Page 40 of Overdrive (Speed Demons #1)

The moment I walked back into the VIP booth, I threw myself down on the leather seat as if it might keep me from combusting.

Not combust in the fun way, in the I won way, but the I just got cockblocked against a wall while seconds away from fucking her publicly kind of way.

My fingers were still sticky. I could taste her on my tongue, all sweet and addictive and ruinous.

My jaw ached from how tight I'd been clenching it.

My cock throbbed in time with my heartbeat—loud, constant, unrelenting—but the worst part?

She fucking knew. She knew exactly what she was doing when she begged and whimpered and pressed back into me, as desperate as I was.

When she reached between us and palmed me through my pants, tugging at my zipper like she was seconds from taking me inside her right there.

And I would’ve let her. Christ, I would’ve helped her. Because the reality was, we were seconds from doing exactly that.

My hands had been buried under that little dress, fingers had been inside her, and if those drunk fuckers hadn’t come around the corner, I would have my cock buried inside her right now—deep, raw, reckless.

Fast and filthy, no protection. No hesitation.

Just heat and desperation and the kind of madness that strips away everything you thought you knew about control.

She’d lost it. I’d lost it. And now I was sitting in a club with her scent still on my skin, and my entire body screamed to go back down that hallway and finish what we started.

It was all a goddamn game to the both of us, but it didn't stop me from craving her so intensely that I had to physically refrain myself from getting up.

"Welcome back, mate," Marco greeted. "Trouble in paradise?"

I tried to sit there as if nothing had happened.

As if my cock wasn’t still throbbing and straining against my zipper.

As if I didn’t just have Aurélie fucking Dubois in my lap, grinding her soaking cunt against me like she had every intention of setting me on fire.

As if I didn’t just almost fuck her against a wall with a hand over her mouth to keep her quiet.

She owned me, and she was very much aware of that fact.

Across from me, Marco and Kimi were losing their goddamn minds.

Marco wheezed through his laughter, whiskey swirling dangerously in his glass. “I swear, I didn’t look. I didn’t want to die, but holy fuck.”

Kimi grinned, barely suppressing a snort. “She played you like a fucking violin, Fraser.”

I dragged a hand down my face, trying to rub the chaos out of my system. “Shut the fuck up.”

They didn’t.

Marco leaned in, all smug and infuriating. “Something happened between you two when you followed her. And not just teasing—no. You’re spiraling. ”

“I’m not?—”

“Mate, look at yourself,” Kimi cut in, deadpan. “If she wasn’t under your skin, you’d be halfway to the back room with any of these pit chasers by now.”

They weren’t wrong. I knew what I looked like: a man unraveling. A man off-line, on the verge of detonation.

And yeah, I needed a fucking distraction.

When Marco dragged me up to go socialize, I didn’t resist. I threw back the rest of my drink and followed, trying to blur everything out—my thoughts, my want, her .

And then it happened.

I felt her from across the room. I looked up and there she was. The air snapped taut as I sucked in a breath, bracing for impact as her eyes locked on mine—and then she saw Katarina.

Katarina was the typical pit chaser, always dolled up and looking for a photo op before being an easy lay. Unfortunately for me, I’d slept with her before, had let her drape herself over me in public many times, so this wasn’t exactly out of character behavior from her.

Katarina was glued to my side, her nails digging into my leather jacket, her lipstick already leaving a mark on my collar I hadn’t noticed. Her voice was white noise, because the only thing I registered was the expression on Aurélie’s face–stone, flat, cold.

I had the inexplicable feeling that I’d just fucked up.

I jerked away from Katarina like she burned me, but it was already too fucking late.

Aurélie turned her back to me, no glance over her shoulder as she slipped out onto the terrace.

Just… done. Something inside me fractured.

I shoved my way through the crowd before I could even process it.

“Here we fucking go,” Marco muttered behind me.

The terrace was quieter than the club below, but the energy still pulsed around us.

Miami’s humidity clung to my skin, thick and suffocating, mixing with the lingering scent of liquor and cigarette smoke from nearby.

The bass from the music inside still thrummed beneath my feet, vibrating up my legs, but the moment I stepped onto the rooftop, the rest of the world fell away.

She was near the railing, her hands braced against the metal, her back to me. The skyline lit her hair like a halo. Her posture screamed restraint, shoulders tight, spine rigid. She was barely keeping it together.

And I knew exactly what that felt like.

I stepped forward, slowly and deliberately, but she reacted before I could speak. Her fingers curled tighter over the railing as she inhaled sharply. She knew I was there and she was waiting.

“Leave me alone, Fraser.” None of the earlier fire was in her voice, and fuck, I wanted it back. She was acting standoffish.

