Page 26 of Broken Track
Tired of always letting the bitch win, I straighten, turning to Lisa with a slow, lethal smile. “Oh, I’m sure you give plenty of people a good time,” I say, my voice dripping with venom. “Speaking of, I saw you coming out of the woods with Joe earlier. What was that? Number five this month?” Lisa’s expression darkens, and I know I’ve got her right where I want her. I tilt my head, tapping my chin. “Tell me, Lisa, does the ER have a room for you and your crabs? I seriously want to know.”
The gathered crowd erupts into laughter. Lisa’s expression darkens, her hands curling into fists at her sides. She shifts her weight, and I see it the moment before she snaps. The way her lips part, her nostrils flare, her entire body coils like a snake ready to strike. I’m ready for it. I brace myself, and Lisa does not disappoint. She lunges at me, screaming. “You bitch!”
Xavier steps in front of me, his broad frame shielding me from her attack. “Watch it, Lisa,” he warns, his voice dangerously low.
I don’t need his protection. I step around him, toe to toe with Lisa. “I might be a bitch,” I say, my voice sharp, cutting, “but at least I don’t open my legs for any guy willing to give me five minutes of attention. Even the married ones.”
Lisa’s face twists in rage. My hands tremble. My heart pounds.Don’t do it, Izzy.
She sneers, lips parting to spit another insult, but before she can, my fist flies before I can stop it. The crack of my knuckles against her nose is deafening. Lisa screams, falling to the ground, clutching her bloody face.
Silence. Then, applause. Drivers, crew members, and even some fans standing around cheer like I won the damn race. Horror floods through me. I can’t breathe. The weight of a hundred stares presses against my skin, but it’s Xavier’s eyes that undo me. He’s looking at me like I handed him the damn world. Like I’m something to be worshiped.
I can’t be that girl. My breath stutters. I need to get out of here. Away from the cheers, the eyes, the thrill of it all still thrumming in my veins. My knuckles sting, my pulse pounds in my skull, and my stomach twists with something too tangled to name.
“I’m sorry, X.” My voice barely holds steady. I turn, bolting for my trailer. I don’t stop running until the noise fades, until I can lock the door behind me and press my forehead to the cool metal wall.
The adrenaline wears off in waves, leaving my limbs heavy as I load up my car. My hands won’t stop shaking. What the hell did I do? A familiar warmth presses against my back, strong arms wrapping around me. I stiffen but don’t pull away.
“Hey, sexy,” Xavier purrs in my ear. “Don’t worry about what happened. I took care of it. She won’t be bothering you again.”
I close my eyes, my heart hammering.What are we doing?
I turn in Xavier’s arms, and our bodies collide chest to chest, breath to breath. Too close. He smells like sweat, leather, and something darker. Something dangerous. His hand lifts, fingers skimming my jaw, tracing a path to a loose strand of hair. He tucks it behind my ear, slow and deliberate, like he’s memorizing the way it feels against his skin.
“What if this doesn’t work out?” My voice is barely above a whisper, my pulse thudding against his fingertips. His hand pushes a loose strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers grazing my cheek. His fingers slide down, resting at the hollow of my throat. I know he can feel my pulse, wild and erratic beneath his touch.
“You won’t lose me, Izzy.” Xavier’s voice is low and rough around the edges. “I don’t care how hard you try to run. I’ll be right here, catching you. I’ve waited a long time to feel you against me. To feel your curves under my hands.” His thumb brushes my hip, sending a shiver down my spine.
I swallow hard. He’s too much. Too cocky. Too charming. Too Xavier.
And yet, I don’t pull away. Don’t stop him. My body betrays me, drawn like a moth to an open flame. He smirks because he knows he’s winning. Knows I’m burning for him.
And the worst part? I think I want to burn.
Chapter Fourteen
Xavier
Ipull into Izzy’s driveway, my hands gripping the wheel tighter than necessary. Ten days. Ten days of sneaking into her room at night, holding her, kissing her, touching every inch of her, but stopping short. It’s been driving me insane, but I don’t complain. If waiting proves to Izzy she’s the only one I want, I’ll wait, no matter how much my body hates me for it.
The second I spot her in the garage, my heart stutters. Sunlight glints off her blonde hair as she wipes grease from her hands, her green eyes locking onto mine. Damn, she’s something else. A fighter, a racer, and the only girl who’s ever made me feel like more than another fast car and a cocky grin.
I climb out of my truck, pull off my sunglasses, and catch the way her gaze drops to the bulge in my jeans before skimming back up. That little hitch in her chest? Yeah, I saw it. I smirk as I walk toward her, feeling the heat of her stare.
“Are you ready?” I ask, watching her hesitate like she’s forgotten how to breathe. I chuckle under my breath and step closer. “Izzy, are you ready?”
Still nothing.
I wrap an arm around her shoulders and press a kiss to the top of her head, inhaling the familiar scent of motor oiland vanilla that clings to her skin. It unsettles me more than it should. Finally, she clears her throat and meets my gaze.
“Give me five minutes to change,” she says.
“Take ten,” I smirk, kissing her head again, then nudging her toward the house. I watch her walk away, shaking my head with a grin, before turning to Austin.
We talk about last weekend’s race while I wait. I can tell Izzy’s old man is proud but also wary. He knows what racing means to me. He also knows what his daughter means to me, even if he doesn’t outright say it.
When Izzy comes back, I swear my heart skips. She’s wearing a dark blue tank top, faded jeans, and her racing boots, with her blonde hair pulled into a quick ponytail. My throat dries, and I have to swallow hard. Damn.
