Page 71 of Midnight Racers

The way he said it made it sound sexy as hell, when in reality he was talking about shoving that nine-inch monster of his up my very small and tight ass. Even so, the image he created made my thighs tighten together since my panties felt too small and damp.

His fingertip traced from my lip down my chin, creating a trail down my throat and ultimately between my breasts. “At a certain point, sex is no longer about scratching an itch but about two people forging a bond.” His hand dipped under my vest top to caress my breast. “Solidifying a connection that means commitment and security.”

My breath caught in my throat. What was he trying to say?

We were hiding from an unknown enemy, yet it felt like we were in our very own cocoon here in this carpark. His fingertips left electrical impulses on my skin, his gaze burning through my resistance. This was what happened every time we were close to each other, a chemistry that ignited in my blood and demanded a sacrifice of flesh.

I moaned when his nail flicked over my nipple, his fingers massaging my breast.

“I thought you weren’t speaking to me because we kissed at work and Joshua nearly discovered us.” I couldn’t stop myself leaning further into his touch because it felt too damn good.

“I was pissed that I lost control.” His head came closer to mine. “I never fucking lost control until you came along.”

“What do we do now?” I whispered.

“We stay here for a while, then we go home and I figure out what the fuck is going on.” His hand released my breast to cup the side of my face. “I won’t let them harm you.”

A tear escaped without my permission and he dashed it away with his thumb. “I don’t want anyone getting hurt for me.”

His thumb traced over my lower lip. “I think it’s a bit late to try and stop people caring for you, Charlotte.”

He was the only one who called me that except for Mum, yet, it always felt right on his lips. My entire life I had tried to fit into a masculine world, until Flynn. He made me want to be feminine, with all the frills and curves that went with it. I hadn’t packed any of my white cotton panties. Everything in my underwear drawer at his home consisted of silk and lace.

“That works both ways, Flynn. I don’t want you hurt over technology for an engine. If that’s what is going on here, then I’d rather hand it over and walk away.”

“Fuck that!” he exploded. “Our team is going to win, and Dale can choke on my exhaust fumes.”

“I mean it, Flynn.” I was trying my best to be strong about this situation, but my focus on what was important had tilted beyond recognition in the past few weeks.

“So do I, Charlotte. There is no way I’m going to let some asshole win just because he thought it was okay to threaten you. The only response to that type of behaviour is a hard and fast retaliation.” He pushed himself up to glance out the window. “I’m going to try and get us home. If they had a tracker on any of your stuff, it should have led them to us by now.”

The world he lived in used an entirely different language to the world I had grown up in. He spoke of violence without batting an eye, he used his body as a weapon without breaking a sweat, and Flynn was jealous and possessive without making me feel suppressed.

He turned on the engine and put it into first gear while I put my seat up and tried to steady my breathing.

“Leave all your stuff in the garage when we get home. I’ll scan it for trackers or any other devices. My garage has built-in suppression for radio signals.” I had zero idea what most of that meant except the part about leaving my bags in the garage.

“Could someone follow us because of my possessions?” I asked, foreboding churning in my stomach.

“I dare them to,” Flynn replied, his tone hard as granite. “Let me assure you none of them will succeed.”

I watched the wing mirror constantly all the way home in case one of those black cars appeared again. I didn’t realise how tight my muscles were until I tried to get out of the car when we got back home. Everything ached, including my jaw. My hands had been in tight fists and my neck stiff.

“Let’s get Pixie settled,” Flynn said, watching me as if he thought I was going to run away.

“I need some fresh air,” I replied, the world swimming around me and nausea making me run for the small toilet off the main work area of the garage. I held my hair back as I vomited up my lunch from earlier.

“Maybe you should take a few days off work,” Flynn said from the doorway.

I groaned. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough to see how this stress is affecting you.”

I slumped back against the wall. “Maybe it was what I ate for lunch,” I replied.

He crouched beside me, pulling my hair back, and wiping my face with a towel he’d dampened. “I doubt it.”

I let him take my weight, his warm arm sliding around my waist. “I’m sorry about this,” I muttered.

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