Page 38 of Overdrive (Speed Demons #1)

The VIP section wasn’t new to me. I’d been out clubbing with étienne dozens of times, and back then, I’d only gotten through the velvet ropes because of him. But now I had a legacy of my own, and I was loving the special treatment–the endless drinks, the attention, the power of my status.

The Miami skyline stretched wide and glittering beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, but I barely noticed. The mojito in my hand was cool and refreshing, but I barely tasted it beyond a slight mintiness.

Because my thoughts weren’t here.

They were on Callum.

I hadn’t expected him to reply to my Snapchat—at least not so quickly, not so desperately. He’d demanded to know where I was. I ignored him, let him suffer for a little while.

The problem was that now, I couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched.

Laughter erupted at the booth behind me.

Probably Morel’s crew celebrating another P2 finish.

Fuck him and his entire existence. He’d nearly run me off track today, blocked me in qualifying yesterday, and had been running his mouth all weekend.

I didn’t care that he was a two-time world champion.

If he tried it again, I’d put him in the goddamn wall.

I exhaled sharply, shaking the thought away. Kimi sat beside me, recounting a story to a group of engineers standing by our booth, his hands animated as he mimicked the sheer horror of his rookie season.

“I kid you not,” he said, raising his drink dramatically, “I thought the team was pranking me when they told me the engine mapping switch was reversed. Spent the first half of the session wondering why the car felt like a bloody go-kart.”

Laughter rang out. It was a normal night to unwind, to celebrate, to forget.

Marco appeared out of nowhere, sliding into the booth with a confident ease that made it clear he was used to this setting. “Ah, the famous Kimi Bertolli embarrassing stories,” he quipped, setting his drink down. “I’ve heard this one a few times. Gets better every retelling.”

Kimi grinned, raising his glass in mock acknowledgment. “What can I say? I aim to entertain.”

As the conversation flowed, Marco kept turning his head toward the entrance. His casual demeanor shifted as the group around our table finally dispersed..

“Looks like trouble’s here,” Marco murmured, his tone teasing.

I frowned, leaning out from the booth and following his gaze to the staircase leading to the VIP section.

Callum was there, his tall frame cutting through the crowd with an effortless confidence that made the apex of my thighs ache.

He scanned the room, eyes locking onto Marco briefly before they found me.

My stomach bottomed the fuck out.

Marco chuckled, clearly enjoying himself. “If you ask me, he looks like a man on a mission.”

I made a noise that sounded a lot like a strangled yelp. “And what would you know about it?”

Marco raised his hands in mock defense. “Hey, I’m just here to observe. But if I were a betting man, I’d say he’s here for you.”

My face heated, and I took a sip of my drink to hide my reaction. “You’re sounding an awful lot like the fans these days, Marco.”

Callum was already on the move. There was no hesitation or pretense, just single-minded focus. On me. I slumped, sliding my back down the seat, hoping I could disappear. The conversation around me faded. My heartbeat was in my ears, my stomach flipping so violently I nearly lost my breath.

Oh, shit. He wasn’t stopping or even slowing down.

I knew I should look away. Act like I hadn’t noticed him coming straight for me, but I was frozen. I didn’t even register what was happening until he was there and his hand brushed my shoulder as he passed. Because he didn’t stop in front of me.

He slid into the booth right next to me, forcing me to either be pressed into his side or move over. I shifted to make room for him, skin slick with sweat from my sudden nerves.

Fuck. I was now effectively trapped in this booth. He so casually caged me in here. The scent of leather, whiskey, and something so unmistakably him flooded my senses, drowning me before I could even blink.

“You looked like you were having fun,” Callum murmured—so low it sent a violent shiver through me.

My fingers were still wrapped around my glass, pressing into the condensation. I felt desperate to keep them from trembling. “I was.”

He hummed like he didn’t believe me. Marco shot me a knowing look across the table. Kimi, the traitor, covered his laugh with a cough.

I resisted the urge to glare at them. This wasn’t funny.

“Something wrong, Fraser?” I asked, arching a brow.

His lips twitched. “Not at all.” Then his hand slid onto my bare thigh under the table. The touch was so light—a whisper of heat grazing against my skin, but it might as well have been a fucking brand. Goosebumps erupted down my legs, and I knew he could feel the immediate reaction.

I snapped my thighs shut, then mentally cursed myself. Oh, he for sure knew it now.

