As the music on the radio changes to “Diamonds” by Rihanna, I lean back and close my eyes. It’s the same song Ryder and I danced to at Shrine, and the memories come rushing in—of his arms around me, his forehead against mine, the warmth of his breath against my lips. Instead of pushing the thought away, as I should, I imagine his mouth on mine—passionate, possessive—until there’s nothing left but us, merged into one.
I must have dozed off because Damon’s voice jolts me awake.
“Wake up, sleepyhead, we’re nearly there.”
I open my eyes to a tranquil country scene: a divided highway flanked by stretches of what looks like harvested corn fields. The trees lining the road are mostly bare, with only a smattering of colored leaves left over from the fall foliage.
Damon points to a long, perfectly trimmed hedge on our left. “I think it’s here.”
We turn left through an opened white gate hanging off two stone pillars onto a long paved driveway. After a few minutes we reach the house—a grand Tuscan-like mansion fringed by tall and thin cypress trees. We park the truck on the circle drive between a green Aston Martin and a red Ferrari that Damon looks at as if he’s going having a fit. Before I know it, he’s jumped out to ogle it up close.
“Oh. My. God. Look at it. That’s a LaFerrari. There are only about five hundred in the world. Wow, I can’t believe I’m looking at it.”
Rolling my eyes, I step out of the truck. “Come on, it’s just a car.”
“Elle, it’s not just a car, it’s a LaFerrari!”
His eyes nearly popping out of their sockets, Damon saunters around the car while I march up to the front door and press the bell, hearing it ring inside. I take a deep breath, doing my damnedest to crush the butterflies in my stomach. Would he open the door himself, or would he have servants to do it for him? I don’t know which is worse.
The door opens, and it is him. Barefoot, he’s wearing a light-gray long-sleeved shirt that does nothing to reveal his muscular build, and faded jeans riding low on his hips. To my dismay, the butterflies I thought I’d successfully crushed come fluttering back to life.
“Hey. You found it.”
“Yeah. Cosy little place you have here.” I immediately regret using my mean, sarcastic tone, so I quickly add, “You’ll have to excuse my friend who’s drooling all over your car. Hey Damon, meet Ryder.”
Looking up from his daze, Damon grins when he spots Ryder.
“That’s some awesome car, man.”
“I know. Don’t ask me how hard it was to get hold of, though.”
“Yeah, luckily you already had five Ferraris, otherwise you couldn’t have nabbed this one.” Ryder’s black friend whom I recognize from that fateful race when we first met, appears next to him in the doorway.
Smirking, Ryder puts an arm around him. “Alex, meet Elle and her friend Damon. Why don’t you take them to the track while I get changed? I’ll meet you there later.”
Introductions out of the way, the three of us get into Damon’s truck, and Alex leads us around the house onto a paved road bordering a perfect lawn and cutting through a copse of trees. Taking in the imposing mansion and matching manicured gardens, I say, “This place is something else.”
Alex grins. “You ain’t seen nothing yet. You should see the race track. It’s awesome; it’s Ryder’s pride and joy.”
“How long is it?” I ask.
“Three miles, fifteen turns. We’ll stop at the straight where you’ll do the quarter mile.”
Damon draws in a breath when the road joins the race track. Forty or so foot wide, the paved track stretches into the distance before it swerves out of view. Feeling a cold knot forming in my stomach, I finger my eyebrow piercing. A private race track in the middle of the countryside—the decadence of it should irk me, but I’m secretly looking forward to trying it out. I’ve never seen a real race track, let alone ride on one.
When we get out of the truck, Ryder is already waiting in his riding gear, squatting beside his RR, helmet under his arm. We take my bike out and roll it next to Ryder’s.
Ryder cocks his head to me. “Come on, I’ll show you the track. Let’s do a lap.”
I nod and follow him. He’s deliberately going slowly, pointing out all the slopes and the different banked turns to me. I can’t help but being impressed; he’s clearly put in a lot of effort making it into a professional track. When we get back to the straight, where Alex and Damon are waiting, he slows down further, drawing my attention to the start and finish lines.
