Page 50 of Blood & Throttle

Because for the first time since I was thrown into this death trap, I don’t feel like I’m on my own.

Riot pulls off his helmet, shaking his head like he’s clearing it, then glances back at me. His dark eyes flick over my face, searching. “You good?”

The words are rough, casual but there’s something underneath. Something unreadable.

I scoff, running a hand through my hair. “You asking because you care, or because you don’t want your passenger keeling over before the next race?”

His lips twitch, but it’s not really a smirk. “Little of both.” He pauses, studying me, then exhales, rolling his shoulders. “You handled yourself out there.”

I tilt my head, arching a brow. “Was that a compliment?”

His grin is slow, sharp, and all fucking smug. “Don’t get used to it.” He swings off the bike, rolling his shoulders again, andstretching his arms over his head like we didn’t just outrun death. His shirt pulls tight across his chest, the muscles underneath flexing as he exhales. “But yeah. You and me? We work.”

I stay seated, hands still gripping the seat, pulse still hammering in my throat.

He tilts his head, dark eyes flicking over me. “Didn’t think I’d say it, did you?”

I huff, shaking my head, trying to ignore the way his voice slinks down my spine. “Didn’t think you knew how to say something nice.”

His smirk widens, but his gaze drops to my hands, still tense against the seat, then back up to my face.

“We’re still breathing,” he says, quieter, rougher. “That’s all that fucking matters.”

I should argue. Should throw some smart-ass remark back at him.

But the truth is? He’s right.

Against all odds, we made it.

And as much as I hate to admit it…

Riding with Riot Carter might be the only reason I’m still alive.

Like he doesn’t have a single goddamn care in the world. Like we didn’t just survive a fucking bloodbath.

I scoff, finally peeling my fingers off the seat. “That was subtle.”

He arches a brow, rubbing the back of his neck. “What was?”

“The flexing.” I nod at him, lips curving. “Real smooth, Carter. I almost forgot we were being shot at ten minutes ago.”

His smirk deepens, predatory. “You watching me that closely, Sin?”

I roll my eyes. “Please. You’re about as subtle as a car crash.”

He steps in closer, one hand bracing on the handlebars beside me, forcing me to look up. “Yeah? What’s it like, then?”

I tilt my head. “What’s what like?”

“Crashing.” His voice drops lower, rich and rough, and something in my stomach tightens.

I refuse to let him see it.

I shrug, letting my smirk widen. “Guess we’ll find out when you finally hit the pavement.”

Riot chuckles, dragging his teeth over his bottom lip like he’s actually enjoying this. The space between us is damn near suffocating. The scent of sweat, gasoline, and smoke curling around me, his body heat sinking into mine, the adrenaline still thrumming beneath my skin.

And I hate that I like it.