His thumb dragged over my skin, slow and deliberate, his touch featherlight but devastating. I nearly choked on my mojito, my body temperature rising to uncomfortable levels, my pussy pulsing like she’d never had sex in her life. If only he’d move up a little… more…

“You looked good in that video. ”

My throat closed. His expression was so fucking unreadable that I just wanted to throttle him with my bare hands.

“Was that only for me, Dubois?” His hand inched higher, and I sucked in a breath.

“If you think this is going to get me to melt into your lap like a pit chaser, you’ve got another thing coming.”

“You’ve already melted once, love. I just want to see how far you’ll drip.” He leaned closer, free hand raising to tuck my hair behind my ear. Somehow, I suppressed the shiver it caused. “Or have you forgotten how wet you were for me in Suzuka?”

Not just in Suzuka.

My entire body ignited, but this was what I got for playing with fire. I’d lost this round. I was so turned on, and if I didn’t put space between us right the fuck now, I would probably climb into his lap and ride him here and now without a care in the world.

Dripping? That was definitely on the table at the moment.

I was regretting not getting myself off earlier. I’d fucked up big time thinking he wasn’t going to come find me. Maybe I should stop drinking. It was making my inhibitions disappear faster than my self-control.

“Excuse me,” I said abruptly, setting my drink down. “I need to—” Callum’s grip tightened. Just slightly. A reminder. Or maybe a warning. He made no effort to move.

“ Callum ,” I hissed, and maybe my use of his first name made him fixate his gaze on me again.

“You want out? You can climb over me. I’m not moving.”

I gaped at him, blinking furiously. Marco and Kimi were giggling like schoolgirls, and I shot them the middle finger.

“You’re fucking mad,” I snapped. “Let me out.”

The blue in his eyes was positively molten . They dipped to my lips, then back up to my eyes, challenging me. Testing me to see if I’d do it.

But I could never back down from a challenge. And he fucking knew it. That was why he threw it out there. Because either way, he’d win. I’d either climb over him, and he’d enjoy that so fucking much, or I’d sit here and his hand would stay on me.

Well. I was completely screwed .

You know what? Fuck it.

I cut a glance at Marco and Kimi. “Don’t look if you don’t want to be flashed.

” They both turned red in the face, glancing at Callum, but I intentionally didn’t look at him.

I wouldn’t give him that much power, thinking I cared that I was going to flash our friends because my dress was so short.

It just took everything in me to not look.

I twisted in the booth, rising up on my knees, then swung one leg over him so I was straddling him, hands clamping down on the wood of the booth behind his head. His hands locked around my waist the second I climbed over, squeezing possessively.

I was supposed to pass. Not pause. But the second my thighs bracketed his, I felt him. Hard. Pressed right where I wanted him most, only thin fabric and a bad decision separating us. I froze when a rush of moisture flooded between my thighs.

And his gaze? Fuck . He looked like he wanted to fuck me right there.

His Adam’s apple bobbed, and yeah, he was as gone as I was.

But still fuck him, and fuck me, too. I wanted to stay right here, but we were in public, and he wasn’t getting his way that easily.

I leaned down, pressing my lips to his ear, ready to say something when his hands squeezed my waist, holding me still. The words died on my tongue when he turned his face so our lips were almost touching.

“Say the word, and I’ll make you come in my lap with every pair of eyes in this club watching,” he murmured, voice shredded and deadly.

I rolled my hips once, unable to ignore my body’s needs any longer, and whimpered from the friction.

He hissed, the muscle in his jaw ticking, and I loved that I wasn’t the only feral one between us.

Callum’s large, impossibly veiny hands slid down my hips and over the tops of my thighs, thumbs extending to brushing my inner thighs. Oh no.

He growled in approval, shifting forward. I could feel his breath against my collarbone, and my nipples hardened to the point of pain. “See? Melting.”

This was way too erotic for a public space. And just when I was about to cave and tell him to take me somewhere private, the raucous laughter of Morel’s group behind us broke through the haze that had settled between us.

“I hope you think about me tonight when you’re in bed. I know you’re not thinking of anyone else these days, or you wouldn’t be here acting like you’re going to burn the whole place down,” I said.

I climbed off him, rising on unsteady feet and ignoring Marco and Kimi, who were snickering and elbowing each other like the complete idiots they were. Callum’s eyes were hooded as he looked at me through his lashes.