Racing The Beast (Dirt Track Dogs #2)

by P. Jameson

  She ran up to him and he kissed her hard on the lips, grabbing her ass unashamedly.

  Diz glared. “What do you even call that move?”

  She grinned. “Hurricane Ella.”

  “Pretty sure that was against the rules.”

  She shrugged. “You were the one who mentioned showmanship.”

  Punk laughed, catching Beast’s attention. She’d moved closer to the grill.

  “That smells great,” she told Surge before turning her gaze to Beast. “You gonna beat my girl? That was some wicked-ass driving out there.”

  His lazy grin curved his lips as he lifted a finger to tap her nose to remind her of their earlier bunny conversation.

  “You bet I will. Watch this.” He leaned in and kissed her cheek before he could even think about the repercussions.

  Shit, shit, shit. Fuck.

  He didn’t look at her as he pulled back and stalked off to start Diz’s car.

  Chapter Seven

  Punk froze. The sensation of Beast’s lips on her skin was like fire on a glacier. It threatened to melt her down until there was nothing left. Nothing left of her resistance. Of horrible ancient memories. Of her loneliness.

  He pulled back, turning quickly and making his way to the car at the edge of the track. She watched him the whole way, aware of the silence around her.

  Fuck him, leaving her like that to answer to everyone.

  “What the hell, woman?” Surge teased. “I guess that didn’t call for a ball buster? I’ll have to keep that in mind.”

  “Shut up,” she muttered, turning to face them.

  But no one was staring at her. They were blatantly not staring at her. Whatever. If they wanted to ignore it, she would too.

  Ella and Dog Boy were twisted together like some freaky human pretzel. Annie was stirring a bowl of something. Potato salad? Diz had his eyes on the track.

  There was someone missing.

  “Where’s Blister?”

  Annie’s head jerked around. She looked anxious to hear the answer to Punk’s question. But that was Annie. If she invited you to a party, she took it personally when you didn’t show up.

  “He’s around,” Drake said. “He’ll probably show up later.”

  Punk watched Annie’s shoulders relax, and crutched over to talk to her.

  “Hey. Tell me the truth. Does my nose move when I talk?”

  Annie squinted, staring at Punk’s nose. “Do it again.”

  Punk rolled her eyes. “Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious .”

  “Oh, hey. You’re right, it does. It’s kinda cute actually. Like a little baby bunny.” Annie grinned.

  “Are you shitting me right now?”

  “No! It really does go up and down. I can’t believe I never noticed it before.”

  Surge did something to the grill causing it to roar. “Shit. Diz, hand me that plate.”

  Punk watched him handle the food, moving things around on the grill to make room for more. The flames sprouted from the burner, but he didn’t flinch when they grew. He calmly moved the food until it was out of the way of the direct fire.

  He didn’t show any sign that he’d lived through the trauma of a fire. How did he manage it? Maybe he was all pretty on the outside but still a raging mess inside.

  Like her. By all appearances she was strong, but like Beast said, she was still so frightened. Her heart and soul were still held prisoner.

  Punk narrowed her eyes on Surge, noticing something that sent chills down her spine.

  “Hey.”

  “Yeah,” he said, distracted.

  “What happened to your wounds?”

  He laughed nervously. “What are you talking about?”

  Diz turned away from the track, interested in the conversation.

  “Your wounds,” she snapped. “The ones I gave you just hours ago. The broken nose. The black eyes. Sound familiar? You should be limping right now. Not standing here cooking food like you’re at one hundred percent.”

  He gave an uncomfortable chuckle. “I’m tough. What can I say. It doesn’t hurt that bad.”

  Punk narrowed her eyes. “Bullshit.”

  Annie turned to them, frowning. “What are you talking about? Did you hit him?” she asked, horrified.

  Punk adjusted her crutches so she could stand taller. “Just a little.”

  “Punk!” Annie’s hands flew to her hips. Damn. That was never a good thing. She was all sweet and shit, but if you made her mad she was like a rabid little fury.

