Page 7 of Tipping Point

Right.

I never fuck before a race. I like the buildup of tension. It helps me. Makes me angry. Angry makes me push back when I drive. Makes me push down all that shit that boils to the surface when I’m going two hundred miles an hour and I’m fighting the G-force and my head and helmet weigh down on me like a ton of bricks. When a twitch on the steering wheel can mean life or death.

“And I meant it,” I murmur against her skin.

Her hands, now roving over my shoulders, slow down, stalls.

I take a step back. Her neck is red where my beard scratched against it.

I need to shave.

Her big brown eyes narrow suspiciously.

The doors ping open, and I step through them backwards, halt on the threshold, blocking her from following me.

“Finn.” She raises a hand to her chest. “You’re saying no?” Her fingers graze over her breast.

“I’m saying not tonight.”

I see a flash of frustration in her eyes, but she handles me. She hasn’t given up yet. Her red lips part in a brilliant smile and she tosses her hair over her shoulder. Her hand travels lower, skimming over the silk on her stomach.

She’s good.

She’s used to fucking the rich and famous.

Her hand dips lower. She gives a slight moan as she reaches her thighs, pressed together, pushing her hand deeper through the silk.

“You’re just going to leave me like this?” she breathes.

“Yes,” I say.

The doors close. I catch a look of fury before the doors shut entirely and I sigh.

In my suite, I grab a beer from the fridge and fall down on the couch. I have a full on erection. That fucking silky red dress.

I am happily furious.

I take in the view from the suite. The whole of Melbourne stretches out below, moving car lights and neon street signs. It’s a great city. Delta Victor never minds spending the big bucks. Compared to the top three teams, this is pocket change. They’re banking serious money.

My phone rings, and I pull it from my pocket. It’s my agent.

“Finn?”

“Yeah.”

“I spoke to the team at Delta Victor.”

I grunt.

“They’re sorry it got leaked to the press so early, but it’s true.”

“No renewal,” I say.

“I’m sorry, Finn. I can shop around with the other teams.”

“You’ve been shopping around the last two years. Let’s get real about it. What’s your opinion?”

He’s quiet for a moment.

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