I stop alongside Damon and get off the bike. “Do you want to have a go?”
“Hell yeah.” Grinning, he jumps on and rockets away.
Ryder closes the distance between us. “Are you ready for this?”
“I’m as ready as I’ll ever be. Can we do some practice runs?”
“Sure. As many as you like.” He winks at me with a half-smirk.
I arch one brow. “You’re sure in a good mood today.”
“I’m just glad to have you here. I’ll finally get my chance to collect on my winnings.”
“As cocky as always, I see. I think we both know I have the best chance of winning. Especially since I whipped your ass the last time we raced.”
Squinting, Ryder gazes at the track. “We’ll see.”
Damon returns, beaming from ear to ear.
“This track is so cool.”
Ryder turns to him. “Hey, how about you and Alex race first?”
“Great idea!” Damon flashes a broad grin.
Alex gets on Ryder’s bike and both men roll towards the start line, revving their engines and peering at two red stop lights at both sides of the track that I’ve just noticed. Ryder takes out his cell phone, presses the screen, and a few seconds later the light changes to orange, then green.
Alex and Damon shoot away, soon becoming dots in the distance. When Ryder cocks his head, I follow him to the finish line, and when we arrive, Damon’s wide grin tells me he’s won.
Ryder looks at his cell, then says, “Yep, it’s yours, Damon.”
Curious, I sidle up to him to take a peek at the screen. Without looking up, he puts his hand around my waist, pulling me closer to him, and I flinch, the heat of his touch searing my back through my jacket.
“There’s a camera at the finish line, which sends videos to my cell. And there’s another camera on top of that pole.” With the hand holding his cell, he points to a pole in the middle of the track. “That one gives you an overview of the whole race.”
After a few presses on the screen, a video appears showing a bird’s eye view of the race, followed by a close-up of the end of the race. Both clearly show that Damon won.
“Here, try it out. Press when the button turns green.”
Letting go of my waist, he hands me his cell.
“Guys, you want to try again?”
Damon and Alex swing around and ride back to the start line while I keep an eye on the screen. When a big red button turns green, I press on it, and a second later I hear the roar of their engines. Damon and Alex rush over the finish line, and it looks like Alex won this time. A press on the ‘replay’ button shows video proof of Alex’s win.
“Fair?” Ryder asks, eyebrow raised.
I nod. “Looks like it.”
“Whenever you’re ready, Elle, let me know, and we’ll get our race started.”
I decide to do a few practice races with Damon and Alex, and so does Ryder. As the four of us take turns in winning, I see no point in procrastinating any longer, so I turn to Ryder.
“I’m ready.”
“Okay.” He reaches out his hand. “Good luck.”
I reluctantly take his hand and he grips it for a few seconds, holding my gaze. Determined not to look away, I try to ignore the electric charge that shoots up my arm, causing my pulse to kick up a notch.
“May the best racer win,” he says.
Narrowing my eyes, I withdraw my hand and stride towards my bike.
With Damon wi
shing me luck, I get on and ride to the start line. Not paying any attention to Ryder next to me, I focus on the red light. All my senses on alert, I take some deep breaths.
I am ready. Let the race begin.
Ryder
This is the moment I’ve been waiting for.
I’m behind the start line, completely focused on the length of track before me. I deliberately ignore Elle, knowing how distracted I’ll be by her enticing body wrapped around her bike. As I’ve been training with Alex for a few hours before they arrived, I know I’m in good form, so I won’t let anything ruin my chances. Today, losing is not an option—I will win.
Breathing deeply, I raise my hand, the signal to Alex to get the start sequence going. He responds by lifting a finger, and the stop lights flick to red. My heart is beating in my ears. This is it—the next ten seconds will decide our fate.
