Drift Heat

by Adrian R. Hale

  Him telling me he loves how wet and tight I am, and me marking his back with my nails and calling his name in release is our way of communicating our otherwise silent desires. I want to live in my delusions that keeping this secret will satisfy my urges while maintaining my precious place on the team. He wants to blow our cover and mark me as his. We both want more, but are stubbornly holding onto the decision to make no-strings sex work. It’s crazy, but I know he feels it too. It’s in the way he holds me tight to him after we finish, how he grips my face and kisses my eyelids, nose, and cheeks reverently.

  It surprises me that he wants so much more than I can give him. I had him pegged for a love ‘em and leave ‘em kind of guy. A casual hook-up at best, a “never call you again once he gets it” at worst. He’s the last person I’d expect to say he wants to take our undercover relationship public. I’m still pretty sure I am another goal for him to achieve, a hate fuck to get out of his system after all of our fighting.

  But I’m finding out he’s actually tender under the crass. He’s afraid of me walking away even though he pushes me so hard. He’s self-sabotaging and fallible and so am I. Neither of us knows what to do with this, other than to feel it out and make it work even as we destroy it.

  But making it work for now means kicking him out of my bed before everyone else gets back to the hotel. He tries to linger, kissing me hungrily, but I push him away and insist he go so he doesn’t get caught leaving my room. When he’s finally gone, the emptiness settles heavily on me.

  I don’t think I can do this forever, or even for long.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  I returned to Newport Beach with a funk that lasted the entire drive back. I’m the one imposing restrictions that I am having a hard time abiding by, which is why the funk has settled heavily on my shoulders. I’m competitive and stubborn enough to see through a failing, hole-riddled plan just because I was the one to set it in motion.

  Thank goodness for good news that creates a welcome distraction. I have been in contact with Trista of Yellow Wheel Productions and we have finalized a huge part of my plan to make sure Smoke and Mirrors makes it onto the radar of every fan of the American Drift League while bringing in more business and sponsors.

  “Paul, I want you to sit down. I have news,” I say, swinging into his office on Monday.

  He looks up at me from where he is rifling through his filing cabinet next to the desk. “Uh oh, good news or bad?” He pulls his desk chair around and sits down, his hands nervously smoothing down his thighs.

  I feel a little guilty with the unofficial offer from TW Motorsports buzzing around my brain and tempting me with breaking boundaries as a female drift driver. I shake my head and push away all thoughts of other offers and remember my place here with S&M. I have a job to do, and I have news that will make Paul smile.

  “Good, of course. I don’t think I would set you up for bad news like that.” I suppress a laugh as the tense expression on his face dissipates into a crinkly-eyed smile.

  “What do you have to surprise me with today, Shelby? It seems like every week there’s something new and exciting you come up with to help us out.”

  I grin and shake my head as I plop onto the plaid couch. “Next week, before we leave San Jose after the competition, I’ve arranged for us to film a tandem run on a beautiful Bay Area road through the Santa Cruz mountains. Highway 9 cuts from the town of Saratoga to Santa Cruz, over thirty-five miles of super winding touge-type roads. We don’t have to do the entire route, but it will be a lot of fun to tear it up and have a professional film crew with multiple cameras and even a few drones to capture it. It won’t be at Ken Block’s Gymkhana standards, but Yellow Wheel promised me they could deliver a fantastic finished cut that will blow people away.”

  “Wait, what?” His mouth drops open and his eyes bug out. “How is that even possible? It will probably cost a fortune to get that kind of thing produced, not to mention how difficult it would be to take our track-legal cars to the streets where they would for sure be impounded on sight for all sorts of violations.”

  “Relax, I have you covered.” I smile, knowing he will have so many questions.

  “How? This is crazy.”

  “Yellow Wheel is only charging us for the permits and equipment rentals. I’ve already paid for it. They have filming permits to close the road for the day, so we can use the track cars. They have all of the gear we will need to make this killer and nothing can stop us.”

