Page 43 of Overdrive (Speed Demons #1)

I snagged a drink from a passing server and threw it back, the tequila burning all the way down and warming my skin in its wake.

The music pulsed through me, and for the first time all night, I felt weightless.

The crowd moved as one, the beat dictating every sway and grind, and I let myself be pulled along.

A second drink found its way into my hand—vodka this time, tangy with cranberry—and I sipped it more slowly. I let the alcohol settle in, humming through me like static. For the first time in weeks, something other than the pressure of work or my rampant sex drive sparked in me.

At some point, Kimi appeared beside me, grinning like the devil himself. “Dubois, you’re glowing,” he shouted over the bass.

“Maybe I’m just finally having fun,” I shot back, spinning away from him as the music shifted to something slower, darker, sexier.

As if drinking my weight to drown my emotions was fun. Maybe the person the public was seeing now, the confident, unbothered female driver who was dancing with her teammate, appeared fun. But in reality, an hour ago I was begging to be fucked in a hallway by someone who was notoriously untouchable.

I just wanted to be one of those girls for one night. Let the sex run its course and get it out of our systems so we could go back to normal. If there even was a normal to return to, because this attraction had been boiling from the moment we met.

Kimi caught my hand, spinning me back with a laugh. “Come on, don’t leave me hanging!”

We fell into an easy rhythm, his touch floated near my waist, light and respectful, but enough to anchor me in the moment. He’d been by my side for so long, and having him as my teammate now could not have been a better fit.

He spun me again, my laughter bubbling up as we moved together. The crowd around us roared their approval, and I couldn’t stop the giddiness in me.

I didn’t have to look to know Callum was watching. My skin prickled, the searing heat of his attention more intoxicating than the alcohol coursing through my veins. I turned my head slightly, catching a glimpse of him at the edge of the dance floor.

I knew the look he was giving me. It was the same one on his face right before he slammed my hands to the wall and tugged my panties to the side. My thighs pressed together at the memory, my pulse tripping over itself as I remembered the feel of his stubble on my skin.

Kimi leaned in, his lips brushing my ear. “Look who’s here.”

I didn’t respond, my focus entirely on Callum, weaving through the crowd with an ease that was both infuriating and magnetic.

My breath caught in my throat as he reached us, his hand brushing against Kimi’s shoulder in a silent dismissal.

His presence swallowed the space beside me and my body reacted viscerally.

“Go on, then. You’ve got unfinished business,” Kimi said into my ear, then backed away with a playful salute. “You’re on your own, Dubois.”

I hesitated, glancing between Kimi and Callum. The drinks I’d had made my decision for me. I didn’t want to think anymore; I just wanted to feel.

There was no time before Callum stepped toward me. The crowd around us blurred as he reached for me, hands settling lightly on my hips, mine naturally holding onto his shoulders.

“You looked like you were having fun,” he murmured—a callback to earlier in the night.

“I was,” I replied, my voice steady despite the way my pulse raced. “What are you doing? There are so many people around.”

“Making sure you don’t forget who your real rival is,” he said, his lips quirking into that infuriating smirk. For once, I’d like to see him actually smile.

Before I could respond, he pulled me closer—no, not just closer.

He turned me, my back to his chest. It felt so natural the way our bodies fit together, how our hips moved in time to the music.

He wasn’t making a scene. He was making a memory.

One only I would remember in detail for the rest of my life.

The moan that left my lips was instant, because fuck , it was too much and not enough all at once.

His hands gripped my waist, fingers flexing over my hips, holding me so tight I could feel the pulse in his fingertips.

The feel of his body consumed me, all muscle and restraint, his breath hot against the shell of my ear.

Holy fucking hell.

My knees almost buckled. His thigh nudged between mine, forcing me to shift and grind down without thinking. My entire body betrayed me as desire raced through me, filthy and unrelenting, my clit pulsing and my panties soaking more.

I thought I had the upper hand but my body had already made the decision for me—and it was all his.

“You know,” I said, my head tilting slightly, inviting him closer. “People might think you’re enjoying this.”

His lips brushed against my ear, not quite a kiss, not quite innocent. “Let them think what they want.” His voice was pure gravel, his hands tightening on my hips, keeping me exactly where he wanted me. “I’m tired of pretending I don’t want you.”

That was it. That line? I wanted to scream it to the world and tell them to put that in a fucking fanfiction.

Not just swoon-worthy lines that were soft and poetic, because at his core, Callum was real and raw and so fucking hot.

Deep down, he wasn't gentle; he was feral and unholy and I wanted to drown in him.

My skin burned where his fingers gripped me, guiding me to the slow, thrumming rhythm of the music. Every shift of his body against mine was deliberate. I was losing my mind, spinning off into this chasm that was him .

I knew I was being irrational earlier about the pit chaser, but it was the first time since my ex that I’d felt a moment of insecurity to that caliber.

The first time I felt jealous because I wanted to be claimed.

And now? He was doing it, maybe not in words or in actions that anyone else would notice.

It was in the way his hands tightened just a little more. The way his lips hovered at my jaw, so fucking close. How his entire body locked up when I arched just slightly against him, testing him, teasing him, pushing him.

His hand slid up my side, brushing my lower back, and I couldn’t stop the gasp that escaped my lips. His head dipped, stubble scraping my neck. I whimpered, the world around me narrowing.

“Aurélie,” he murmured against my skin, his tongue dragging slow and hot over the pulse point, like he wanted to mark me from the inside out.

His mouth was right where it had been when he whispered filth into my ear before I begged him to fuck me.

I could still feel the echo of his voice from that hallway, the way he said my name like a sin.

My hands flew to his forearms, steadying myself because fuck, fuck, fuck, I was going to lose my goddamn mind if he kept doing that. The music slowed, deep bass vibrating through us, but I barely heard it. It was just us now, lost in this, the push and pull, the inevitable collision.

I didn’t know if it was the alcohol, the music, or the sheer proximity of him that made me do it, but I tilted my head just enough. A silent invitation. A please . Callum didn’t hesitate. His lips ghosted over mine—barely there, cruel and perfect. Not a kiss or a warning.

A fucking promise that we'd already crossed the point of no return.

I’d already let him ruin me, whether he knew it or not.