Page 66 of Dash

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

DASH

I bring the bike to a quick stop and jump up off it. I tear off my helmet and unzip my leather suit. I only unzip it far enough for me to remove my arms out of the sleeves. I’m sweating and fucking hot as hell.

“You need to take it easy,” a man wearing a Knight Racing shirt says as he kneels down next to the bike. “You’re gonna burn up the motor.”

“Well, fix it to where I won’t,” I snap back.

“It can only take so much. You’re pushing it too hard.”

“I’m doing what it’s made to do,” I growl. “If this motor can’t handle it, then fucking fix it.”

“Dash…” Mr. Knight says as he walks onto the racetrack. We’ve been at it all day, every day, for a week now. A fucking week and I still can’t get it right. “Let’s take a break.” He softly taps my shoulder. And I stretch my neck to each side, giving it a little crack. My back is sore, and my entire body is tight. I need to relax. I need to get laid.

I place my arms in my sleeves and start to pull my leathers up when Mr. Knight grabs it. “Take the rest of the day off.”

“Are you serious?” I ask wide-eyed. “We have a race in a week.”

“I am. You need a break, Erik. I need your head in the game, and we both know it’s not there.”

I throw my hands out to my side. “What do you want me to do?” I question. “I’m here. I’m racing. And I’m doing a damn good job, if I might add,” I say defensively. We’ve spent every day this week out at the track. Today they were having an open track day, and I paid the fee it required and jumped on the bike. I’ve whooped all of their asses. Hell, I’m a damn good rider, but I am going to be up against pros soon. And if I don’t qualify, then I won’t even get to race.

“So far, you’re driving reckless. It’s amazing you haven’t gone down yet while practicing this week. And you can’t race if you injure yourself.”

I hang my head and run my hand through my sweat-drenched hair. I know he’s right. I’ve been riding the bike too hard. I’ve been pushing it to the point it smoked. I’ve been going through tires like I go through beer on any given weekend. And even though I know he’s right, I continue to argue. “I’m doing what you hired me to do. And I’m getting a faster time every single time I get out on that track,” I say pointing to it.

“I’m not gonna tell you again,” he growls, getting tired of arguing with me. “Go home and blow off some steam.” He nods down to the mechanic who is kneeling by my bike. “Load it up,” he tells him and then looks back at me. “You gotta know when to quit, son.”

I spin around and tighten my left hand into a fist. If this helmet wasn’t my favorite, I would throw it to the fucking ground. Instead, I hold on to it. I quickly make my way back over to where I parked my car and pop the trunk. I place my helmet in it and peel my leathers off the rest of the way. I’m left in my boxers and Under Armor t-shirt that fits like a glove. You have to wear them or the leathers will rub your skin raw. I grab a new t-shirt out of the back of the trunk along with a pair of shorts and pull them on.

“Not gonna finish?” I hear Blake ask from behind me.

“Nope. I’ve been sent home for the day,” I inform him as if he didn’t just hear the conversation.

It’s been a week since I saw Tabatha at the party, and I haven’t told a soul what I saw. Not even Blake. He has to know that she’s seeing his brother. What hurts is that he hasn’t mentioned it to me, either. I’ve been avoiding all of them, especially her. It’s for the best. I have to get over her and we both need to move on. She obviously already has. And that brings me to Valerie. She would be very useful right now, if we were talking. But she has not called me since the night of my party when she confessed to cutting my brakes. So that is a no-go. The sad thing is that I would totally fuck her if given the chance. Women give us too much credit. We really are pieces of shit.

“Dash?” Mr. Knight hollers as he stands over by the bike. I turn to face him. “Change of plans. Meet me at my house. We need to go over a few things.” Then he dismisses me by turning back to the mechanic.

I slam my trunk closed and climb into my Bentley, not even bothering to say good-bye to Blake.

***

I walk into their house and make my way to the kitchen. I need a water. My mouth is dry, and all I’ve done today is sweat my ass off. I open up the fridge and grab a bottle. I twist the lid off and turn around to leave when I pause the bottle at my lips. There sitting at the kitchen table is Tabatha. She’s staring at me with wide eyes and open mouth. God, it’s hard to look at her after what I saw. But I can’t look away, either.

“Dash,” she breathes, and my cock starts to harden remembering what her breath felt like on my neck when we were in bed. Then I remember the fact that my best friend’s brother is also experiencing that side of her. Bitch! “What are you doing here?” She licks her lips as if they’re dry.

I clear my throat. “I have a meeting with your father.”

She nods, and I watch her swallow nervously. “I’ve been trying to call you.”

“I know.” I’ve been ignoring them.

She hangs her head for a second, and I take the chance to drink some of my water. “I wanted to tell you thank you,” she says softly.

I swallow and pull the bottle of water slowly away from my lips. “For what?”

She licks her lips and it reminds me of the taste of them on mine. How soft they were wrapped around my cock…Stop, Dash! “For what you did to Rodger,” she whispers.

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