Page 31 of Knot Made to Break: Part Two

“You’re the gorgeous one, Angel,” I said, my voice dropping lower, feeling her pulse quicken under my lips.

The weight of the keys felt significant in my palm as I reached around, dangling them in front of her face. The silver Bugatti emblem caught the light, spinning slightly. Kit stilled in my arms, her breathing pausing for a moment before she turned in my embrace, confusion clear in her furrowed brow.

“You want me to drive? Your brand new super expensive car?” The disbelief in her voice was almost comical. Like I’d suggested she fly to the moon or something.

I pulled her closer, one hand settling on the small of her back. “You know why I love cars so much?”

Her eyes searched my face, curious. “Because they’re fast and expensive?”

I laughed, shaking my head. “That’s part of it. But it’s more than that.” I traced her jawline with my thumb, watching her eyes soften at my touch. “When I’m behind the wheel, everything else disappears. All the noise in my head, all the shit we deal with day to day—it’s just me and the road. Complete control, complete freedom.”

Kit’s expression shifted to understanding. She knew about my ADHD, how I struggled with the constant buzz under my skin, the need for movement, for speed, for something to focus my mind on.

“Driving has always been my escape,” I continued, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear. “My therapy, when everything gets too fucking loud in here.” I tapped my temple.

Her hand came up to cover mine, her touch gentle. The understanding in her eyes meant more than she could know. Most people saw my love for speed as recklessness, as showing off. Kit saw beneath that, to what it really was—a need for peace.

“So yeah, Angel,” I whispered against her ear, feeling her pulse quicken beneath my fingers. “Today, you drive.”

“But—” she started, her eyes darting back to the car. “Marco, this thing costs more than most people make in their lifetime. What if I—”

“You won’t,” I assured her, pressing the keys into her palm and closing her fingers around them. “I trust you.”

Those three simple words hung between us.

I trust you.

For Kit, whose trust had been violated in every way, repeatedly, those words carried weight. For me, whose trust didn’t come easy after years in this life, they meant just as much.

A subtle tremor ran through her hands as she took the keys. I could tell it was from a mix of excitement and nervousness, and it made me want to both protect her and push her further all at once. That was the thing about Kit—she awakened thesecontradictory instincts in me. The need to shelter her warring with the desire to watch her spread her wings.

“I haven’t driven in years,” she admitted softly. “Not since before...”

Before she was sold to the Valentinos. The unspoken words hung heavy between us. My jaw clenched at the reminder of what she’d been through, but I forced my expression to remain encouraging. This wasn’t about the past. This was about now. About us.

“It’s like riding a bike,” I assured her, guiding her toward the driver’s side door. “And I’ll be right beside you.”

I opened the door for her, watching as she slid into the buttery leather seat, her hands automatically reaching for the steering wheel. The interior still had that indefinable scent that only came with luxury vehicles. I circled around to the passenger side, sliding in beside her.

Kit adjusted the seat, moving it forward to accommodate her shorter frame. Her fingers fluttered over the sophisticated dashboard, taking in the array of buttons and screens.

“This is a little more complicated than the Honda Civic I learned on,” she muttered, but there was determination beneath her nervous laughter.

“Start with the basics,” I coached, leaning over to help her adjust the mirrors. “Ignition, gas, brake. The rest is just window dressing.”

She took a deep breath before turning it. The engine roared to life, a powerful sound that vibrated through the entire car. Kit’s eyes widened, her lips parting in surprise at the raw power now at her fingertips.

“Fuck,” she whispered, her hands gripping the wheel tighter.

I couldn’t wait to tell my brothers I’d gotten not one buttwonaughty words out of her this afternoon. It was becoming myfavorite pastime, finding new ways to tempt my sexy Angel to sin.

I watched her chest rise and fall with quickened breaths, could practically feel the adrenaline beginning to course through her veins.

“It responds to the lightest touch,” I explained, my hand covering hers on the gearshift. “Treat it like an extension of yourself.”

Kit nodded, a new focus settling over her features as she shifted into drive. The nervousness was still there, visible in the slight tension in her shoulders, but there was something else too—a growing confidence that was fucking beautiful to witness.

She eased the car forward, navigating slowly through the rows of parked vehicles toward the garage exit. With each second, I could see her relaxing more into the seat, her grip on the wheel becoming less white-knuckled.

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