Page 9 of Kiss & Collide (Racing Hearts #2)

V iolet watched from the entryway to her apartment building as Chase nimbly parallel parked his vintage Austin-Healey across the street. It was a beater, with faded paint and rust spots, but undeniably a great car underneath all that. Like Chase himself, she supposed.

He obviously knew how to handle a car, but it was hot just the same. And so was he, as he unfolded his long, fit body from inside the small car.

Sleeping with him would only complicate things if it mattered. This was simple and straightforward. They both knew what they wanted, and more importantly, what they didn’t want. The last thing Chase Navarro would ever ask her for was a commitment.

Chase joined her on the sidewalk, looking up at the two-story building behind her. “This your place?”

“Upstairs.”

She let them in and led the way up the narrow staircase to her flat.

“Just you in here?”

“Solicitors’ offices below. Just me up here.”

“I suppose I should have asked this sooner but … you live alone?”

She smiled at him over her shoulder. “Is that your way of asking if some burly boyfriend is going to come storming in to pummel you?”

“I can hold my own, but I’d rather not. Besides”—he shrugged—“I only have a few rules and that’s one of them.”

Funny, that was one of her only rules, too. No poaching other people’s partners, not even if it was just for sex. “No,” she finally said. “No boyfriend. Absolutely not.”

As she paused on the landing to retrieve her keys, Chase stepped up behind her, settling his hands on her hips. He dipped his head and nipped at the side of her neck. Her body flushed warm with anticipation. Yep, this was definitely going to be fun.

“Why not?” he asked, pressing the length of his body against her back. She could feel the hard bulge of his cock against her ass.

She turned slightly, peering up at him. “Chase,” she said.

“Mhmm?” His eyes dropped from her eyes to her mouth, drinking her in. It sent a thrill through her.

“We’re not sharing.” She fumbled with the keys and unlocked the door.

“Works for me.” He walked her across the threshold as his hands slid around and up under her jacket, cupping her breasts through that hot as fuck bustier.

“This thing has been driving me crazy all day.” He kicked the door closed behind him.

She pressed her ass against his hips. “Good.” She wriggled out of her jacket and he helped peel it down her arms, tossing it off to the side.

“Bedroom?” he muttered against her ear as one of his hands slid down over her stomach and began working at the button of her trousers. “Or should I just bend you over that nice sofa and fuck you there?”

“Sofa is closer.”

“Close is good.”

She stepped out of her heels as they staggered toward it. He slid her trousers over her hips and she shimmied them down to her ankles before stepping out of those, too.

“You’re killing me,” he groaned, pressing himself again against her now-bare ass.

She liked that he told her how much he wanted her.

It felt delicious. They reached the couch, a long blood-red leather thing that had just been delivered, the first proper piece of furniture she’d ever bought.

This seemed an auspicious way to christen it.

Her hands slammed down on the back of it, fingers digging into the supple leather.

Behind her, Chase briskly unbuttoned the fly of his jeans.

His wallet hit the couch in front of her and she heard the condom package rip open. She looked back over her shoulder just in time to watch him roll it on, because what a sight that was. His dick was very, very pretty.

“Ready?” He laid a hand between her shoulder blades, urging her forward. Two fingers reached between her thighs, sweeping her thong to one side. She moaned. Those same two fingers slid up inside her. “That’s a yes,” he ground out when he discovered how wet she was.

His fingers disappeared and then he filled her, suddenly, with one powerful thrust.

“Fuck,” she murmured, gripping the back of the couch.

He groaned, a guttural, ragged sound that made her stomach twist with desire. His fingers curled into her hips. “You feel so good.”

He pulled out and thrust in again, and this time they both groaned. His pace was brisk, which was good, because this wasn’t going to take her long at all. As his hips snapped against her ass, she could already feel the tightening in her lower belly, and her thighs were starting to shake.

“Please tell me you’re close,” he said.

“Almost.”

