Real (Real, #1)(43)

“Aren’t we a f*cking pair?” I laugh, finding it rather humorous how screwed up we both are.

“We are indeed,” she says, and the little laugh she emits tells me so much. I press the accelerator down some. I’ve never needed approval from anyone, but right now I need it from her. Need her to see that I’m trying, both on and off the track.

“Hey, Ace, can I bring the guys back on?”

“Yeah,” I reply quickly. I hit turn four again and feel a little more confident, a lot more sure that I can do this. And I know how a large part of that is because she’s here. Shit, even after I was an * to her, have put her through hell with the paparazzi chasing her, she’s still here. “Ry … I …” My voice fades but my mind completes them.

I’m sorry.

I race you.

Thank you.

“I know, Colton. Me too.” Her voice breaks when she says it, and I feel like I can breathe again, like my world was just somehow set right when it’s been inside out the time without her.





Colton’s demons have robbed him of so much in his life. But he’s finally faced them, finally told Rylee he loves her. We know how the story ends, so when did he have that a-ha moment when he knew she was the one he wanted to do the one thing he swore he’d never do—get married?

In this new scene, you’ll get the answers.



She switched it. When the hell did she do that?

I pick up the picture from my bookshelf, the one that sits in exactly the same place the one of Tawny and me used to. Frame’s the same, picture’s not.

The new one is of Ry and me at my comeback race. I don’t fight the smirk when I think that wasn’t the only victory lane I claimed that night with her arms wrapped around my waist.

And something else around my cock.

Fuck, she’s gorgeous. Her head is angled back, grin on her face, but her eyes are on me. And that look in them—that frozen moment of time—reflects clear as f*cking day her feelings for me. Not a single doubt.

I’m one lucky son of a bitch.

Well shit. When I look at my image, there’s no denying I feel the same way about her. The look on my ugly mug tells anyone who sees the picture that she’s snagged me hook, line, and double-sinker.

Funny thing is I see a man completely voodooed and I’m not even spooked by it.

I’m still getting used to the thought of it, the taste of it. And hell if I’m quite liking the foreign feeling, especially because it means I get to slide between those sexy as f*ck curves of hers and claim the finish line every chance I get.

I know the game has caught up with this player because as much as that thought’s a turn on, I like the idea even more that when I wake up I can reach over to find her in my bed next to me, that sleepy smile on her lips and that rasp to her morning voice.

God, I sound like a f*cking *. All sappy and shit.

The woman has topped me from the bottom when I never thought it was a possibility. But f*ck me, being beneath her means I get a damn good view of those tits of hers while I’m looking up.

My balls tighten at the thought alone.

Yep. I’m a damn voodooed man. Who would’ve known it’d feel so good to be under a woman’s spell.

I’m starting to feel cracks in the ground beneath me because Hell sure as f*ck is starting to freeze over.

I set the picture down, glancing one more time at it with a shake of my head. Nice, Ry. A sly removal of Tawny and subtle claiming of me.

And f*ck if I don’t like that claim. Who would’ve thought? Huh. Stranger f*cking things have happened over the past few months I shouldn’t be so shocked by feeling so okay with this.

Those baby steps of mine have turned into full on leaps. I guess I should start practicing for the long jump if this shit keeps up.

I wander out of the office forgetting the article from Race Weekly, so completely lost in thought. And then I see the woman who holds them captive. She’s out on the patio in deep discussion with my mom and Quinlan over something.

And it’s f*cking weird how perfectly she fits here, there, everywhere in my life.

Jesus, I sound like a f*cking Dr. Seuss poem.

“How come you’re not at the track?”

My dad’s voice pulls me from my thoughts, and I immediately realize I forgot to grab the article for him, distracted by Ry’s bait and switch. And then I wonder how long he’s been standing there watching me watch Rylee.

“What? Why would I be at the track?” He’s lost me. It’s Sunday, a non-race day and no testing scheduled, so why the f*ck would I be at the track?

He looks me in the eyes like he always has to judge how I’m doing from what he sees there since talking’s not really my forte. And for the first time in forever, he gets this ghost of a smirk and just nods his head like he knows something I don’t. He stares at me a moment longer and then hands me the bottle of beer in his hand before sitting down in one of two leather chairs facing the fine-ass view in front of us.

Of the ocean and the women.

“Sit down, son.”

Famous f*cking last words. I suddenly feel like I’m thirteen again and about to get read the riot act for something or other that I most likely deserve to get punished for. I take a pull on the beer, enjoying my last meal before the sentence is handed down.

I sigh and plop down next to him and repeat my question. “Why would I be at the track?”