Page 129 of Shade
You think I’m possessive about a girl who won’t sleep with me, I’mworsewith my bike.
“Who is that kid?” I ask Ryder when the kid lands a Shaolin backflip.
“Lane Riley,” Ryder tells me. “He's a fucking badass, isn't he? He’s fucking thirteen years old and already won a pro motocross race at Red Bud.”
“What a douche,” I grumble, annoyed this kid’s showing me up tonight. “How the hell did he land that fuckin thing?”
Ryder laughs and nudges Scarlet who to my joy, hasn’t left my side all night. “Watch this, he’s about to show up this kid.”
Scarlet laughs but knows what I’m about to do when I get my other bike out. I don’t waste any time and do a series of flips, a cliffhanger, a dead body, couple fender grabs, a tsunami, but I end with a 360 spin and finally, a bike flip.
Everyone at the party is cheering because while I can show up pretty much anyone on a track, Tiller was out there with me doing each stunt right after me to put on a show under the lights.
The crowd around us cheers, Lane bows to me, and I ride up to Scarlet who’s grinning, pink cheeked, her hair tamed under Tiller’s baseball hat he was wearing earlier. I give a head nod. “Hey.”
She puts a hand on her hip, drinking a beer with the other. “I hate to say it, but that was impressive.”
I lean my elbows on the handlebars. “Why do youhateto say it?”
“Because you could have killed yourself.”
“Would you be sad?”
“Sure.”
“Why, because then you wouldn’t be able to have sex with me?”
“Oh my God.” She rolls her eyes and begins to walk away from me.
I’m not having it, so I ride up next to her, grab a handful of front brake, and then stop, causing the back tires to raise off the ground. “Come in the hot tub with me.”
She downs the rest of her beer. “Okay.”
Well, Christ, that was easy. Maybe she’s impressed enough she’ll have sex with me now.
“SO?” I SCOOT closer to her, bringing her on my lap. She’s drunk, and now I’m having second thoughts because the only reason she’s letting me put her on my lap in the hot tub is because she’s drunk. Intoxicated. As is, not thinking clearly. “You’re pretty lit, aren’t you?”
She takes my face in her palms, sharing my breath and making me taste her words, “Why do you care if I’m drunk. . . star boy?”
“Because I’m pretty sure, in your current state, I could just take advantage of you right now and you wouldn’t remember it in the morning.”
“Go ahead. But I’m not the one who won’t remember. It’s you.” What’s she talking about? Her grin takes over, my eyes drifting to her nipples and the hard-puckered nubs I so desperately want in my mouth. “If you’reupfor the challenge.”
I spin her around so she’s sitting on the bench in the hot tub, then I’m on my knees between her legs like we were in the kitchen earlier.
Her legs wrap around my waist, squeezing, her hands on my shoulders. Heat spreads throughout my body like a jolt of electricity. Looking at her now, she’d mind if I took advantage and I can’t do that to her.
And then she’s kissing me, giving me what I need as her mouth moves over mine. I know it’s what she wants, but we know she shouldn’t have. It’s tentative at first, gently parted lips and a slow, gradual build before my tongue sweeps over the seam of her lips. She tastes like peaches and whiskey, sweet and sinful all in one.
I knew looking at Scarlet she’d be an amazing kisser. Her kisses are alive as she is, sweet and savoring, like sweet tea on a hot day, never quite enough, but just enough to satisfy the tongue once she gives you a taste. It’s not enough because I wantsomuch more. I never want it to end.
I move my mouth to her neck, and she shivers under my hands, slow kisses over her sun-kissed and salty skin, heating it to degrees the sun can never reach. Holding her against the side of the hot tub, I’m in complete control, but then again, I’m not. She is.
I pull back, watching her reaction. “I feel bad for you,” I say when she’s staring at me, maybe deciding what happens next.
She touches her fingertips to her lips. “Why?” Her eyes find mine, and they seem honest, pure to the heart.
“Because in the morning, when you’re not drunk, you’re not going to remember any of this.”
“No.” She shakes her head, her voice a soft murmur. “I’ll remember this, tonight. All of it.” She touches my cheek. “Will you, though?”
Why does she keep saying things like that? Does she honestly think I could ever forget what she’s making me feel?
