“Thanks,” I said as I caught it at my chest.
Something to do. Anything …
I reached down and brushed off the droplets of rain that had drenched my legs, and then slipped out of my flip-flops to pat my feet dry.
I hadn’t gotten completely soaked, and Jax had driven the car as close to the school as he could, but I still caught an onslaught of fat drops. My clothes were blotched with nickel-size circles, and some of my hair was sticking to my neck and shoulders.
Brushing up my thighs, I straightened my back against the seat and wiped the water off my bare arms.
But I was still shit out of luck.
He was watching me, and I could damn well feel it.
Turning around, I placed the towel in the backseat again and stilled when the grumbling of my stomach—evidence that I hadn’t eaten since breakfast—burst forth in the otherwise quiet car.
Shit. I twisted back around and fastened my seat belt, hoping he hadn’t heard it.
No such luck.
“Are you hungry?” Jax looked over at me. “I have some snacks if you want.”
“No, I’m fine,” I mumbled, not making eye contact.
But then my belly whirred again, and I closed my eyes and wrapped my arms around my stomach, melting into the seat.
“Oh, for Christ’s sake,” he chuckled, and I opened my eyes to see him reaching behind the seat again and digging a container out of his duffel bag. “Eat,” he ordered, dumping a plastic Tupperware container in my lap.
I pursed my lips. Why did he have to sound so condescending all the time?
“I’m fine,” I said flatly, turning my glare out the window. “I’ll be home soon anyway.”
“So I can give you a ride home, but you won’t eat my food?”
My eyes widened, and I looked over at him. “You made me let you give me a ride home,” I pointed out, and then added quietly, “Which I appreciate. Of course.”
I shook my head, unable to keep the small smile from my lips.
“Fine,” I grumbled. “I’ll eat.”
And it took me no damn time to peel the lid off the container and smile at the watermelon chunks inside. Picking one out with my thumb and index finger, I joked. “Fruit?” I asked. “I’d never pictured you chopping watermelon, Jax.”
“But you pictured me,” he deadpanned, his cocky lips twisting up as he pulled the shifter down, powering ahead as if he knew everything.
I rolled my eyes, not even entertaining the idea of walking into that one any further. Sliding a piece of watermelon between my teeth, I bit the red cube in half, loving the grainy texture against my tongue. Sweet juice filled my mouth, and my stomach growled again, in appreciation.
Sucking the nectar to the back of my tongue, I swallowed and placed a hand over my mouth. “This is really good.” I nearly laughed, because I hadn’t realized how hungry I was. “Thanks.”
But glancing over at Jax, I lost my smile immediately. His straight face was focused out on the road, and he looked almost angry. The car had slowed, and an air of awkwardness had settled in his narrowed eyes.
“Am I eating your lunch?” I asked, all of a sudden feeling angry that he had bullied me into eating. “I told you I was fine—”
He cut me off. “Eat. Please.”
And I saw his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed, looking unsettled.
Unsure about his change in mood, I couldn’t figure out what to do. So I finally just continued munching, feeling the void in my stomach filling as Jax drove us through waterlogged streets.
Crossfade’s “The Deep End” filled the space around us, and I was lost, barely trying to hide how I watched him.
He did the whole guy thing as he drove—body pressed into the seat back, arm steel-rod straight on the steering wheel at twelve o’clock, and chin down. But whenever he shifted up or down, my gaze flashed to his hand, reveling in the cords of his forearm and how they flexed when he changed speeds. And I loved how the car gained momentum and the engine roared and vibrated, making my thighs shake.
I wanted to be able to drive like that.
I’d never asked Liam to teach me, even though he probably would have. Aside from all the damn cheating, my boyfriend—er, ex-boyfriend—was actually a nice guy and easy to get along with.
But I never thought I could learn. Which was stupid. I held my own in school. It wasn’t as though I was incapable of learning something new.
I kept eating, glancing down every time he shifted to watch him. Trying to memorize how he timed pressing in the clutch with shifting the gears and chewing as I studied his legs and arms all working to keep the car going.
My mother had taken me to the symphony in Chicago when I was little, and I remember watching the conductor while everyone else watched the musicians. The power of leading, of knowing when to push and pull, fascinated me. I was envious of having control like that. Of guiding so many instruments in a unified effort to create something so beautiful. It was like a magnificent puzzle, and you just had to find the right way—or maybe just your way—to fit them all together.
I chewed softly, watching Jax, my eyes moving up and down, following his movements, and I knew damn well that given the choice of the conductor or Jaxon Trent, I’d watch Jaxon Trent.
His long fingers clutching the shift, the muscular calves flexing every time they punched the clutch, the blue eyes that I swore turned black and intense as they stared out the window.
I could watch him work his car forever.
“You need to stop watching me like that.” I heard his voice, and I jerked my attention up to his face.
Shit!
He was still staring out the windshield, lips slightly open and looking cautious.
“What?” I asked, trying to act as though I didn’t know what he was talking about, and I wasn’t just drooling over his driving. But it was useless. My cheeks had warmed, and I’m sure it showed.
“You’re going to get us in a fucking accident,” he scolded.
