Crashed (Driven, #3)(75)

“God, I f*cking race you.” The emphatic words on his lips are followed by a lopsided smirk and a shake of his head, as if he’s still comprehending the depths of his emotions.

How many more times can my heart fall harder for this man? Because there it is again, the unpredictability of Colton that makes what he says just that much more poignant. Every part of my body shivers at his words.

It’s useless to try and fight the moisture pooling in my eyes because those words mean so much more than just “racing” to me. They mean he’s trying, he’s apologizing for the times when he’s going to f*ck up. And for a man previously closed off from everyone, he’s handing me the key to the lock, and giving me an all-access pass.

I reach my free hand out and cup the back of his neck, pulling him into me because a man this magnificent, inside and out, is just too irresistible. I kiss him tenderly, licking my tongue between his lips so it dances intimately with his. No urgency, just soft, gentle acceptance. It’s only been minutes since our last kiss but it already feels like a lifetime. As the kiss ends, he rests his forehead against mine and I say, “I race you too.”

I can feel his smile spread against my lips, and in this moment, I know he actually gets it. He actually accepts the fact that I love him and it’s such a figurative ray of light from this dark angel of mine that I grasp onto it, silently vowing to always remember how I feel right here, right now.

We may not have everything figured out, may not know what the future’s going to hold, but at least I know we’re in this race together.

“C’mon,” he says, pulling on my hand. “Let’s get out of here.”

We head toward the garage area where the guys are working on the car. As we enter, Beckett shakes his head and smirks at us. I avert my gaze quickly, so very aware that every guy in the garage knows exactly what we were just doing. The walk of shame is one thing, but when you have an audience that knows you’re doing it, well … that’s a lot more embarrassing.

Colton laughs beside me and squeezes my fingers laced with his. “What’s so funny?” I mumble, still keeping my eyes trained on the ground.

“You’re cute when you blush,” he teases. “I prefer the pink parts elsewhere on you more though.”

My mouth shocks open and before I can even recover, his mouth is on mine. The clang of tools surround us and yet all I hear is the beat of my heart. The kiss is merely a tease of what we did earlier, but when he pulls back after kissing the tip of my nose, a smirk curls up one corner of his mouth.

“What was that for?” Like I even care what the answer is. He can do that to me anytime, anywhere.

“You know me, sweetheart. If they’re gonna stare, you might as well give them something good to stare at, right? Besides, if it wasn’t clear enough earlier, I want everyone in here knowing you’re mine.”

My heart swells at his words before the sarcasm is off my tongue. “Staking a claim are we?”

“Baby, claim’s already been made,” he says, stopping to look at me with a smirk. “No doubt about that.”

I roll my eyes and laugh at him as I keep walking. “C’mon, Ace,” I say over my shoulder, “can’t you keep up?”

I feel his hand smack my butt. “You sure as hell know I can keep anything up,” he says, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and leaning down so his mouth is near my ear. “My dick, you pressed against the door, my stamina, and any other thing that can be considered up … but those are the most important ones, don’t you think?” He chuckles as I shake my head and make a sound of amusement.

We sort out the fact that Sammy is going to take my car home for me and then Colton leads me to a covered parking area where Sex sits. I can’t deny that the sight of the sexy-as-sin car brings back a rush of more than memorable memories that put a smirk on my face. From my locked gaze on the hood, I stare over to Colton where a lascivious grin meets mine. He raises his eyebrows, mischief dancing in his eyes, his tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip as he opens the door for me.

“Nice choice of car today,” I tell him as I slide into the opulent interior.

“This reminds me of you, and I needed you here today,” he says before shutting my door so I can’t respond. And maybe it’s best that I can’t, because his simple statement means so very much to me.

Baby steps.

Within seconds we’re on the freeway with the sounds of the Dave Matthews Band floating around us, the purr of the motor cocooning us, and the frenzied media following us. Colton looks in the rear view mirror before looking over at me from behind his sunglasses. “You buckled in?” he asks and all of a sudden my stomach twists in knots, fearing what’s going to happen next.

I don’t even have a chance to respond before the car surges forward, the motor revving, Colton laughing as the car flies faster than the press chasing us can go. I feel a surge of adrenaline and for a split second I can understand the pull of his addiction, but then I look up as he weaves in and out of traffic, and my heart lodges in my throat as the world beyond blurs.





I square up the documents on the kitchen counter. I’m satisfied with the transcription of Zander’s deposition to bring formal charges against his father. I tuck them in the manila folder and realize I’ve lost track of time; the clock reads seven-forty and the boys have to be at the field by eight. Oh crap! I need to finish getting the stuff together for their games. I rise from the table and start filling sport bottles and putting them on the counter next to bags of sunflower seeds. I strain to hear the commotion in the bedrooms and can tell that Jackson has the boys on task and almost ready to leave.