  “What? He touched me.”

  Surge cleared his throat. “I was trying to help her to the couch.”

  “You’re supposed to say ‘thank you’ when someone helps you, Punk, not hit them,” Annie chided.

  “Yeah,” Surge agreed, nodding.

  Punk glared at him, and Drake burst out a laugh.

  Annie came and stood between Punk and Surge, settling her hand on his back and rubbing like the little mother hen she was. “Did you at least say sorry?” she snapped.

  Punk rolled her eyes. “No.”

  “Well? What do you say, Punk?” She leaned her head against his arm and he rested his head on top of hers, sticking his bottom lip out in a pout.

  “Are you kidding?” Punk scoffed. “He’s apparently not even hurt.”

  From out of nowhere, Blister appeared, looking pretty much like he’d just rolled out of bed. Except from what Ella said, her uncle didn’t have a bed. He lived in a tent on the back of the property. He wore ragged jeans and a t-shirt, and his feet were bare. His breathing was heavy and angry. He looked like he was about to eat someone live. Specifically, Surge.

  Blister glared at the back of his head. “I’m driving next,” he growled.

  Annie and Surge split apart as if they were clouds and Blister’s voice was lightning.

  “Oh, hey bro.” Surge held his hand in the air to slap Blister a high five.

  But Blister didn’t return it. His eyes became slivers, the scarred one, crinkling and distorting his face even more.

  The roar of Beast on the track brought everyone’s attention away from whatever conflict was about to unfold.

  Punk watched as he pulled the same move Ella had, but one-upped her by adding two more turns.

  Diz jumped in the air, hooting before he pointed a finger in Ella’s face. “You’re out! Out, out, out!”

  She smirked, flipping her middle finger at him.

  Beast was grinning as he traded places with Blister. She watched him stalk back to the patio, a little swagger in his step, and couldn’t help smiling. He made her heart pitter patter like the drum line of some fucking club remix. Her reaction to him was ridiculous. But it also gave her hope.

  Until Beast, she’d never thought she could have feelings for a man again. She assumed she was destined to never trust, never love, never have a family or a future. No children to tell about her Nana. No partner to grow old with. She’d even convinced herself she didn’t want those things. That they were extra, and just living and having friends like Ella and Annie was enough.

  But was it? It didn’t seem like enough now. It felt like there could be more for her.

  “That grin on your face because you get to eat that giant steak? Or is it there for some other reason?” he asked when he reached her.

  “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

  One eyebrow arched. “I very much would.”

  “You haven’t won it yet,” Surge reminded. “Blister’s running and he seems pretty determined.”

  Surge was right, and Blister wasn’t wasting any time playing either. He zoomed down the straight faster than Ella had, took the first turn, and then gained even more speed on the final straight. But he didn’t slow down much on the curve. In fact, he drove through it, coming halfway back down the straight. Jerking the wheel, he spun a tight circle in the center of the oval, spraying a waterfall of dirt. But he wasn’t done. He whipped the car around, making a figure eight, and ending with another circle of raining dirt.
r />   “Son of a bitch,” Beast muttered.

  Surge laughed in that way she was coming to realize was unique to him. Slightly crazed. Hyena-esque.

  “I give,” he snickered. “I’m not even gonna try to beat that. Shiiiit.”

  Blister stalked toward them, staring at the ground as he walked.

  “We’re all in agreement,” Surge told him. “You win, bro. The biggest steak is yours.”

  “Give it to her,” Blister grumbled, tossing his arm in Annie’s direction and not stopping as he walked past them into the dark.

  Beast frowned, staring after him. “What’s gotten into him?”

  Drake and Diz shook their heads.

  “Alright then,” Annie said brightly, clapping her hands together. “Let’s eat, shall we?”