The light changes from red to orange to green… and we speed off. The biting wind howling in my ears, everything blurs around me except the track right in front of me. I don’t notice Elle next to me, not even the finish line. It’s like I’m in another dimension, one where all revolves around speed. I must go faster. Faster. Faster.
Hearing someone yell my name, I realize the race must be over, so I put on the brake and swing around. Heart still pounding, I get off my bike beside Alex, Damon, and Elle, who are peering at the screen on my cell.
“It was close,” says Alex. “We couldn’t tell, so we’ll have to check the videos.”
He brings up the first video: a bird’s-eye view of the race, starting with the two of us behind the start line. When we take off, I take the lead, then Elle inches past me for an instant before I cross the finish line a fraction faster than she.
“Looks like it’s yours, bro,” Alex says.
Nostrils flaring, Elle snatches the phone from his hand. “Let’s look at the other videos.”
She starts the side-view video of the finish line and presses the slow motion button a few times until it’s at its slowest. Still by still, I see myself crossing the finish line clearly ahead of her—it’s the final proof of my win.
I high-five Alex, who pats me on the back.
“Congrats, man,” Damon says, followed by a clearing of his throat and a soft “Sorry, Elle.”
I decide to abstain from any wisecracks when I see her glaring at the screen—undoubtedly playing and replaying the videos—but I can’t suppress a smug grin. I’ve won! I’m ecstatic, not only because I have my coveted prize in mind, but because my honor has finally been restored. I didn’t realize till now how much my earlier loss against her has irked me.
Lightheaded, I ride my bike into the garage. When I close the door behind me and walk back to the house, Damon’s truck is parked out front, and Damon and Elle are huddled together, his hands on her shoulders.
Despite my victorious mood, a sliver of jealousy slices through me. I hate seeing another man’s hands on her, especially after I’ve won this race—she’s mine now. Even though she’s told me they’re just friends, I can’t help but wonder. What’s worse, I have to admit that they kind of look right together, with Damon’s piercings and those goddamn tattoos on his muscled arms.
Balling my fists by my sides, I have to restrain myself from yanking him off her. Thankfully, Alex strides up to me with his hand raised.
“Man, she’s real upset. She was about to lose it just now. Hey, don’t worry, he’s on your side. He’s just trying to calm her down.”
Damon has released his hands from Elle’s shoulders and she comes into full view: hunched over with her gaze fixed on the ground, she looks anguished, miserable. Contrite, I punch my fists against my thighs. Above all, I want her to like me. I want her to feel comfortable with me. Even though I’ve won this race, I’m not some brute who’d force himself on her—I want her to want me, too. I close my eyes briefly and call out, “Why don’t you guys come in for a drink?”
Alex thrusts up his fist. “Yeah man, I’m parched!”
Damon spins around, nods his head, and heads to the front door. Elle trudges behind him, her gaze not leaving the ground until we reach the kitchen, where the three of them sit down at the island. I pull some cans of beer from the fridge, and for the next minute or so, the sounds of pulling tabs, greedy gulps, and contented sighs fill the kitchen.
Damon licks his lips. “Hey, this is real good. What is it?”
“It’s a special craft beer from Colorado. It’s a cross between a pale ale and a lager.” I take another swig of the cool, crisp beer.
Elle furrows her brow. “Hey, I thought you didn’t drink.”
“I’ll make an exception for a special occasion.” I clink my can to hers. “Cheers.”
Her eyes narrow, and I hold her gaze as we both take a swig of beer.
Alex asks, “Any news from the street racing circuit?”
Damon nods. “There was a big race on last night, in Newark. Remember CJ, Elle? He’s on a roll. He won all his races and bagged a shitload of cash.”
Her eyes widen. “You mean he beat Mikey Miller?”
“Yep. Your nemesis has finally been dethroned.”
I raise my brow. “What do you mean, nemesis?”
“It’s nothing.” Elle turns away, but isn’t fast enough for me not to notice the flush creeping up her cheeks.