  “Why...?” Paul at a loss for words is a beautiful sight. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands, so they flutter from his hair, to his legs, to the arms of the chair beside him.

  “Because I’m not capable of creating the kind of video I want this to be with my GoPro, and because Trista is an old friend and the production company wants to break into action sports.”

  “Why would you pay for this out of your pocket, though? You don’t have to do that. It should be on the shop since this is promoting the team. I don’t understand.”

  “Paul, I love the opportunity you’ve given me here with Smoke and Mirrors. You could have told me to smile for a camera and hand out swag and never listened to a thing I said. You didn’t have to allow me to take over the social media, or listen to the crazy ideas I bring to you. Instead, you’ve always respected me, valued my ideas, allowed me into your home and treated me like family, and even given me a place to stay. That means more than you will ever know. This is my way of saying thanks and helping S&M get more exposure, which is my job.”

  “I don’t know what to say.” His eyes are shining, full of sincere gratitude that makes me blush.

  “Say you’ll let it happen. Let’s get the Supra and the Z out on NorCal roads and see how much fun Griffin and Wyatt can have.”

  “And you.” He leans back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest.

  I frown, my mouth snapping closed. “What about me?”

  “You will drive the Black Sheep. It will be a three person drift run. I want you driving in the video, too, because you and Black Sheep saved us when the Supra was out of commission. It wouldn’t be right to leave it out, and since it’s your car, you’re driving.”

  Now I’m at a loss for words. “Are you sure? I’m not a driver for S&M, it doesn’t seem right.”

  “Yes, absolutely. You’re as much a part of this team as the boys are, and you’re a damn good driver.”

  I smile and shake my head at him. He’s too good to me. “Thanks, Paul.” My simple words of gratitude are thick and heavy with more emotion than they can convey.

  “No, thank you, Shelby. Now, tell me more about this road you have us set to drift.”

  We talk about the film plans throughout the day, with me going so far as to pull up maps and YouTube videos of the drive I have in mind. He’s all for it and can’t believe I was able to arrange it so easily. I don’t tell him how hard Trista had to work to get the permits, but she’s tenacious and feisty and was set on a goal, so she made it happen. There was a moment last week when I thought for sure we wouldn’t be able to arrange all of this in time to make it happen while the team is in San Jose, but she’s a miracle worker.

  I’m just so glad Trista and Yellow Wheel were on board with my idea when I brought it to her. The company had never done something of this scope before, so they have nothing to compare it to. She said they like a challenge, and drifting videos are growing in popularity, so they might as well try their hand at one now. Cormack, the director and her business partner, emailed over a video treatment for me, and it looks like he has a handle on my vision.

  I spend my afternoon at the shop holed up in the office while Paul and Ryan work on the customer cars that are now keeping them busy. They have had steady work coming in since we started getting buzz from my videos and I can tell it’s making a big difference. At least Paul seems thrilled with the backlog he is having to manage now.

  I find my own excitement going through the social media comments from the weekend. We’
ve gained more followers due to Griffin’s win, and Wyatt is getting plenty of attention for his top eight finish as well. Our guys are getting noticed for the right things, their drifting abilities, and not for throwing fits or unsportsmanlike conduct. This is exactly the kind of thing Mas Boost will look at as they determine if our team should be sponsored.

  It’s a fucking huge relief.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  I’m sliding my key into my door, thinking about the leftover salad I’ll have for dinner, when I’m surprised by arms wrapping around my waist and hauling me back against a hard chest. My heart races as I scream and drop my keys, instinctively throwing my elbow back into the solar plexus of my attacker and stomping on his instep. I’m about to kick his kneecap backward when I hear a familiar voice wheeze out.

  “Fuck, Shelby! It’s just me.”

  Griffin.

  I spin around now that his arms are gone and find him doubled over behind me, holding his ribs and trying to catch his breath after having the wind knocked out of him.