I almost laughed. “Not happening. ”

She turned then, her eyes dark and storming. “You’ve got a lot of nerve,” she spat. “Showing up here like you have any right to be pissed.”

I arched a brow, shoving my hands in my pockets. “And what exactly did I do that warrants this tantrum?”

“You got what you came for.” Her arms crossed over her chest. “Someone to warm your bed tonight.”

I stepped closer, heat rising in my face. “I didn’t even touch her.”

“You didn’t have to,” she bit out. “She was all over you. Everyone saw it. I saw it. The damage is already done.”

My jaw ticked. "Don't do that."

"Do what? Call it like it is?" she snapped, her accent thicker than usual. "You let her touch you like you didn't just have your fingers inside me fifteen fucking minutes ago."

Fuck . That felt like a slap to the face.

I stepped closer, heat surging under my skin.

"You think I wanted her?" I growled. "You think I could even look at another woman after the way you begged me?

After the way you grabbed my cock like you couldn't wait another goddamn second to feel me inside you? "

She turned on her heel, ready to bolt, but I was faster, catching her wrist, gently but firmly. She stilled, like she didn’t expect me to stop her. Her pulse raced under my thumb.

“Get out of my way.”

Tension crackled like a live wire between us, sparking, dangerous.

“You’re pissed,” I said calmly.

“No shit.”

“Tell me why.”

“Oh, fuck off.” She yanked her hand, but I didn’t let go. Held on just enough to keep her here with me. “Callum?—”

I stepped into her space, my breath ghosting over her lips.

Her soft floral scent made me feel intoxicated.

Made me want to get lost in her and see how deep she could take me.

“You’re not mad about her,” I murmured. “You’re mad because I didn’t do to her what I want to do to you.

I only came here for you, and that scares you, doesn’t it?

It scares you that you were going to let me fuck you in public. ”

The sharp inhale she took shot through me like lightning. I watched the flicker of war in her eyes, the way her fists clenched, how her body betrayed her.

“You’re mad because you thought you were in control tonight,” I murmured, my fingers dragging along the inside of her wrist. “Because you thought you could play your little games and walk away untouched.”

Her lashes fluttered for half a second. A blink, a brief moment of hesitation. My other hand lifted, barely grazing her hip, up her waist, but I wanted more—so much more.

She let me until she realized she was leaning in, and she jerked back like I’d burned her.

Her breathing was shallow, her chest rising and falling, and for the first time tonight, I saw it.

Her eyes shimmered. For a fraction of a second, she looked wounded .

Not angry. Not arrogant. Hurt. I’d done that.

And fuck me, I hated that I had. I didn’t know what happened.

I didn’t fucking know. But I wanted to know. It mattered. She mattered.

That scared the shit out of me.

Her armor snapped back into place like a visor. Her chin lifted. Her mouth tightened into a cruel, practiced smirk.

“Go fuck yourself tonight then, Fraser.”

She shoved at my chest and walked away.

I didn’t follow or stop her. I didn’t even fucking move, because my hands were still tingling from touching her. Her voice still echoed in my ears and I still tasted her fucking name and her pussy on my tongue and my dick was so hard I couldn't think straight anymore .

And then she walked straight to Kimi .

The air in my lungs evaporated.

I saw her touch him, saw his hand drop onto her back like it belonged there. I watched her curl against him like she was trying to make a point.

And something inside me snapped.

I needed to get the fuck out of here before I dragged her away from him, put my hands on someone I shouldn’t, let this become something I couldn’t control.

Nope. Too late.

I picked up a glass off the ledge. Threw it at the exterior wall of the club without thinking. It shattered—loud and violent—just like my restraint. Someone nearby gasped. I didn’t care.

I turned sharply, storming toward the bar inside. I walked straight down to the bar, and grabbed the nearest full glass before throwing it back. It burned, but not enough. Nothing would be enough. She was still here–with him .

My knuckles whitened from my tight grip on the bar, trying to keep them from trembling, forcing a slow breath through my nose.

Walk away.

Let it go.

Be a bigger man.

I should find someone else. Someone to kiss or fuck, anyone to get her out of my head. But that was the goddamn problem, wasn’t it? It wouldn’t work no matter how many glasses I threw, or drinks I downed, or times I got myself off— I only wanted her.

This wasn’t just some stupid rivalry anymore.

I turned away, inhaling a measured breath, trying to cool the fire in my veins before I burned this whole place down.

I wasn’t stupid. It wasn’t going away until I had her. And honestly? Probably not even then, either. She was under my skin, in my mouth, around my fucking fingers. And she was pretending like none of it mattered… but next time, she wouldn’t get the chance to pretend.