Page 24 of Overdrive (Speed Demons #1)

The morning air was sharp, filled with pine and damp earth as I ran the secluded path outside theSuzukaCircuit. Just after sunrise. I'd hoped the run would clear my head, burn off whatever the hell had been eating at me since Shanghai.

Did it help? Not fucking really. Because then I saw her. And I nearly fucking tripped.

Aurélie. Black sports bra, black leggings, slick with sweat and gleaming like cherries dipped in champagne—bubbly, dangerous, and sweet enough to ruin me.

The temptation to sin with her was stronger than anything I’d ever felt before, a forbidden taste I wasn’t supposed to want, but couldn’t stop chasing.

Flushed skin. Heaving chest. Stomach tight. Hair tied back, jaw set. She looked like war. Like sex. Like everything I'd ever wanted to get on my knees for.

My dick twitched instantly. Fuck.Me.

I tried to look away. I really tried.

But then she tilted her head back to catch her breath, and my feet stuttered, and I was staring like a complete amateur. Eyes locked to her body. The flex of her abs, the bounce of her tits with every step, all that exposed flesh.

Jesus. She shouldn’t look that good while training—dripping in sweat, flushed and fierce, like sin in motion.

I was supposed to be functioning like a normal person, not picturing her on all fours in my bed while the rest of the world disappeared.

I wanted to ravage her, sink my teeth into her, taste her, mark her.

Drag her into the trees, press her against something solid, and devour her whole.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

She slowed to a stop right in front of me, that smirk playing at her lips. The kind of look that belonged in dark corners and backseats.

“Struggling, Fraser?” she teased—voice breathy but laced with challenge.

I recovered fast, shaking my sinful thoughts off and matching her stride. “Didn't expect to find you here. Thought you weren't a morning person.”

She lifted a brow. “Didn't take you for one either.”

“I don't sleep much.”

“Shame. You'd sleep like a baby if you weren't so wound up all the time.”

Oh, she fucking knew. Knew exactly what she was doing, exactly what she was implying.

I bit down a growl and forced a laugh instead. “And you? Sleeping like a dream?”

“Like a dream,” she murmured, voice syrup-slow and wicked.

The path curved into the shade, trees closing in around us. She was graceful, steady—even sweat-slicked and panting, the way she should be beneath me.

Oh my God. Stop.

My eyes dropped. Her leggings clung to every inch of her ass. Her waist dipped right where I wanted to put my hands. My cock strained against the waistband of my compression shorts, and thank fuck I wore another layer on top of those, or this would be real embarrassing.

She ran like she was built for it. Just like she was built for the car. Built to toe the line of danger, built to push limits.

Maybe my fucking limits if I couldn't knock it off.

This was fucking torture.

“Care for a little wager?” I asked, voice raspier than I intended.

She glanced over. “What kind of wager? ”

“Race me.”

She let out a soft laugh. “You want to race me?”

“I want to beat you.”

That lit a fire in her eyes.

She stepped slightly ahead, just enough to be cocky about it. “First to the bend up ahead?”

“You're on.”

And then she took off like a shot.

Fuck, she was fast. But I was faster.

At the last second, I surged forward, catching up and veering slightly to block her path. She stumbled—momentum slamming her into me—and before I could stop myself, I caught her by the waist, spinning her off the trail and into the trees.

We collided. Hard.

Her back hit a tree trunk. My hands were tight on her hips, and her fists clutched at my shirt as if she wanted to rip it off. Our chests heaved against each other, sweating, hot, breaths tangled.

My brain was screaming at me to back the fuck up. But my body didn't give a single shit.

Neither did she.

She dragged me closer like her hands didn’t know how to let go, her breath coming fast and shallow, her chest slammed into mine like she was already halfway undone. There was no hesitation, no question. She wanted this just as much as I did.

Her skin was slick under my hands, my hips locking her to the tree like I needed to stake a claim. And the second her eyes flicked to my mouth—wild, wanting, fucking daring me—I lost it.

We crashed together, and I devoured the desperate sounds she made. My tongue slid against hers, tasting the forbidden fruit that was her. So messy, so filthy, so consuming. She kissed me back as though she meant to ruin me. And fuck, maybe she already had.

There was nothing soft about it. Her hands slid into my hair, nails scraping against my scalp. My cock pressed against her pussy, hard and aching, and she moved—rolling her hips up, grinding against me.

I groaned, pressing her tighter against the tree.

Her thighs locked around my waist. I grabbed her ass, dragging her up, my fingers digging into the curve of her. She clung to me, her nails raking my back through my shirt.

Her breath hitched when I bit her lip.

My dick pulsed so hard it hurt.

I wanted more. I wanted everything . To push those leggings down and sink inside her, fuck her until she forgot her own name—until the only thing on her tongue was a sound that belonged to me.

Fuck, I'd never kissed like this. I'd never be the same after, either.

One hand skimmed under her sports bra, brushing the underside of her breast, ready to lift the fabric and mark the flesh with my teeth, tug on her nipples until she was whimpering and writhing in my hold.

And then there was rustle. A sharp snap of twigs. We broke apart and froze. A heartbeat of silence before a squirrel darted out of the underbrush.

We gasped. Then we burst out laughing. Wild, breathless, stunned laughter.

I pressed my forehead to hers, heart thundering. I should set her down. Walk away right the fuck now. But she was still wrapped around me, the soft floral scent of her skin making it impossible to think straight.

Instead, I whispered, “That was a bad idea.”

She hummed, fingers still tangled in my hair. “Maybe.”

But she wasn't letting go.

I could feel how turned on she was, her arousal soaking through the thin layers of our clothing, and oh my fucking God, I wasn't sure I could let go either.

That was the biggest fucking problem of all.