Page 86 of Knot So Fast
"You have no idea."
But I think I do.
Or at least, I'm starting to.
Because this feeling—this mixture of triumph and desire and pure, unadulterated life—this is what I've been searching for in all those late-night gaming sessions and careful conversations with friends who couldn't tell me the whole truth.
This is who I am when I'm not being protected from myself.
And honestly?
I can get used to this exhilarating lifestyle of lust and drive.
THRIVING ON CLOUD NINE
~LACHLAN~
I don't rememberhow we make it to the suite.
The world between the finish line and this elevator I forgot is needed to take them to his specific award winning private suite. It’s a blur of riotous applause, flashes from cameras, the omnipresent screech of tires, and Auren's hand in mine. I’m vaguely aware of security parting a path through the crowd, of rival drivers and officials staring at us with something between awe and envy and fear, but it’s all white noise next to the thudding in my veins.
Every part of me is keyed up, vibrating with victory and lust and a need I can barely recognize as my own because I have never—never—let myself lose control like this.
By the time the elevator doors close behind us, cutting off the stadium noise and the shrillness of a million prying eyes, I'm not even pretending to hold it together. My fists are clenched, my jaw aching with the effort to keep from dragging her to the floor right here and fucking her senseless. My cock is a live wire against the zipper of my race suit.
My body wants to mark her so thoroughly that no one would ever dare call her anything but mine.
Auren's watching me, of course, with that feral, delighted little smirk she gets when she knows exactly how much she's unraveling me. Her hair is everywhere—wild and electric, a tangle of black and magenta and violet strands that makes her look both regal and utterly untamed. Her lips are still swollen from the victory kiss on the track, lipstick smeared so artfully it might as well be war paint.
The neck of her suit is half-unzipped, exposing the hollow of her throat, the faint shimmer of sweat on her collarbone, the pulse hammering in her skin like a dare.
She doesn't say anything.
Just bites her lower lip and meets my gaze, pupils blown so wide there's almost no color left at all. The elevator hums, floor numbers ticking up in a lazy blue font on the glass panel above the door.
The tension stretches between us—thick, charged, so potent it might actually kill me. I don’t know if she’s waiting for me to crack, or if she’s savoring this moment before the inevitable, or if she wants me to make the first move. But I can’t look away. I can’t do anything but drink her in and burn the image into memory, as if there’s a chance I’ll ever lose her again.
She’s the first to break the silence.
“You’re staring, Wolf,” she says. Her voice is lower than usual, threaded with something soft and dangerous.
“Can’t help it,” I manage. Even to my own ears, I sound hoarse. “You’re a fucking vision.”
Her mouth twitches, but she doesn’t look away.
“You gonna keep worshipping me, or are you going to actually do something about it?”
I don’t remember moving, but suddenly she’s backed up against the elevator wall and I’m crowding into her space, bothhands braced on either side of her head. She looks up at me, chin lifted, that same defiant confidence she’s always had—like she knows exactly how much power she has over me and relishes every ounce of it.
“You want me to do something?” I growl, pitching my voice low enough that it shivers between us. “Because if I start, I’m not going to stop until you’re begging.”
Auren’s eyes flick down to my mouth, then back up.
“Big promises, Wolfe,” she says. “You sure you can deliver?”
I take her face in my hands—gentler than I mean to be, because I could never really hurt her, but firm enough to let her feel the tremor in my fingers.
“You have no idea what you do to me, do you?”