  “What the fuck is wrong with you? Why would you sneak up on me like that? I thought I was going to get kidnapped and have horrible things done to me.”

  My hand flutters up to rest over my heart, which is racing freakishly fast as adrenaline dumps in my system and my scare turns to anger. I definitely have a fight instinct, rather than flight. I’ll have to thank Henry for that. He loved to jump out and scare me when we were growing up, and the only way to avoid being taken down by his best wrestling moves was to send him head-over-heels first.

  “Just trying to surprise you. Jesus, you hit hard. Lesson learned. I’ll never sneak up on you again. God help anyone who really tries to attack you.”

  “What are you doing here?” I look around the courtyard, trying to see if anyone is peeking out of their windows at the commotion we are causing.

  “Relax. The guys all went to the CrossFit brick to work out. No one is here to see us together.” The bitterness lacing his voice is acidic, but I shouldn’t be surprised. He wants us public. I don’t.

  “Did you want something?” I feel like a bitch asking like that, but I’m trying to put distance between us, to salvage the emotionless sexual relationship we’re supposed to have.

  Hah. That’s funny.

  “Go to dinner with me. I want to show you around Newport a little. I don’t think you’ve had the chance since you’ve been here.”

  He straightens up, his fingers finally abandoning his abdomen as he recovers. I follow his movements with my hungry eyes that can’t get enough of him. He’s dressed up more than I’ve ever seen him, in dark jeans that follow the strong line of his legs and a gray button-down that turns his eyes a stormy blue.

  Well, this doesn’t jive well with my plan for distance. His offer is just tempting enough for me to abandon it altogether. Exploring Newport and ditching my lackluster salad for restaurant quality food has a huge appeal. Who am I kidding? As much as I want to keep my interest removed, I want to be with him more. It can’t be that bad. Friends have dinner. Coworkers have dinner. We can do dinner. Right?

  “Let me change real quick. Do you want to come in to wait? Or I can meet you at your car.” I pick up my keys and open my door, hesitating on the threshold as I wonder if it’s a good idea to let him in now.

  “Go change. I’m coming in.” I shrug, allowing him to follow me inside. He shuts the door and trails me into my bedroom.

  I raise my eyebrow at him. “If you want to go to dinner, we shouldn’t get distracted in my bedroom.” I gesture vaguely to my bed, knowing he probably has ulterior motives for wanting to be in here.

  He plops down on the bed and leans back on his elbows with his legs hanging over the edge. “By all means, change. I just want a front row seat for the show.” His smile is wolfish and crinkles the corners of his eyes.

  I can’t help but smile back. He’s radiant when he’s in a good mood. Thank goodness he didn’t stay angry at me for hurting him at my door. I open my closet and hunt through the clean clothes I’ve managed to hang up. I’m still living out of boxes for the most part, but my clothes and shoes have a home now. “Where are we going, exactly?”

  “Fig and Olive. It has a great view of the ocean and good food. It’s nice, but not pretentious. Now get naked, dammit, I want a show.”

  “Pushy asshole.” I turn around to hide my smile. I pull my T-shirt over my head and slowly wiggle out of my jeans. If he wants a show, I can give him one. I look over my shoulder and wink at him as I stand in my underwear. At least it’s a matched set, and he’s getting a show as my panties are the cheeky kind that let the bottom half of my buns hang out. I reach into my closet, but I don’t get far as Griffin has come up behind me and wraps me in his arms as he kisses my neck. Thankfully, he doesn’t bite me and suck, so I can enjoy it for a change.

  Instant chill bumps race down my body as his soft breath feathers over my skin with his lips and his fingers caress my stomach. His body is warm as it envelops mine, and his arms hold me with care and consideration. I close my eyes and surrender to his kisses, his touch that is heating me up and sending my pulse throbbing low in my body. I turn in his arms and wrap mine around his neck, pulling his face down to meet mine.

  “I missed you last night. You should have let me come over. I would have had you begging for a release that would have made your headache a distant memory.”

