Page 35 of Claimed Bratva Virgin

He pulled up beside me, his car idling as he rolled down his window. His smirk was intact, but there was the edge of victory in his eyes. “You got lucky.”

Pfft.

Yezhovs and their frigging pride. It was the same thing Ivan said.

“Skill,” I corrected, stepping out of the car and tossing my helmet onto the seat. “But don’t feel too bad. I’ll admit, you put up a good fight.”

“Remind me never to underestimate you again.”

I smiled, feeling the rush of the race still thrumming in my veins. “Smart choice.”

With the adrenaline still coursing through us, we stepped off the track. The roar of engines no longer charged the air. We’d been so wrapped up in our own excitement that neither of us noticed when the track emptied of other cars, but the tension lingered, thick and electric in the evening air.

Quietly, I walked back to the stands and threw myself on one of the padded seats. Stretching my legs out, I peeled off my gloves, flexed my fingers, and reeled in the satisfying ache that reminded me of my triumph.

Rafayel approached with firm, confident strides and a glow in his eyes that I couldn’t decipher. The man radiated control. Even now, dressed casually with beads of perspiration dotting his upper lips and rolling down his carved jawline, his presence could still turn heads.

He stopped just close enough for the air between us to crackle.

Gazing up at him, I wiggled my fingers. “You owe me ten thousand dollars.”

When he carelessly ran his long, slender fingers through his hair, my gaze dipped to glimpse the fair skin on his torso when his shirt rode up above his belt.

“We didn’t finalize the bet, and I didn’t expect you to take that final corner so aggressively.”

I lifted my chin, meeting his gaze. “I didn’t expect you to leave me enough room to do it.”

Rafayel’s laughter was soft, almost indulgent, and when he laughed, there was this boyishness around him that erased the image of the rogue I was well accustomed to. I realized I enjoyed watching his eyes light up and the crinkle beside his lips deepen.

“I like a good challenge. You didn’t disappoint.”

Neither did he, though I wasn’t about to admit it again. It would spike his ego, and I wasn’t sure I could handle any more Yezhov pride tonight.

The heat of the race hadn’t dissipated, and standing this close to him, I wasn’t sure it ever would.

“I told you I was a pro.”

“At track.” I met his eyes when he tilted his head slightly. “Doesn’t mean you’re a pro at other things.”

“I never challenged that.”

“But I did. I challenged you.” His eyes were saying something his mouth wasn’t, and his gaze lingered like he wanted me to catch on. “And you told me I run my mouth too much.”

I didn’t get why he remained quiet, and when I pondered hard on it, it clicked.

Hismouth.

I grew hot all over again, remembering what he said.And you would be surprised how well I can put it to good use.

“Do you know the first thing I thought about when I watched you cross that finish line, Leonya?”

What could he have thought about except wallowing in defeat?

I was eager to hear it but, maybe, scared at the same time. Because…well, because I knew it was probably the first thing I thought about, too, the minute he walked into the shed this evening looking like the main dish on a gold platter.

Unable to speak, I shook my head.

Rafayel surprised me by dropping to his haunches in front of me. Now, we were at eye level, and I saw everything I’d been pretending not to notice from the minute we jammed paths again in that underground prison.

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