Page 117 of False Start

Eve skated up to Marty and knocked into her shoulder while making a show of studying me. “Mmmm, not yet, but she’s close. I’ve seen that face.”

“Oh. My. God. Guys…stop!”

Priest leaned in, that fiery gaze of his on my mouth, but I pushed at his chest and watched him roll back on his skates. “No kissing.”

“That rule is retired. Permanently,” he said, coming to a stop. “Get your ass over here, Mayhem.”

“Fine,” I said as I pushed off and rolled right to him. “But keep it PG. You have a way of short-circuiting my systems and I’m pretty sure that’s cheating.”

He slanted that registered weapon of a mouth—the first go-to in his arsenal—and settled over mine, slow, soft, with a quick shot of pressure before he lifted his lips—just a glimpse at sexual energy rippling inside him.

“Now go,” I murmured giving him one last shove.

CAIN

I hadto force myself to concentrate because the look in Mayhem’s eyes right now—fierce, calculating, so fucking in tune with the players on the track—nailed me in every vulnerable spot I didn’t even know I had.

She’d been nailing me since the moment I rolled into town.

At the bout.

At The Shipwreck.

Definitely at Rockabilly’s.

Obliterating me when she climbed on that bar at Banked Track.

And she did it without even trying.

Lana blew the whistle with the lungs of a damn opera singer, setting us in motion. After the second whistle, Mayhem and Jackson pushed off the jam line, closing in on us.

Spotting left, then right, then back to the left again, I kept my eye on her, closing gaps, opening others, hoping to get my man Jackson through while shutting down every one of Mayhem’s attempts. Remy, Linc, and Dom kept pace with me, shifting as I did while staying on Mayhem’s teammates.

The pack made it halfway through the corner when Mayhem upped the pressure. Her height gave her an edge to get low and stay there. When there wasn’t a gap to be had, she was impressively adept at creating one.

Wedging herself sideways in between Remy and Linc, she gave them only illegal zones to hit, her back and front, making it impossible for them to do anything but try to squeeze her back out.

Pitching forward, she shimmied and broke through, her skate catching on Remy’s briefly while they tried to put the final squeeze on her. On takeoff, Remy and Linc collided with one another, leaving them tangled in each other’s skates before crashing to the floor.

“Get up! Get up! Get up!” I yelled as they tried to scramble to their feet.

“What the hell do you think I’m doing?” Linc shot back.

“Making out with my track. Jesus, Linc, you’re going have to get on your feet a hell of a lot faster than that.”

Jackson broke through the pack then, but even with the longer legs, she’d gained precious seconds and he’d never catch her.

“Get ready, she’s closing in,” I warned them as she made her way around, her eyes already searching for a way through us again.

We tightened up enough to make ourselves a wall on the track while stopping her blockers from opening up pockets for her to score, giving Jackson a few extra seconds to get around too and pressure her to call off the jam before he could score right alongside her.

“Don’t let her through. Don’t let her through…”

Mayhem went low, Tilly right there fighting to clear the way for her.

No fear between them on the track anymore, just pure concentration.

An ass beating had been the answer all along.

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