I didn't want to only be known as the pretty, blonde daughter of a famous race car driver. I wanted to make a name for myself and I wasn't going to let anyone get in my way. So when I saw the opportunity of a lifetime, I jumped. Being the face of the hottest new racing team in the business was a dream come true.
Until he showed up.
Griffin McGregor. Bad boy star driver. On the track, he's gold. Off the track? He's everything my daddy ever warned me about. Infuriatingly egotistical, explosive temper, argumentative know-it-all...why does he have to be so freaking hot?
It'll be a miracle if we can get this team to the championship title without killing each other. Or worse. Because the last thing I'm going to do is wreck my career by jumping in bed with a race car driver.
He grabs my wrist and stops me. His hand is cool and dry, but causes my body to burn like dry tinder in an instant. My lips part as he slides his fingers up to cradle my head. I let him, like this is our usual. Why, Shelby? Because I can’t freaking stop myself when he touches me.
“No. I need to kiss you.” His hands tangle in my hair, his lips crashing against mine and pulling me into his hard body. I am sucked into his needy kisses, the hungry way he pulls at my lips and swirls my tongue. I couldn’t stop him if I wanted to. I guess I don’t really want to at all, with the clenching in my core and how I rise to meet his mouth harder.
This. Oh my God, this. His hot mouth leaves mine, traveling along my jaw and biting my earlobe. How he can know what would turn me on so fully is beyond me, but I am on. So on. My hands tangle around his shoulders as he kisses my neck, biting gently and licking the pain away. I moan and it seems to be all the encouragement he needs to haul me up around his hips and back me into the wall.
Oh no. That’s the wall I share with Wyatt, and if this is going down, I don’t want him to hear, of all people.
“Not here. Bedroom,” I manage as he rocks his hips into mine and sucks on my neck.
I hold on to him as he walks us to my room and lays me on the bed I just crawled out of. The bedside lamp casts light on his profile as he studies me, nearly naked beneath him.
“Griffin, I don’t—”
He cuts me off with his mouth returning to mine, his hands on my boobs, pinching my nipples through my thin tank top until I forget what I wanted to say and just gasp my pleasure into his mouth. He works the tank up and over my head, finally releasing my mouth. He sinks on top of me, barely holding his weight off me with his elbows, and takes my nipple into his hot, wet mouth. I cry out as the pleasure mixes with the pain of a sharp bite, but pull him closer so he’ll do it again.
“Oh, Shelby. You’re so sweet. So goddamn sweet. I want to taste all of you. Touch your skin and make you writhe. Fill you with my cock and hear you cry my name. I want you to beg for me, baby. Do you want that?”
“Don’t push your luck. I don’t beg,” I manage as his hand finds me through my damp panties. His fingers take up a leisurely pace tracing over the material, lightly skimming over my piercing and back down. I might just beg, if he keeps touching me like that.
“You like that, baby? You like when I touch you?” This cocky asshole sure likes to hear when he does something right.
“Yes, now touch me like you mean it.”
He chuckles, pulling my panties over my hips and down my legs. He glides his hand back up my leg, along my inner thigh and so close to the target I’m shaking with anticipation and need. He brushes my piercing and groans along with me.
This is weeks of build up. A kind of foreplay that, for us, was slinging insults that mean “I want you” instead of “you’re a dick.” It’s the looks we stole. The dances we made do with when we wanted so much more. It’s that one burning hot kiss in a crowded room that made us realize we needed so much more. It’s the forbidden that feels so right.
“No. I need to kiss you.” His hands tangle in my hair, his lips crashing against mine and pulling me into his hard body. I am sucked into his needy kisses, the hungry way he pulls at my lips and swirls my tongue. I couldn’t stop him if I wanted to. I guess I don’t really want to at all, with the clenching in my core and how I rise to meet his mouth harder.
This. Oh my God, this. His hot mouth leaves mine, traveling along my jaw and biting my earlobe. How he can know what would turn me on so fully is beyond me, but I am on. So on. My hands tangle around his shoulders as he kisses my neck, biting gently and licking the pain away. I moan and it seems to be all the encouragement he needs to haul me up around his hips and back me into the wall.
Oh no. That’s the wall I share with Wyatt, and if this is going down, I don’t want him to hear, of all people.
“Not here. Bedroom,” I manage as he rocks his hips into mine and sucks on my neck.
I hold on to him as he walks us to my room and lays me on the bed I just crawled out of. The bedside lamp casts light on his profile as he studies me, nearly naked beneath him.
“Griffin, I don’t—”
He cuts me off with his mouth returning to mine, his hands on my boobs, pinching my nipples through my thin tank top until I forget what I wanted to say and just gasp my pleasure into his mouth. He works the tank up and over my head, finally releasing my mouth. He sinks on top of me, barely holding his weight off me with his elbows, and takes my nipple into his hot, wet mouth. I cry out as the pleasure mixes with the pain of a sharp bite, but pull him closer so he’ll do it again.
“Oh, Shelby. You’re so sweet. So goddamn sweet. I want to taste all of you. Touch your skin and make you writhe. Fill you with my cock and hear you cry my name. I want you to beg for me, baby. Do you want that?”
“Don’t push your luck. I don’t beg,” I manage as his hand finds me through my damp panties. His fingers take up a leisurely pace tracing over the material, lightly skimming over my piercing and back down. I might just beg, if he keeps touching me like that.
“You like that, baby? You like when I touch you?” This cocky asshole sure likes to hear when he does something right.
“Yes, now touch me like you mean it.”
He chuckles, pulling my panties over my hips and down my legs. He glides his hand back up my leg, along my inner thigh and so close to the target I’m shaking with anticipation and need. He brushes my piercing and groans along with me.
This is weeks of build up. A kind of foreplay that, for us, was slinging insults that mean “I want you” instead of “you’re a dick.” It’s the looks we stole. The dances we made do with when we wanted so much more. It’s that one burning hot kiss in a crowded room that made us realize we needed so much more. It’s the forbidden that feels so right.
Adrian R. Hale is a whirlwind of energy and optimism, just as ready to tell you about her books as she is to invite you over for cookies. She is a big dreamer and believes in chasing them down with speed and enthusiasm, much like the characters she writes. You can find her cycling around Austin, TX, running trails, baking gourmet cupcakes, beautifying people for weddings and photo shoots, and traveling all over the country in pursuit of those interests. Once upon a time, Adrian went to college thinking she would be a journalist, but dropped out to go to beauty school. Her first published novel ended up being about a hair and makeup artist. Things have definitely come full circle! She loves hearing from her readers at adrianrhale@gmail.com.
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