Page 87 of Revved up & Ready

When we’re both sated, exhausted, and cleaned up, we lie in bed together—me wearing one of his shirts and him wearing pajama pants low enough for me to read hisRide It Like You Stole Ittattoo.

“How was the race for you?” Cam asks, sitting up and drawing my head to his lap.

“It was magnificent,” I nuzzle against his leg. “You won. I love it when you win.”

“I love that too, but how did you feel being at the track?” he asks, brushing his fingers over the pink tips of my hair.

I blow out a breath. “I had a few moments that weren’tgreat. I really don’t like the chatter. Any way you could avoid that in the future?” I ask—half-joking, half-hopeful.

His brows furrow. “I hadn’t thought about how that might look to you. It makes the bike tougher to control, but I can handle a tough bike.” He must sense my concern because he adds, “We’re doing our best to make sure it doesn’t happen. That’s something Luke is constantly tuning to avoid, but it’s tough not to getsomechatter if I’m riding hard enough.”

I still don’t like that, but it’s better than a crash.“At least you’re keeping your bike upright.”

His fingers trace a soothing path along my scalp. “I’ve been lucky this season—only had two crashes. The first one—”

I cut off his explanation, sitting upright to face him. “What do you mean you crashed twice this season?” My heart pounds frantically. Even though I can see for myself that he’s fine, I hate the thought.

“I’ll tell you,” he says, his voice soothing as he reaches for me. “But why don’t you come here?”

When I move closer, he wraps his arm around my shoulders.

“I think both crashes happened between the first race you came to and when you started watching them on TV,” he explains. “During the first one, I was able to get back up and jump back into the race immediately—still finished top five.”

Of course, that’s what he thinks about—how it impacted the raceoutcome, not his body or safety.

“The other one my bike got pretty mangled, and I had to finish the race on my second bike, but I managed to pull some points that day too.”

What do I even say? I hate it. I hate this. I hate that it’s even a possibility. I don’t want to lose him.I decide not to say anything, resting my head on his shoulder instead.

“Do you think you’ve gotten comfortable with the idea of me racing by pretending I can’t get hurt?” he asks.

“Cutting right through the bullshit tonight, aren’t you, Hacker?” I snort a laugh.He called it when I hadn’t even realized it myself.

“The thing is, Icanget hurt,” he says. “It’s rare, but it can happen.”

My heart races again, but my mind doesn’t. “Can I just say that I hate that, and I don’t know what the fuck I’m supposed to do with it?”

“Yeah.” He nods, then kisses me on the temple. “That’s a good place to start. Did I tell you how happy I am that you’re here?” he asks.

Grateful that he’s shifting the conversation, I answer, “I don’t think so, but you were alittlebusy.”

“I was happier when I saw you than when I won that race,” he says, giving me a soft kiss.

It sounds like a line, but I know he’s being sincere.

“What about this one?” I ask, tapping the roaring cheetah tattoo on the side of his neck.

His chuckle is low. “Would you believe it has to do with speed?”

“I would.” I smile. “They’re the fastest land animal, aren’t they?”

“Yup,” he answers, turning so I can get a better look. “I actually got this one with Ludlow, the guy I’ve been chasing for number one.”

“Last I checked, you were in first place.” After today’s race, he’s pulled ahead by ten points—his first lead of the season.

“Still a chase.” He shakes his head, always balancing humility and arrogance. “We’re both obsessed with speed, so we got the cheetahs. His is on his arm, though. I’ll ask him to show you tomorrow if you want.”

Tomorrow.Because I’ll be back at the track tomorrow. For another race.

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