Page 149 of The Charlie Method

It’s eerie being at a racetrack at night. The dark, empty grandstand is unnerving, and as we walk by it, I keep expecting a knife-wielding killer to jump out of the shadows and fillet us. When we reach the edge of the track, my pulse speeds up. Overhead, the winter sky is dotted with stars. The asphalt beneath our feet is dimly lit under the moon, but the red Ferrari parked on it gleams like a live wire.

Charlie shrugs out of her jacket and gestures for me to do the same. We leave our stuff on a nearby ledge, and I grin as she stalks toward the Ferrari with honest-to-God hunger in her eyes.

I can’t wrap my head around the fact that she comes all the way out here in the middle of the night to drive sports cars. If you told me that my prim little sugar puff did this sort of stuff for fun, I would’ve laughed in your face.

“You seriously do this? Like, all the time?”

She casts a mischievous smile over her shoulder. “It’s my thing. My way to let off steam.”

“Most people hit the gym or, I don’t know, eat ice cream when they’re stressed.”

“I’m not most people.”

No, she’s really not.

I walk to the sports car, running my hand over the smooth, red metal. “This is crazy in the best way possible.”

“Wait until you’re actually in the car.”

Before I can respond, she slides into the driver’s seat like she owns the thing, and the sound of the door latching echoes in the still night. She motions for me to join her. My heart kicks into overdrive, anticipation tickling my gut as I climb in beside her. I sink into the passenger seat, surrounded by the smell of leather and gasoline.

When Charlie revs the engine, I swear Ifeelthe power of it. The low, throaty growl vibrates down my spine and makes my balls tingle.

“Buckle up,” she warns, her eyes glinting under the dashboard lights. “I don’t do slow.”

“Oh yeah? Show me what you got, baby.”

Without another word, she shifts into gear and floors the gas pedal, and we shoot forward so fast I’m slammed back into my seat.

“Holy shit!” I grip the door handle for dear life.

Charlie laughs. A wild, carefree laugh that sends ripples of lust right to my dick.

“Hold on,baby,” she mimics. “This is just the warm-up.”

She takes the first turn at what feels like an impossible speed, but I’m relieved to see how in control she is, how easily she navigates the curves, her hands fluid on the wheel. She’s clearly done this often. And it’s…hot. Terrifying, but hot.

“This is bloody awesome!”

“I told you!” she answers over the roar of the engine. Her gaze never leaves the track as we hit another sharp bend. “It makes me feel free, you know? No pressure, no expectations. Just me, the car, and the speed.”

I’m seeing her in an entirely different light tonight. Completely in her element. Confident. Wild. Free. It brings a strange clench of emotion to my chest, a sense of…longing.

But I force myself to ignore it. I’m not catching feelings for this girl. I just like how adventurous she is.

We speed through the next stretch, the track flying by. I can’t stop grinning. Will is going to be jealous that he missed out on this. His dumb ass decided to go drinking with Colson tonight.

Suddenly, we’re taking a hairpin turn at what feels like light speed. The Ferrari drifts, and for a moment, I feel like we’re flying.

“Charlie, swear to God, if we crash this thing, I’m haunting you from the afterlife,” I say, but my laughter bubbles up, my adrenaline feeding into hers.

She just grins and hits the gas again. The track stretches out before us, a blur of asphalt and floodlights as she pushes the Ferrari faster, the speedometer climbing higher with each passing second.

“Do I really not get to drive?” I demand.

“Nope. Dante will kill me.”

“Aw, please? I didn’t come all the way out here just to ride shotgun.”

---