Page 87 of Throttle

What are we doing to each other?

TWENTY-SIX

Throttle

I’m tempted. Tempted to bash in her door and make her come so hard, I’ll claim her for an eternity.

Own her.

Cherish her.

Love her.

Ha. Was I capable of such things? Given the damage I caused, does she have any desire for me anymore? Fear ruined my chances, but is there still hope? Can I ensure her happiness while protecting her from my enemies?

Frank's words are stuck in my head… let her be the judge of whether you deserve her. Annoying old man.

She’s strong. Her ability to make smart choices is clear, but is there a way for me to win her over, even though I'm trouble?

Could it be that making her my ol' lady is the best outcome for me? Hell yeah, but it could also be the worst. Nothing terrifies me more than the thought of sealing her fate with destruction and causing her harm. And I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if anything happened to Tequila.

She might leave here once she graduates and becomes a teacher. Move on from this club and this chapter of her life. That way, I won't have to pick. She would choose herself. Exactly as Frank said to let her do.

I didn't plan on racing, but why the hell not?

We have no information about the bikers who came to the shower and harassed the girls. Not sure if we will. They wore cuts, but no title. No club name. And such failure adds to the ticking time bomb swimming within my blood. Regardless, this could mean war and our enemy list keeps growing.

Bullet continues to give updates on the van, but they have not moved from their positions. Most likely keeping a low profile for a bit. With obvious good reason. I’m sure they suspect something, considering I was sneaking around their warehouse and under their means of transportation.

As I speed through the bowl, my adrenaline surges when I spot Tequila cheering for me in the stands. Regardless of our present situation, trapped in this uncomfortable tension, she has never skipped a race. It's my selfishness that brings me joy. Seeing her is enough to get my blood flowing and racing like a damn champion.

I don’t deserve her.

Time seems to slow as our eyes meet beneath my helmet. Her smile. Her hair. All her beauty. It gets me high on life—makes me live.

I overtake one of my opponents while jumping the hill and navigate the turn with precision. My goggles get sprayed with mud as I race past the finish line. Not first place, but second is good enough.

“Don’t hug me. I have grime and sweat for days.” I toss my helmet as Tequila jogs toward me, her long hair blowing in the breeze.

“It’s tradition. I have to hug you.”

We share a tight embrace, with her arms wrapped around my neck and mine encircling her back, keeping us connected. If only I could never let go.

“You did good.” She lifts a piece of hair matted to my forehead and I grab her hand in mine, not caring about touching her even more.

“Thanks for coming. I don’t think I’d win without you here.”

“And you don’t give yourself enough credit.”

I smile. My heart smiles. My dick smiles. “Come get food with me.” Like before. I want to say, like we used to.

“I… I can’t. I need to get back.” She places a gentle hand to my forearm and my body warms, even though I’m already sweating. That’s what it’s like to be touched by her.

“Then wait for me. I’ll follow you back.”

“I’ll be fine.”

Ugh. She’s stubborn like me. I’ll give her this one and only request.

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