Page 113 of Riding the Curve

The engine howls the higher I push it. Axel is inching closer in my rearview mirror, just as I manage to pass Maxton.

“Yes! Keep going, Em. One down. Now hold the line.”

Lap after lap, Axel and I inch forward and backward. Just like before, it comes down to the final lap. The adrenaline that courses through me, feels like tendrils of lightning tingling through my blood stream. It makes my heart thump at a tormenting pace.

It all comes down to the final curve.

Every thought, every fear, every worry goes still.

Only the growl of the engines fills the silence.

As we round the curve, I inhale a deep breath and imagine one thing, and one thing only.

Henley.

Our cars are dangerously close, and at any moment there’s a chance we could bump again. But I shift into a higher gear and begin to slide forward as we whip out of the turn. My car pulls in front.

I fucking did it.

Though we have a little bit of road left, I manage to box Axel out. When I cross the finish line, tears stream down my face.

Each tear washes away the hurt of the past. Paves the way for the bright future that is in front of me. The one with alluring hazel eyes and a heart of gold.

“Easy, easy!” I shout to my crew as they practically yank me out through my car window. I barely get my helmet and gloves off before I’m surrounded by the entire team. Champagne falls like rain all around us as I’m tossed into a sea of laughter and smiles.

And then the sea parts.

Before me stands my girlfriend, her wavy locks dripping with alcohol, and the most enchanting smile spread across her face. It’s like when the sun peeks through the thick clouds after a stormy day. A reminder that no matter how dark your life may seem, there is always light waiting to burst through and ignite you once more.

Henley is my light through the storm.

Tears glisten in her eyes as she runs and leaps straight into my arms. Wet lips collide with mine, and my body melts into her. Her taste hints of vanilla and spice.

But most of all, she tastes like mine.

The team hollers and whistles around us. Hen’s lips break away from mine as her infectious laughter fills the air—and my heart. I lean my forehead against hers and carry her away from the crowd.

“Em, where are we—” She breaks off giggling as I practically stumble my way through the pit tunnel until I find the door I want. Kicking open the stairwell, I carry us through the door then press her up against the wall.

She hums lightly into my mouth as I devour every inch of hers. Her fingers weave through my hair and her nails sting against my scalp.

“Em—”

“Hmm . . .”

Henley’s body arches into mine as I slip my palm underneath her shirt and run my fingers along her spine.

“Em—”

“Shhh . . .” I whisper quickly against her lips, pressing my hips against her. She whimpers, laying her head back against the wall. Trailing my mouth over the edge of her chin and down the slope of her neck, I feel her quickened pulse thump against my lips.

“Emerson.” She grabs a few locks of my hair and pulls. I know she’s trying to get my attention, but I’m too far gone.

“Yes, baby?” I smirk against the crook of her neck.

“We need to talk,” she laughs, still trying to tug at my hair.

“We are talking.” I suck her supple skin, and she sighs. Success.