I scowled. “Me? What did I do?”
He shook his head, letting out a small laugh. “Do me a favor, would you?” His voice was soft and smooth, threatening in how quickly he turned sensual.
He shot his eyes to me, and I closed my mouth, gulping the bit of watermelon I’d been chewing. Why the hell was he looking at me like that?
He jerked his chin at me. “The watermelon juice spilling over your lip?” he indicated. “Lick it up or I will.”
I dropped the piece in my hand and stared at him, stunned and hoping he was kidding. The dare in his eyes, the menace in his soft voice, the danger traveling from his side of the car over to mine—it was no joke. I blinked and turned my gaze back out the front windshield.
Fuck my life.
Darting out my tongue, I snatched up any remnants of juice from my lips and sealed the container back up.
My phone began chirping from my bag, and I reached down to retrieve it, thankful for the distraction. But looking at the screen, I winced.
My mother again. She’d called twice and had now sent another text.
Tate’s house. Ten minutes.
I shook my head and stuffed the phone back into my bag, swallowing the bad taste in my mouth. What the hell did she want?
First she didn’t even bother to make sure I made it home okay, and only a few days later she was calling and texting. Maybe she just couldn’t stand the fact that I hadn’t called her, but all I knew for sure was that I didn’t want to see her. Not today and maybe not for a while.
“Who was that?” Jax questioned.
I sighed, still looking out the window. Why lie? “My mom. She’s waiting at Tate’s house.”
“Why?”
I shrugged, feeling the sadness descend on me. It wasn’t that I wouldn’t talk to him. I couldn’t. Who knew what would happen if I tried opening my mouth right now? And how easily the thought of her face, her voice, her presence had sucked dry the blissful little bubble I’d just been in?
“How am I supposed to know?” I griped. “You ask too many questions.”
I didn’t want to see her. I didn’t want to hear her voice. I didn’t want her hands on me.
I pursed my lips together, avoiding Jax’s eyes that I could feel on the back of my head.
We rounded the corner onto Fall Away Lane, the weight of the rain barely affecting the speed at which Jax traveled.
I closed my eyes. Please keep going. Please. I clutched the door handle, the hollow ache in my stomach growing as he traveled closer and closer.
Three seconds.
Two.
And then one.
But he didn’t stop.
He didn’t stop! My eyes went wide, and I spun my head around to see his self-satisfied eyebrow arched.
“What are you doing? Where are you going?” I blurted out, planting my right hand on the dash to support myself as he picked up speed again.
“You want to go home?” he challenged.
No. “Uh … um,” I stuttered.
“Good.” He smiled at me and shifted into a higher gear—I could only tell because the speed picked up again. “I can relate,” he sympathized. “I wouldn’t want to see my parents, either.”
“Okayyy,” I drawled. “So, where do you think you’re taking me?”
He didn’t answer. He turned up the music and forged ahead through the dense storm and deserted streets.
CHAPTER 6
K.C.
The Loop was the town’s unofficial racing ring. Frequented throughout high school by every guy with a car to race or money to bet, it was nothing more than a dirt track circling a very large pond on the Benson Farm property.
Or it used to be.
“Jax, I think you should just take me home,” I said, trying to hide the bite from my voice as we turned onto the long driveway leading only one place.
I hated the Loop.
I hated cars. I hated not knowing about cars. I hated that my ex-boyfriend had met another girl here in high school. I hated that everyone was comfortable here except me.
And I hated that I was so insecure and ignorant that I was no more than wallpaper during events here.
“I’ve got you alone,” Jax teased. “And you’re not looking at me like I just pissed on your Prada for once,” he continued. “Let’s have some fun.”
I scowled. “Um, unless your plan is to get me naked—which won’t happen—I can’t imagine why you thought this would be fun for either one of us. I mean, what am I supposed to do here?”
“Drive.”
My heart pitter-pattered. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
What? But … how? I couldn’t drive a stick! I tapped my feet, ready to dive out of the car, and I barely noticed that the crackle of gravel had disappeared under the tires.
I sucked in air, trying to fucking decide which battle to fight first. “Is the track paved now?” I blurted out.
The track now sported a concrete foundation, and it had been doubled in width. A few small sets of bleachers sat off to the side, and where viewers had once parked on the grass to the sides, now there was a set space.
“Jax?” I mumbled, taking in what I could through the blur of the rain. Were those stoplights at the finish line? And I looked off to the left. Was that a stand for the … announcer? Seriously?
“What’s happened here?”
“Look at me,” Jax ordered, ignoring my damn question.
I turned and met his eyes, forgetting my own damn question.
He pulled to a stop and set the parking brake. “How many guys have you had sex with other than Liam?”
My eyebrows did a nosedive. “Are you for real? Just get me out of here.”
What the hell was he doing?
His voice stayed light, with the hint of a laugh, as he held up his hands in defense. “I’m not trying to piss you off, Precious,” he teased, leaning his head back against the headrest and peering over at me. “I’m trying to make a point, okay? Driving a stick is like sex,” he stated.
