding my hips.
But she didn’t say anything, simply smiled. She seemed oddly…subdued. Not just her mood, but her appearance. Long brown hair framed her face, her huge green eyes soft and tranquil, tan cargo pants, and a white t-shirt. This was Benny without the glitter and hair-dye and obnoxious antics.
Kaci climbed off my lap. I was reluctant to let her go, but we had a million details to iron out before the race.
I followed her through the garage, eyeing Benny sharply. “What’s wrong?”
She straightened away from the doorjamb and shrugged. “It’s good, Logan. It’s just…” She looked between me and Kaci. “It’s really good to see you happy.”
After all the years she’d worked with me, navigating around my mercurial tempers, I supposed she wasn’t the only one with a sudden change in disposition.
She reached out a hand toward Kaci. “Hey. I’m Benny.”
Kaci accepted the handshake with a warm smile, and the reception moved into the main warehouse.
Mountains of boxes filled the basement. Benny had been busy, and perhaps that was another reason for her placid mood. After a decade of suffocating in plans of revenge, it was drawing to a close and there would be no resistance. She wanted to retire from illegal activities as much as I did. It was time to begin a new life, and I felt it take root in the softness of her eyes as she welcomed Kaci.
I took over the packing while Benny briefed Kaci on the race, the map, and the technology wired in the helmet she would be wearing. To maintain her anonymity, she wouldn’t be racing in her silver leathers, and her Ducati would remain at Trump Tower.
Benny introduced her to the bike I’d selected for her. The MTT Turbine Streetfighter wasn’t painted silver like the Ducati. But the chrome finish on the exhaust and bodywork suited the Lady Silver moniker. Her new helmet had a chrome-like veneer and was decked out with the same gadgetry as mine. Her excitement radiated from her pores as Benny taught her how to use it.
Several hours later, the planning and the packing were complete. Benny went home, and Kaci and I retreated to the ground floor. My living space was just that, a place to exist, to sleep, to wake and begin again. The walls and shelves were barren of personality. There were no family photos, no keepsakes collected as a child, nothing of value to take with me.
She walked through the open room, her footfalls echoing along the length of the old church. Her gaze roamed over every surface, perhaps looking for some insight I hadn’t revealed. But she already knew every important aspect of my life. Time would fill in the rest.
We ate turkey and cheddar sandwiches on the bed, sitting in cross-legged positions, face to face with the plate between us. As she picked off the crust and licked the mayonnaise from her fingers, I didn’t like the way her shoulders drooped or how her movements slowed with exhaustion.
The long day of planning had come at a cost. Hell, the entire past month was catching up with her. To think that all these weeks she’d been enduring in some way, working through her heartache with regards to her family, without me.
It filled me with regret, knotting my insides and swelling an ache in my chest. Adding to that was my worry about tomorrow night. My head pounded with all the details I’d painstakingly implemented. I would remain at her side every second of the race, but what if I overlooked something?
I was terrified someone would try to take her away from me. I kept imagining Trent at the finish line, waiting for her to win and shooting her as she came through in last place. Collin had set up a meeting with him during the race to ensure he wouldn’t be there. But what if my trust in Collin had been squandered foolishly? And it would be a hired assassin pulling that trigger, not Trent.
I drew in a ragged breath. “We could leave tonight. Screw the race.”
She reached out and ran a fingertip down my cheek. “And let Trent keep his money to hire the best defense lawyers?” Her deep-blue eyes bore into mine, searching inside me. “We’ll always have races and fights and risks to contend with. As long as we tackle it together, we’ve got this, Logan. You and me. One race at a time.”
As I considered her words, the tension trickled from my body. There was something beautiful waiting at the finish line. Something better than a winning bet or one-night with a woman in silver leathers. The finish line was the starting point of our life together.
When she swallowed the final bite of her sandwich, I moved the plate to the floor. Our clothes followed. I dimmed the lights, leaving a subtle glow through the rafters, and rolled her into my arms. We both seemed content to just lay naked in bed, fingers trailing, legs entwining, and lips touching as if our bodies were seeking the connection our hearts had already found.
After a warm, endless moment, I broke the silence. “I own a villa in Italy.”
“Mmm.” Her cheek bounced against my chest with her smile. “That sounds better than Shitknob, Mexico.”
I traced the curve of her hip and pulled it tight against mine. “Benny can forge our identities for any country. It doesn’t have to be Italy.”
We didn’t have to leave the U.S. as long as we maintained a low profile.
“I don’t care where we go.” Her voice tumbled into a breathy laugh. “Though Collin may be more inclined to visit an Italian villa than a Mexican hut.”
We settled into silence, leaving my mind to wander once again through all the crazy, anxious bullshit that could keep us from reaching that Italian villa. I mentally traced every risk and concern until I found one that had never been fleshed out.
I gripped her shoulders and dragged her up the bed until her head lay on the pillow. When her gaze settled on mine, I ran a finger over her mouth and lingered on her chin. “The day Trent showed you the video”—she flinched, but I kept talking—“he followed you into the bathroom. Tell me what I walked in on.”
Her eyes slid closed, and my stomach tightened. Adrenaline surged through my body, and my muscles heated. Trent was a serial rapist. If Kaci was one of his victims, there was no way I’d be able to leave him alive.
“Did he—” My voice punched through the open space, powered by dread and fury. I sucked in a breath and tried to gentle my tone. “Did he rape you?”
She opened her eyes, and they glowed in the soft illumination that reflected off the ceiling. “He tried once. I was fifteen, too young to fight him off with anything but my words.”
The anger simmering in my chest exploded into a roaring fire. I was about to go fucking ballistic in a way I’d never allowed myself before. “Tell me what happened.” My voice shook with a thousand fears rising to the surface.
She placed a soothing hand on my cheek, her thumb stroking my clenched jaw. “We were in my father’s den. With his hand shoved in my panties, I told him
very convincingly—
her blue eyes flashed
—
I wouldn’t be quiet about it, during or after. I threatened to tell everyone, the cops, Collin, the media.”
My need to protect her seethed through my blood. My vision tunneled, and my heart banged against my ribs.
She rolled on top of me, her breasts pressed against my chest and her hands on my face. “Had I been anyone else, he would’ve taken what he wanted and quieted me permanently. But I wasn’t worth the risk. My parents suck, but if he killed their only child, that might’ve put a strain on their partnership.”
Her words were delivered with a shrugging kind of acceptance. It made me feel sick and helpless. I wanted to guard every moment of her life, including her past. I wanted to wipe away all the bad shit until there was nothing left but laughter and contentment. “The office bathroom…”
“He never tried to cross the line again, though he taunted me with it every chance he had. But you know what?” She touched her lips to my throat, producing a shiver that sliced through my anger. “I’ll never have to see him again.”
I guided her face to my chest, tucking her head beneath my chin, and we lay skin-to-skin for an eternal moment. I wished we were already in Italy with all my fears behind us.
It wasn't long before she rolled off me and dragged me with her, the brightness in her eyes begging for the one thing that could put our thoughts on hold. I crawled over her, bracing my arms on either side of her head, and devoured her with my eyes.
She looked so damned young. Her hair fell in shiny waves over the pillow, her skin flushed and smooth, yet her gaze was wise beyond her years.
Her lashes lowered, her lips parted, and her hips rocked against mine. I was instantly hard. I wanted all of her wrapped around me. Not just her pussy, but her need, her love, and her future. Our future.