Crashed (Driven, #3)(71)

“My hands won’t stop shaking.” I don’t respond because I’m holding my breath as he picks up the pace and enters into turn one. “Becks is gonna be pissed because my head’s f*cked up.”

I glance over at Becks again and see the smile flash on his face, and I know he’s listening in, making sure his best friend is okay. “It’s okay … watching you out there? Mine is f*cked up too … but you’re ready, you can do this.”

“Aren’t we a f*cking pair?” He snorts into the radio and I can sense a little of his anxiety and fear dissipating with each passing second. I see the guys around me relax some as they notice the smile widen on Beckett’s face.

“We are indeed,” I laugh before releasing an exhale in relief. God, I love you, I want to say, but refrain. The rumble increases down the backstretch and I can’t fight the grin on my face at the sound of success. “Hey, Ace, can I bring the guys back on?”

“Yeah,” he says followed quickly by, “Ry … I …”

My heart swells at the emotion in his voice. I can hear the apology, feel the absolute sincerity behind it. “I know, Colton. Me too.”

I fight the tears of happiness that well up, and when I look up at Beckett he has a soft smile on his face. He shakes his head ever so subtly and mouths the word lifeline to me.





The car enters the pits and rolls to a stop. Beckett’s at its side in an instant while I fidget behind the wall, wanting to see Colton face to face to make sure he’s okay. He removes the steering wheel and hands it to Becks before unbuckling his helmet. Becks helps him unfasten it from the HANS device, and when he pulls it from his head, removing the balaclava with it, the crew erupts into a roar of cheers.


Chills dance at the celebratory sounds as Becks helps him out of the car. I step over the wall with the rest of the crew, unable to stay at a distance any longer because now Colton stands there hot, sweaty, and oh my God sexy. Pride tinged with desire spears through me at the sight of him.

Attending to the car is forgotten as his crew pats him on the shoulders and welcomes him back. Beckett just looks at him with a shit-eating grin on his handsome face. “I’m proud of you, dude, but f*ck, your lap times sucked.”

Colton laughs again, slinging an arm around his friend. “I can always count on you to knock me down a few pegs.” He goes to say something else and then stops when he sees me.

I have a déjà vu moment, Colton standing amidst the whirling chaos of his crew, eyes locked on mine, sexy-as-sin grin wide on his lips. Time stops again as the world falls away and we stare at each other.

I know there are so many things we need to talk about—need to figure out from the last time we spoke—but at the same time I need this connection with him. Need the carnal physicality between the two of us that hits me like a shock wave as it crosses the distance between us and crashes into me before we can figure the rest out.

And I know he feels it too because within a beat Colton strides toward me with purpose. Within an instant of reaching me, my legs are wrapped around his waist and our mouths are on one another’s with a frenzied need. My hands grip his shoulders. One of his grabs my backside while the other grips my neck, holding my mouth to his, so he can take everything I am offering, and then some.

“God, I f*cking missed you,” he growls into my mouth between kisses. And without preamble we are on the move. His powerful legs stride beneath me, and strong arms hold me secure while his lips bruise mine in unbidden possession.

Noise filters back. Hoots and hollers of the crew ring through the empty stadium as Colton makes no apologies for walking away without a second thought. Someone shouts “Get a room!” and I am so overwhelmed, so desperate to sate the desire unfurling within and shocking through my system that I answer before Colton can.

“Who needs a room?” I say before my lips crash back against his, hands fisting in his hair, hips grinding into his as his erection rubs against me with every step.

Laughter rings out followed by catcalls, but they’re only background noise to the freight train of desire bearing down on us. “Hurry,” I tell him in between desperate kisses.

“Fuck,” he mutters as he tries to find an open door at my back without wanting to take his mouth from mine.

“Oh, you better plan on it,” I reply as I pull back so he can find the handle. He belts out a laugh as my tongue glides to his neck, the taste of salt on my tongue, the vibration of his laughter beneath my lips.

We’re on the move again, up a set of stairs in a darkened corridor, and I have no clue where we are. I hold on for the ride, laughter bubbling up, relief flowing through me as my body tenses with the anticipation of what’s to come.

We’re suddenly bathed in a muted light, and I turn my head and blink my eyes to take in our surroundings. We are in one of the luxury boxes on pit row: plush couches, a concessions bar on one side, a table spanning the length of the wall of tinted windows that looks down on the track, where his crew is tinkering with his car.

That’s all I have time to take in because Colton’s lips find mine again, his mouth a toxic concoction of need and lust. My legs fall from his hips, feet dropping to the ground, as we move toward the counter in a clumsy choreography of steps. We reach the lip of the counter, and I lean my hips back against it, as Colton’s hands roam down my torso, before I feel bare hands beneath my shirt on my ribcage.