“Every person you’re with is different. They’re like a code that needs to be broken.” He turned and ran his hands up both sides of the steering wheel, slow and smooth. “What parts like to be touched.” His sensual voice started stirring its way through my body. “Licked. Sucked. Bitten.”
Holy hell.
“Hell, some people don’t even need to be touched,” he pointed out. “Looking, teasing, playing mind games—everyone has that spot that jacks them into sixth gear, K.C.” And I stared, watching his every move as he turned and looked at me, speaking softly. “And this car is no different.”
“First, you have to find the clutch,” he instructed, and I yelped when he slammed his foot down, pushing in the lever. Jesus.
Releasing the parking brake, he placed one hand on the wheel and the other on the stick in sweet, luscious perversion.
“Then you have the gas.” He smirked, and his eyes stayed on me as he revved the engine but didn’t go anywhere. “Working the two together, you find the sweet spot. The point where she lets you take control.”
She?
“Push it.” He tapped the leg pressing into the clutch, and I licked my lips frantically, because my mouth was so dry. “And then accelerate her slowly”—he tapped the gas leg, and I heard him rev the engine again—“as you release her clutch … slowly.”
His legs moved, one coming up and the other moving down.
“Give-and-take,” he continued, eyes still holding me. “If I push her too fast, she crumbles.” He released the clutch, and I bobbed with the car as it died.
He pressed in the clutch and the brake and turned the key to the ignition again. “If I don’t push her fast enough, she’ll never move.” And he held in the clutch, unmoving, as he revved the engine with no success. “Push and pull. Accelerate and release.” I watched his legs work, releasing the clutch and accelerating the gas.
With my legs throbbing under me, I stared wide-eyed as Jax released the clutch and pressed the gas, vaulting down the track.
Grabbing hold of the dash, I peered outside at the vacant lane and let a small smile creep across my lips. It was definitely more fun being in the car than off to the side as a spectator. But I wanted to drive. I’d always been in awe of Jared and Tate, and I’d always wanted to learn, too.
“Eyes on me,” Jax barked.
I twisted my head over to him and sat back.
“Manual transmissions are like sex to get them going, but they’re also like sex to keep them going. Sometimes you have to change gears, speeding up or”—he turned his head to look at me—“slowing down when you need to.”
He jammed in the clutch and yanked the shifter down, released the clutch, and gassed it again. As we powered ahead, he did the same thing again, only he shifted up and to the right this time.
“Every time you change gears, you simply need to press the right buttons and find the magic spot again. When you want to speed up, shift up. When you want to slow down, shift down.” And he tapped the head of the shifter, indicating the diagram to where the levels were.
He circled the whole track, slowing down and shifting down when he rounded the corners and then speeding, shifting, and then speeding more when he accelerated. His legs, long and powerful, were in complete sync with whatever his arms were doing, and even though the car swerved in the rain and even spun out a little on the slick turns, Jax was like a conductor, pressing, releasing, shifting, and pushing.
Pressing, releasing, shifting, and pushing. Over and over again with my body jerking every time he yanked it up a notch.
My ass and thighs vibrated under me in time with the engine, and I warmed everywhere.
My gaze fell to his face, and a light sheen of sweat on the hollows of his cheeks made his olive skin even more beautiful.
I heard him laugh. “Stop looking at me like that, K.C.,” he warned. Shit. I blinked, clearing my throat. “My turn,” I changed the subject.
Turning to look out the f
ront windshield, I rubbed my thighs together to dull the burn between my legs.
“Well, that was easy.” I could hear the laughter in his voice as he pulled to a stop at the finish/start line. “I’m actually honored that you let me teach you instead of Liam.”
“Don’t be,” I shot back, my guard going up. “I never asked Liam. I don’t want to go home, and you’re here, so …”
His eyes narrowed. “For that, I’m half tempted to make you sit in my lap while you drive,” he threatened.
I rolled my eyes and jerked my chin. “It’s raining. You hop out, and I’ll slide over.”
He twisted up his lips in irritation. “Yes, Princess.”
I ignored the barb as he opened the door, a flash of lightning and a roll of thunder filling the car. Biting my bottom lip to stifle the nervous tremble, I swung my legs over the console and grabbed the steering wheel, hauling myself into his seat, still warm from his body.
My fingers wrapped around his thick wheel, and the body heat he’d left behind on the seat spread through my belly and down my thighs. Rain pummeled the roof and hood, and I could barely see anything but his dark shadow rounding the car to the passenger side.
He opened the door and storm sounds flooded inside again.
“Thanks,” he bit out, crashing into the seat and shaking water off his arms. His long black shorts shone with rain, and his gray T-shirt was now a little darker.
And suctioned to his skin, making every dip and ridge of his abs and chest completely visible.
“You okay, Princess?” I asked, trying to look innocent.
He slicked back his hair and put on his seat belt. “Seat belt,” he prompted, ignoring me.
Pulling my belt on, I reached down and adjusted the seat and then reached for the ignition.
“Wait.” Jax put his hand on mine to stop me. He was so warm. “Do you have the clutch pressed in?”
I shook my head.
“Hold down the clutch with your left foot and the brake with your right,” he said. “When you’re ready, turn the ignition, but keep your feet in place.”
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