  ***

  Five days. Five fucking days since Punk moved in. Five days of working with her in the shop. Five days of smelling her sweet, sweet scent and not being able to run his nose along her smooth skin. Five days of watching her nose wiggle when she went to town on him for the condition of the club’s filing system. Five days of brushing up against her to get to his tools or to answer the phone or…

  It was getting to him.

  Patience? What fucking patience? He had none anymore. Could he really only make it five days with his mate in proximity before he lost his ever loving mind?

  Beast tossed his wrench aside, and drew in a deep breath. Working on his car was supposed to keep him busy. It was supposed to ease his mind, help him relax. But it wasn’t working. He could hear Punk through the thin swinging door singing the words to a Beastie Boys song. She was all off key and shit, and all he could think of was marching into that shop and kissing her so she’d shut up. He’d use any excuse to finally get a taste of her.

  He paced the length of the garage.

  Maybe if he just touched her for a minute. Maybe it would be enough to calm his wolf. It worked before.

  Beast pushed through the door, stepping into the shop. Punk didn’t look up. Head bent, she was pouring over a pile of papers.

  “What do you want?” she murmured. Her curious tone was sexy but she probably didn’t even know it.

  To bend you over the hood of my car and fuck you senseless until you scream my name loud enough for everyone to hear. Until they know you’re mine. Until you know it.

  “I heard the sound of something dying in here and I needed to make sure it wasn’t you.”

  Finally she glanced up from her work, pursing her lips while she took him in. Her eyes started from his head and traveled down before coming back up to meet his gaze.

  “It just so happens that I was using my hideous singing abilities to draw you in here. You know, like a siren.”

  “Ah.” Beast leaned across the counter, invading her space to get closer to her. “So you were trying to lure me to my death?”

  “Not exactly.” He watched her lips curve in a grin and tried not to drool. Damn if she didn’t have lips like a sweet dream. “I was hoping to convince you to go get lunch.”

  Beast relaxed. She had needs. Needs he could meet without sending her running.

  “My girl’s hungry, huh? That’s what all that warbling was for?”

  “Your girl? I’m your girl now?”

  He didn’t like the skepticism in her tone.

  “Damn straight.”

  Her gaze fell back to her stack of papers, her lips twisting in contemplation. “And what if I don’t want to be your girl?”

  “Don’t say that,” he growled. She was just playing. She had to be. But just hearing her say those dreaded words left his chest feeling like it’d been cracked open wide. He ground his molars against the wave of pain while his wolf clawed at him in panic.

  “But… what if?” she mused. Did she have any idea how cruel she was being?

  “I’d have to change your mind.”

  Her gaze flashed to him. “How would you do that?”

  After five days, five late night chats and a Walking Dead marathon, five days of shared meals, five days of him sleeping on the couch in the big house because he couldn’t stand the thought of sleeping in his trailer without her… after five days, he felt like they’d gotten to know each other well enough that he could touch her without worrying about ruining things.

  Slowly, he reached forward to brush his thumb over her cheek. He watched as the soft skin turned pink under his touch, and he let her reaction calm him. Her words weren’t just cruel teasing, he could see that now in the way her gaze fluttered nervously away.

  She was still measuring him as a threat. She wanted to know how he’d change her mind because she wondered if he’d force his way into her heart.

  The answer was never. No matter if she was his mate or not, he’d never make her do anything she didn’t want to do. Including love him.

  “One of these days, Punk baby, you’re going to let me show you how much I care about you. And you won’t question it. You won’t second guess it. It’ll be mind blowing. The kind of thing where your heart and soul merges with someone else’s, and it’s for good. Everlasting. But there’s something you can be sure of.” He tilted her face up so his eyes were level with hers. “It won’t happen until you’re ready. Until you let me.”

  Her eyes were sad. “What if I can never let you?”

  “I’ll wait. I’ll wait forever. I’ll die waiting, holding your hand and watching you sleep. If that’s all I get, fine, I’m gonna hold the hell out of your hand.”

  There was so much emotion in her expression. Her breath came in stilted pants through her slightly parted lips. Did she believe him?

