Page 115 of Shade
I’m on the ramp, getting to do my run when they announce me. I start out with the kiss of death, forty-five off the ground. Then I do a bike flip followed by a superman. After adjusting the steering damper, I pull off a 360 midair all with no shirt on.
Am I upset I didn’t get to do the double backflip for her?
Yes, but I think going shirtless offered me some points with her, don’t you think?
Take a look at her face when I get back to the pit. It’s worth the injuries.
I can tell she’s a fan of the sport, and it’s fun to see this side of her, as well as having someone enthusiastic waiting for you. I don’t mean the pro hos either. They’re a dime a dozen. I mean this, the adrenaline in her blood telling her she’s witnessing something gnarly and disaster taunting. She sees it for what it is.
“Holy shit, that was sort of amazing.”
I wink. “Are you impressed?” I want to kiss her. Hell, I want to fuck her against my bike, but I shouldn’t. Something tells me she doesn’t want that.
“Definitely,” Scarlet notes.
I turn the bike off, kick the kickstand out, then swing a leg over to stand in front of her. “Want a ride?” She thinks I’m talking about me, and I am, but I’m also referring to my bike because she’s staring at it now. The way her eyes don’t lift, that right there tells me she’s not a pro ho. She’s impressed by my run, sure, but the bike holds interest too.
“Is that a pickup line?” Scarlet’s head tilts to the side as she studies me, her gaze lingering on my mouth.
I wipe my forearm over my forehead. “Only if you want it to be.”
I don’t know what she’s thinking, but I think it has something to do with my mouth on hers, or better yet, sucking on the nipples I can see poking through her tank top.
Stepping toward her, I lean in. Just a little so she feels the heat of my body next to hers. She stops breathing. “Not the rideyou’rereferring to, but someday I’d love to see what the fuss about these bikes is. And you should put a shirt on.”
“Make me,” I challenge. My cock stiffens, and I’m glad my riding pants conceal it. I’d gladly take her for a ride on my cock for sure, maybe even my race bike. I stand there, sweat pouring from me, and she’s smiling. Do I turn and walk away or do I ignore her and test my luck with theRockstar Energychicks? I can only take so much here.
Scarlet’s eyes drag to mine, and she fucking winks at me, stealing my sunglasses from my hand. She puts them on and leans in to whisper, “Nice try, but my answer is still no.”
What. The. Fuck?
Do you see the look on my face? Do you see the way my jaw clenches and my eyes narrow at her? I’m confused.
I want her. I want my sunglasses back too.
Mostly, I want to get to know her and figure out what the fuck her problem is with me. She’s our personal assistant, and I shouldn’t feel this way about her but I’ve also never been denied sex by someone I’m obsessing over.
I know what you’re thinking. Why her? Out of all the women trying to gain my attention since Rhya,why Scarlet Rose?
I’ve got a few answers for you. And they’re not in any particular order. . . or are they?
Men want what they can’t have. Simple fact here.
Her wild curls match her “fuck with me and I’ll shove my foot up your ass” attitude.
She doesn’t give two shits about me being a badass. She’ll still put me in my place.
And we like a challenge. Here’s an example for you. When I first did a double backflip at the X Games, it wasn’t because I wanted to. It’s difficult to pull off, and you need the right circumstances and the right setup to do the flip. If conditions aren’t perfect—right ramp, air time and a soft landing—the trick is incredibly dangerous. You can die.
So why’d I end up doing it in the X Games?
One, I wanted to win the gold, and with the tricks thrown there, you gotta bring your game. And two, fucking Reece wanted to rouse me a little and said, “I’m better than Shade any day, but that trick can’t be done.”
Excuse me? I don’t think so. I’d been doing it for months at home. I had yet to do it in competition, but the circumstances hadn’t been right at the last couple events for me to do it.
That’s how the double backflip got thrown in there. I sent him a text the day I heard he said that and said, “Game on, motherfucker,” or something similar to that.
I’d been so fired up because he somehow thought he was better than me that I was in the foam pit every day practicing the trick the month leading up to the X Games. When June came along and we were in LA for the X Games, Reece talked shit the whole time to ESPN trying to egg me on. Sure, we’re friends and he was doing it to rile me up, but I still didn’t find the humor in it.