Damon plonks his can on the kitchen island. “No, it’s something all right. About a year ago, Mikey and Elle were rivals, but Elle won against him and became the number one street racer. It took a couple of months before he managed to beat her.”
“Mikey played dirty,” she growls.
“Yeah, that’s what he tried with CJ, too, hiding a nitrous bottle under the subframe. I mean, come on, who still does that? But CJ’s not dumb, he tracked it down it before the race.”
Elle takes a sip of her beer. “How did Mikey react when he lost?”
“He was real pissed and wanted a rematch right there and then. But of course he couldn’t. He’ll have to wait for the next race.”
I’m still reeling from the revelation: Elle, a former street racing champion? I can’t help it—I’m impressed. It’s no wonder I lost against her before. And it makes my victory today all the sweeter. Leaning over the island, I snatch her gaze.
“Well, you can challenge CJ now. Be number one again.”
She shakes her head, lowering her gaze to the beer can in her hand. “I don’t think so. I’m out of the game. I have been for a while now.”
“Well, maybe I could give it a go. I’ve been doing pretty well, even against a former champ.”
Elle jerks her head towards me, her eyes blazing. “No. Don’t.”
“Why the hell not? It’s okay for you but not for me?”
“It’s way too dangerous. You know shit about the street racing crowd. You’d get slaughtered in a second.”
“Wow, it almost seems like you care.”
“I’m just warning you. But why should you listen to me? Just go and get yourself killed. I don’t care.”
I glare at her, determined not to be affected by her hurtful words, even if I hope she doesn’t mean them. She shoots a fiery glare back at me, and the tension between us is palpable, only broken when Damon gets off his bar stool with a scraping noise.
“Uh, I think I’ll let you lovebirds fight it out. I have to go to work.”
He flinches when Elle punches him on the arm.
Downing the last of his beer, Alex also gets up. “Yeah, I’m off, too. We’ll give you two some privacy.”
I follow them into the hallway, but before we reach the front door, Damon pulls me to the side.
“Be careful with her, okay? Don’t you dare hurt her.”
I give him a reassuring tap on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, man. I’ll look after her.”
Seemingly satisfied with my answer, he slaps me on my back and steps outside through the front door that Alex has opened.
I raise my hand. “See you guys.”
After I close the door,
I’m about to hurry back to rejoin Elle in the kitchen, but stop dead in my tracks.
She stands right behind me—pale, frozen, eyes wide—like a deer caught in the headlights.
CHAPTER TEN
Elle
The front door clicks shut, and reality sinks in: I’ve lost.
This wasn’t supposed to happen. I was supposed to return with Damon, my pockets full of funding for the soup kitchen. But here I am, pockets empty and at Ryder’s mercy, to do whatever he wants with me.
He stands in front of the door, his back to me, and when he turns around, I’m rooted to the spot. My mouth feels dry and my heart is beating madly. What the hell is he going to do to me?
But to my surprise, he keeps his distance, not making any move towards me. He tilts his head slightly, and a glint of concern appears in his eyes.
“Are you okay?”
I nod. “I’m fine.”
He points at the sweeping staircase. “I’ll show you to your room and you can freshen up if you like. Where’s your bag?”
Damn. His words from the other night come back to me, as well as Damon’s this morning. I shouldn’t have been so cocky.
“Uh…I—I didn’t bring one.”
His brow arches, causing a flush to sneak up my cheeks.
“That’s okay. I’m sure I can find you something that fits. Come on, let’s go upstairs.”
I follow him up the staircase to a wide hardwood-floored hallway, where he turns right and opens a door.
“This is your room. You can choose any other room if you like, but I thought you might like this one as it has a view of the pool and the race track.”
I step into the doorway and am stunned—it is at least double the size of my whole apartment. An enormous window overlooking the grounds frames the king-size bed, and the beige, white, and dark wood color scheme sets the tone for the simple but elegant furnishings.
“I’ll show you my room.”
Burn Into Me Page 10