He slid a hand around in front of her and between her thighs, parting her. “This good?” His fingers found her clit and she moaned again.

It was all over after that. She came hard, gripping the couch to balance herself as her legs went boneless. He thrust twice more, his left hand digging into her hip hard enough to leave marks, before he let out another groan from deep in his chest. He slumped over her back as she panted.

Gradually his grip on her eased. “Bathroom?” he muttered.

She lifted a limp hand and pointed to the left. “Through that door.”

He slipped out of her and disappeared to clean himself up.

When her trembling legs could support her again, she stretched luxuriously, reveling in the aftermath of a really good orgasm, and walked back through the flat, retrieving her clothes and shoes from the floor.

That was an excellent way to relieve stress.

Maybe they could make it a semi-regular thing.

She ducked into her bedroom to dump her rumpled clothes on the bed. As she came back to the living room, sliding into her black silk robe, she found Chase across the room, examining her record collection.

“What are you doing?” Her voice sounded a little too hostile and accusatory.

He was just looking. Still, having someone in her space poking through her stuff always made her twitchy.

It’s why she liked to go to the guy’s place.

Except that Chase was some eternal university student who didn’t really have a place.

Typical Chase, he seemed unfazed. He glanced back over his shoulder and smiled. “I was right to be intimidated by you.”

She scowled. “Intimidated?”

BEHIND HIM, VIOLET drifted closer as Chase flipped through a bunch of records.

There was a whole bookshelf of vintage vinyl, rows and rows of it, mostly of bands he’d never heard of.

There was all of Bowie’s discography, which was familiar enough, but there was a lot more.

The Misfits, Suicide, the Cramps, Urban Blight, the Slits, the New York Dolls …

album after album. To the left, on another bookshelf, she had a pretty impressive stereo setup, with a turntable and massive speakers.

Up until now, if he’d been pressed to guess what Violet did in her free time, he’d have said “planning the invasion of a small island nation.” Instead, she collected records—vintage vinyl, and judging from the stereo, she listened to all of it.

“You’re intimidating because you’re cool,” he explained, sliding one record halfway out. “I’ve never even heard of the Stooges.”

“Oh.” Her scowl melted away. “They’re a proto-punk band from America.

Their first self-titled album came out in sixty-nine.

” She tapped the corner of an album. “But I prefer their third, Raw Power , from seventy-three. Iggy Pop was at his peak on this one.” She ran her finger down the spine.

“Williamson on guitar took them to a new level.”

“Oh my god, forget it. You’re not cool. You’re a nerd .” That was probably the most he’d ever heard her say about anything other than racing, and it was absolutely the most enthusiastic he’d ever heard her sound.

She scowled again. “I am not. I’m just a collector.”

“Come on, Violet, this is extremely nerdy. I bet you’ve got them all cataloged in a spreadsheet. You do, don’t you?”

She hiked one perfectly arched black eyebrow at him. “Do I look like a spreadsheet kind of person?” She paused for a beat, then shrugged in discomfort. “It’s handwritten.”

He chuckled, running a finger down the row of records, each one in a protective clear plastic sleeve. “Where did you find all these?”

“Some online. All my traveling helps. I find amazing stuff in Japan. Vinyl’s huge there.”

“Why vinyl?” Violet definitely struck him as an early adopter of technology. Her phone was never far from her hand. This whole collection was instantly available online. Why the vinyl and the record player?

“I like hearing it the way it was originally intended to be listened to. Nothing beats Venus in Furs by the Velvet Underground on vinyl. Digital just isn’t the same. And …” She went quiet.

“What?”

She shook her head. “Never mind.”

He nudged her elbow with his. “Say it.”

“Well …” She pulled that Stooges album out enough to look at the cover.

Some shirtless guy in goth makeup gripping a microphone.

“This groundbreaking punk album barely sold. You could go see these guys play live whenever you wanted, at Max’s Kansas City or Whisky a Go Go, or a million other shitty clubs.

They were making magic and nobody even knew it at the time.