  A tiny stab of guilt pricks me. I had to find an excuse to not see him last night, and a headache is an age-old standard for a reason. “You’re not supposed to distract me right now, we’re going to dinner. This definitely counts as a distraction.” I kiss his mouth sweetly, finding I want to do it again, but deeper. Suddenly, all I want is his mouth all over me.

  “You look good enough to eat. I don’t really need dinner after all.” He places kisses along my neck between words, making me shiver and sigh.

  I’m a little thrown off, but rolling with this new side of him. He’s being unusually gentle and sweet. I’ve grown accustomed to him attacking me with his mouth and hands, ripping my orgasm from my body with fast, hard thrusts, probing fingers, and feasting lips. This softer side of him is...nice. I’m not worried about him leaving a mark because he’s not greedily sucking at my skin, or biting me roughly. I like that too, but it gets old having to force his head away.

  Griffin reaches down and raises me up his body, turning with me in his arms to lay me back on the bed. My heart picks up its pace as his warm mouth leaves mine to feather soft kisses down my neck and across my chest. I arch into his mouth when his lips and tongue slip into my bra to capture my nipple. He teases it into a stiff peak before turning to pay the same respect to the other. His hands gently stroke over my skin, following my curves and setting me alight. He teases out my desire, building me up and making me hungry for him.

  Screw dinner. If he’s going to be this sweet and gentle, I can eat cardboard later and not care.

  My fingers work to free the tiny buttons on his shirt as he returns to my mouth. He shrugs out of it and while he’s away from me, his jeans disappear also. When he drapes his warm body over me, I undulate beneath him, wanting all parts of me to touch him. I wrap him up in my legs and arms, keeping him close as he teases my lips with his tongue. He doesn’t seem in a hurry to have sex like usual. Instead, he pays great attention to my mouth, his arms keeping me tightly pressed against him. It’s beautiful but unnerving, and I have to say something to break the spell he’s casting on me before I become completely enamored with this side of him. It will be easier to not get attached because he’ll be back to his cocky ways before I know it.

  “Fuck me, Griffin.”

  “I’m not gonna fuck you tonight. I want to make love to you,” he says, his hips pressing into mine. “Take you slow and deep and make you feel something other than a rough fuck.”

  I look at him in confusion, suspecting there’s something I’m not grasping. He doesn’t explain. His fingers unhook my bra, tossing it away before he moves of
f of me to send my panties along with it.

  I’m trying to reconcile this new desire for slow and sweet with the Griffin I know who would rather disarm me with dirty talk and push into me in one hard thrust. Are they one and the same? What side is truly him at his core?

  Once he’s sheathed in latex, he settles between my legs and gently eases into me in a slow rocking of his hips. His unhurried movements allow my body to grow used to his size without the usual breathless intensity that is a mix of sweet pleasure and biting pain.

  He keeps his eyes trained on mine and I can’t look away from the new unguarded rawness I see in them. It’s beautiful and so unlike everything I’ve seen from him previously. I let out a breathy sigh as our bodies come together, feeling every bit as full of him, but more so from the emotions he’s pouring into this moment. Is this the real Griffin, under the edgy layers of self-assured attitude and prideful ego?

  “Who are you?” My whispery voice is rounded by building pleasure, my arms hooked around his body as he holds me close.

  “The man I should have been all along.” His fingers brush hair out of my eyes and trail along my cheek. “You deserve more. I shouldn’t fuck you like a whore. I should respect you like the incredible woman that you are.”

  I shut my eyes tightly and loosen my hold on him.

  This. This right here is more than no-strings sex. It’s emotions and promises and so many strings tying us together we will never break free.

  “Look at me, Shelby.” I blink my eyes open, finally meeting his with hesitance. “You’re not a slut. You make bad decisions in the moment just like I do. I never meant to make you feel cheap, but I’ve done more than my share when I was hurt. I should have never caused you to look for attention anywhere else. You have mine now, all of it, and I don’t care what that means for anything else.”