We’re neck to neck.

I’m hitting 100 mph. 120 mph. 150 mph.

We’re fucking fast now. Trees flying past my window. Preston bumping up against my side. I swerve lightly and lock our wheels together. Shove him off the road. Destabilized, I swerve and straighten with a screech. He loses seconds.

Up ahead, there are headlights, like beady white eyes coming at me.

I keep my feet on the pedal, swerving right as the truck passes, dust piling up in a cloud behind me. My heart is racing a thousand miles an hour, and I want it to race even more.

Preston comes up, attempting a pass. He gyrates and bumps me to the side, sending me spinning.

“Fucker.” I let go of the wheel, let her spin before I grab her back in my hold and recover control.

I’m fucking pissed now.

I pull up behind him and kiss his bumper. We meet eyes through his rearview mirror, and I smile menacingly, pressing the last way into the pedal to kiss the fucker harder.

He swerves—I swerve the other way and pass him until he’s eating my dirty air. I push harder to get away so he can’t use my draft, my eyes up ahead, where I pull up the parking brake and spin to turn.

I release it and speed back to the parking lot, my mind on that finish line—and on fucking sexy crash-into-my-cherry-mustang Alana waiting in the crowd.

Is she like my fans who watch me? Whose pussies get wet from the excitement? Whose nipples turn hard as fuck by the time I climb out of the car and give them a glance?

My cock is thick again. It’s been acting up since I met her, and it’s only been intensifying with each second she breathes even in my zip code.

Yeah my dad is a man who goes after what he wants. You can say I’m cut of the same cloth.

I want her beneath me tonight.

I screech to a halt. I turn her off, then ease out of the car, breathing hard. I hear the shuffle of feet as girls scramble to get closer, meanwhile the guys shove their way forward too, including Henley.

“Insane, you’re a ridiculous beast!!” Henley yells.

I raise my arm and slap his hand. He also places my bets, and the wad of cash he shoves into my hand is 30,000-dollars thick.

Yeah it feels good to stuff that money in my back pocket, but not even winning feels as good as the drive.

The moment I hit that pedal, I’m alive.

And tonight I feel drunk with it.

I scan the crowd and look for her—my eyes finding her in the same spot I left her, her mouth gaping wide open. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything as much as I want to fucking kiss the shit out of that mouth. Tonight my prize is her.

My eyes stay on her, my gut roiling with hunger. I smile at her; her eyes widen a little bit, and she blinks.

“We’ve got you a prize … show you what champions …” I’m hearing Henley say.

I start walking forward, feeling crazed like I’ve never felt crazed in my life, my eyes, hands, mind, even the hot, adrenaline-buzzed blood pumping in my veins, all pumping for her.

Lana

I’m still reeling. While people approach him, he cuts a path straight to me, his gaze penetrating and target-like; making me want to bolt.

His lips do that little upward tilt they do that seems so sexy, and for a second, I feel like I’m lightheaded.

I gulp, and then feel mad at myself for acting like some idiot as fucking devil-Racer Tate reaches me, throws himself into a seat next to me, and turns to look at me expectantly with the most gorgeous grin on his face.

I don’t know what to say.

This guy has left me sort of speechless.

“So …” I say, staring in the distance at his beat-up mustang, then at him.

“So …” he says too, in his deep voice, his smile a little more wicked than it was two seconds ago. He glances at my mouth.

Oh god.

Why am I licking my lips?

It only made his eyes narrow and darken.

I open my mouth to speak, failing to find words. He smells like sweat and soap and shampoo, and I feel my traitorous nipples push up to my top again. Why do they do that when he’s around?

“This is illegal,” I state.

His voice is husky from exertion, and his eyes glint with laughter. “That’s why it’s fun.”

I look away from his eyes, trying to focus and clear my head. He leans over and peers into my face, his face shadowed by the moonlight and his jaw now carrying a little scruff. “Are we in agreement?” he presses.

“No.” I glare and shake my head, meeting his cocky gaze. “You’re reckless, Racer.”

“So are you, Alana.”

“It’s just … Lana.”

His brows fly up in surprise. “And a bit of a liar too.”

I purse my lips, still glaring as my gaze goes back to his car. Girls are rubbing against it as if it were him, and I find it disgusting. Why are women always acting so slutty around race car drivers and bad boys?

“You crashed your car,” I say flippantly.

“You crashed my car,” he contradicts, amused.

I laugh, then scowl in his direction. “You crashed it more. I can’t believe you were making such a fuss about me crashing into you when it was just a little kiss—”

He leans in to peck my lips—fast but firmly. “That’s a kiss.”

I lose my breath.

My eyes wide.

He eases back, lips smiling as he comes to his feet and stretches his hand out to take me by the elbow and help me to my feet.

“Let’s get out of here.” He starts walking, leading the way.

“And go where?”

“Anywhere I can get my hands on you.” He’s serious. His hand is sliding into the back of my neck and I feel tiny as he guides me forward by the nape.

“I don’t know what to do with you,” I breathe, looking sideways at his profile.

He smirks, shooting me a sidelong glance. “I know exactly what to do with you.”

I gulp.

He studies me with a growing smirk, his eyes fierce and savage as he tugs me closer and closer to him with that hand. He’s guiding me to the parking lot. To my car. “Have your keys?” he asks.

I nod dumbly and unlock the car.

He eases me into the back of my car, following me in and shutting the door behind me. Suddenly I can smell sweat and warm guy, all too close to me.

He pulls me up a little close to his very hard, muscled side, his eyes trekking up my neck, to my jaw. “I wanted to taste you the second I saw you,” he husks out as he runs his big palm down my arm.

“Why would—”

He leans his dark head, and his tongue is in my mouth.

He touches my lips lightly, moving and parting them beneath his, and I’m going to stop him any second now, except oh my fucking god!

He kisses me for ten seconds, and when we pause for air, I try, I really try, to grab some while I can.

His eyes are really blue, really dark and really beautiful. He’s looking at me in ways I’ve never been stared at before, his eyes trekking my whole face, and for just a second I want to pretend I’m just a girl. I missed the parties, the make-outs, the guys, and suddenly here is this guy and I feel so drawn to him I’m trembling.

He drags me to his lap, and he’s so hard I’m turning to putty in his hands.

He leans over. I stutter when he reaches out and takes a strand of my hair, leaning in. To give me …

The most ferocious kiss I’ve ever been given in my whole life.

“Who the fuck are you, huh?” He covers my face with one hand, and stares down at me, smiling against my mouth, inhaling hard.

“Who the fuck are you?” I breathe.

My wet dream or my worst nightmare?

He presses his mouth to mine, a little more tenderly, sliding his fingers into my hair. He starts to kiss me again, tonguing me really hungrily, as if he needs me to live.

I feel myself melt, my whole body respond and vibrate in the most pleasant ways.

There’s a knock on the window. “Dude. The prize is … ahem. Outside.”

As we hear a guy speak outside, Racer glances past my shoulders at that someone who knocked, then at me with a curl of his lips. “We’ve got spectators. Want to take this somewhere more quiet?” he asks.

“Where?” I ask, breathless.