  Without warning, Punk leaned forward, pressing her eager lips to his.

  Time stood still for a moment as Beast got his first taste of his mate. Her lips were unbelievably soft, contrasting with the hard metal ring that bit into his. She was everything good and perfect and sweet, packaged as a fire cracker. She was scarred and hurt, yet still hopeful. She was everything. Fucking everything.

  Like a dam was lifted, time started moving again, rushing forward in a waterfall that had no hope of being contained.

  Beast’s hand went around the back of her neck to keep their connection while his arm shot out, knocking everything off the counter in one sweep. A growl rumbled the back of his throat and he came across the counter, straddling her legs and the stool she sat on. He took her face firmly in both hands and pried her mouth open with his lips.

  He was going to kiss the fuck out of her.

  What if this was it? What if this was all he ever got? He wanted to make her feel everything he felt through this one kiss. He needed her to know, when this was all over, that she was his. Whether she ever gave him a chance or not. Whether he ever marked her or not. Whether they had a future or not. She had to know.

  His tongue dove in, tasting the tangy sweet flavor of her mouth. Fucking bliss. Her tongue playing against his tentatively revved him up even more, and he pushed in harder, taking her in the only way he could. She’d given him this permission. Like with the hands. This was his now, and he was going to use it to make her feel loved.

  The more he worshipped her lips, the more frantically she kissed him until her hands tangled in his dreads at the nape of his neck. The slight pain was delicious. She was losing control under his attention.

  Mine. My female. My beautiful female.

  She’d be his from this point on whether she wanted him for herself or not. No other woman would ever catch his eye. Just her. Punk. His.

  She clung to him, and he realized he’d pushed her back so far she was barely on the stool. He broke away to stare into her eyes. Hovering above her, holding her in place, he tried to read her reaction. Her breath came in heavy gasps. There was no smirk, no hint of sarcasm.

  And then he noticed the change in her scent.

  His eyes rolled back in his head as he grappled for control. She was aroused. It was the first time he’d smelled it since they’d met. She’d never responded to him like this befo
re. And she needed him. God, she needed him to take care of her. But was she ready for that?

  “You okay?” He barely got the words out. His wolf wanted to act, not talk.

  “Are you?” she breathed.

  His breath rushed in and out of his chest. “No. I want to touch you. Kiss you. All over. Everywhere. But I meant what I said.”

  She squeezed her eyes closed and her scent swirled around him, taking all his air. He tilted her head so he could have access to her delectable neck. He pressed his lips gently against her skin, breathing deep to imprint her scent. His tongue darted out to trail along her jaw. He would go crazy with lust for her like this.

  “I want that too.” Her voice broke, and that was what snapped the leash on his control.

  He lifted her from the stool to straddle his waist and walked with her around the counter. They needed more privacy. Diz stayed in the apartment above the shop and Beast couldn’t chance him seeing Punk exposed.

  “Beast,” she breathed, her eyes looking worried.

  “Shh,” he soothed.

  There was nothing to worry about. He was going to take such good care of her. Everything was going to be fine. Better than fine. He was going to love her so good she’d never worry about a thing again.

  He pushed through the door to the garage, trying to ignore how his erection brushed against her ass with each step.

  Patience, wolf. Patience.

  He set her down on the hood of his car, thankful it was one of the first things he’d repaired after the wreck. He found her lips again, kissing more leisurely this time, savoring, sucking on that bottom one like he’d promised.

  He pulled back to lift his shirt over his head, tossing it aside. He wanted her hands touching skin not cotton. He peeled her tank off next, revealing the body he’d been dreaming about for days now. Her stomach was flat and lean. Her breasts, small but perfect for his hands, were covered in a black lacy bra.

  His fingers brushed a trail across her neck and down the center of her chest, lingering over the fabric. He contemplated what to do, how he wanted to reveal the treasure beneath. He decided he didn’t want to wait.