The vinyl …” She sighed before sliding the record back into place.

“It’s the closest you can get to being there for the magic. ”

It was cute, actually—that she was so passionate about something so niche. “You must really love music, huh?”

She didn’t answer right away, and when he glanced over at her, her eyes had gone a little flat and distracted. “Yeah,” she finally said. “I do.”

“Which one’s your favorite?”

She let out a soft scoff. “That’s an impossible question.”

“Go on,” he said, nudging her elbow. She’d changed into a silky black robe that made her pale skin look like velvet in contrast. He could imagine running his palm across the slick fabric and feeling the warmth of her body underneath it, but they’d just had sex, and she hadn’t kicked him out yet, so he didn’t press his luck. “Just pick one and put it on.”

She cast him a suspicious glare. “Why? We’re not hanging out.”

He rolled his eyes. “Just pretend I’m not here. Put on what you want to listen to right now.”

“Why do you care?”

“I’m curious. Humor me.” Her apartment had turned out to be nearly as spare as her office, confirming that he’d been right on that point.

Just that long red sofa he’d bent her over, and a coffee table.

But there was this , these two shelves filled with her passion project.

Now that he’d gotten a peek at off-hours Violet, he wanted to see more.

What did she do when she wasn’t barking orders at people?

She sighed and ran a red-tipped finger down the shelf, considering. Finally she slid one out.

“This isn’t my favorite, because there’s no such thing,” she said, carefully sliding the album out of the paper sleeve. With her fingers bracing the edges, she flipped it over in a practiced—and very sexy—move, before settling it on the turntable. “But the Runaways are always a good choice.”

She gently settled the needle on the record right between two tracks, and he swore he saw her shoulders relax infinitesimally the instant the hiss started pouring through the speakers.

Drums, wailing electric guitars, pulsing bass, and loud female voices shouting, “Take it or leave it!”

He smiled and nodded. “Now this is you .”

“You don’t know me.”

“Sure I do. And this song is you, Violet.”

Her eyes met his for a split second, then she inhaled deeply and spun away. “Okay, this has been fun, but—”

He laughed despite himself. “Yeah, yeah, I’m going.”

GOOD , VIOLET THOUGHT. He’d already lingered here much longer than necessary, pawing through her record collection and asking uncomfortable questions. She didn’t look at him as she walked back across the apartment to the front door.

“Guess there’s no point asking if you want to go get a drink or something,” he said, running a hand through his hair. He seemed … nervous, which was odd for Chase.

“Lucky for you, I’m not a wine-and-dine kind of girl. And you’ve got a long drive back to East Luddleton.”

He paused for a moment as he tucked his wallet into his back pocket. “You know, there’s something I keep forgetting to do.”

She opened the front door for him. “What’s that, Chase?”

He headed toward the door, but stopped abruptly when he got to her.

Then his arm snaked out and grabbed her around the waist, as his other hand gripped the back of her neck and his mouth came down hard on hers.

She was so caught off guard that for a moment, she just stood there, shock flooding through her.

Then his mouth moved over hers and her blood started pumping again.

It was a hard, hungry kiss, and he was good at it, just like he was at everything else.

Her lips parted for him and before she was consciously aware of deciding to do it, she was kissing him back.

Her hands found their way to his biceps and her fingers curled in.

The Runaways were pulsing through the air, the vibrations of the music making her whole body tingle.

His tongue swept in and brushed hers and she had to bite back a moan.

She felt that brush of his tongue all the way down between her legs.

He was so close . She could feel the prickle of his stubble and the heat of his breath against her cheek.

Funny, for all the sex they’d had, for all the ways he’d plundered her body so far—and there were a lot—this felt like the most intimate thing they’d done.

She wrenched her mouth away from his and took a step back. He let her go easily. That wicked smile that was becoming so familiar to her flashed bright white in the fading light of the day, and he reached up, touching his fingertip to the middle of her bottom lip. “Goodnight, Violet.”

And then he was gone.