Page 96 of Handle Me

“You’re doing today’s lesson around the track,” he informed me, and we waited for the gate to open. My heart shot into my throat. He couldn’t be serious. I wasn’t really going to drive my car around a racing circuit my second day behind the wheel.

“Is that safe?” I blurted out, earning another laugh.

“Trust me. There is no better place to learn than on a closed course. It has room to teach you everything you need—and you won’t run over any pedestrians. You’ll be the only one out,” he said, reaching over and tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “Try not to hit any walls.”

“What about Brex?” I looked behind us, and the Range Rover was nowhere in sight.

“He knows where to find us.”

Why did I find myself hoping that wasn’t true? Maybe because this might be one of the last chances I had to have Anders all to myself. But that was dangerous thinking, the kind that would cost me my recently healed heart if I wasn’t careful.

I settled into my seat as the gates opened, and Anders pulled onto the track and parked.

“I don’t think I’m ready for this,” I admitted when he came around to help me out.

He paused for a moment, a battle raging in his sky-blue eyes. Then, he cupped my cheek softly. I melted against him. “You got this.”

“What if I don’t?” I asked, my voice edged with panic.

“I’ll be right next to you,” he promised.

I shouldn’t find that nearly as comforting as I did. That was the problem. Every second I spent with Anders proved to me I was wrong. My heart hadn’t healed. I’d only learned to live with the pain.

“Let’s do this.” I lifted my chin and marched to the driver’s side.

Anders slipped into the passenger seat as I checked my mirrors.

“You’re sure this is safe?” I asked, my finger poised above the ignition button.

“You aren’t racing. Just driving,” he soothed me. “And we can stop anytime.”

“Do I need a safe word?” I joked, immediately regretting it as memories hit me in full force.

His eyes flashed, but he wasn’t angry. Instead, he shifted in his seat. “Just keep your eyes on the road,” he said gruffly.

I did as he said, but out of the corner of my eye, I caught him adjusting his pants. It seemed I wasn’t the only one remembering the last time I’d needed a safe word.

“Deep breaths, boss,” he murmured.

I followed the advice as I placed my foot on the brake and started the car. He might have been right. The McLaren was a lot of car for a first-time driver. I took another deep breath and pressed my foot to the gas. We lurched forward.

“Easy,” he advised. “Take it nice and slow.”

Why did everything coming out of his mouth have to sound so pornographic? It wasn’t helping me concentrate.

I focused on the road ahead, but as soon as reached the first turn, I slammed on my brakes.

“Why did you do that?” he asked.

“I don’t know how to turn.”

Anders bit back a smile. “Yeah, you do. Don’t overthink it. As long as you remember where the brake pedal is, we’re golden.”

I nodded and started driving again, slowing down but not stopping when we reached the first turn.

“That’s it,” he crooned softly. “You’ve got this.”

His words of encouragement spurred me on, and before long, I was cruising around the track with ease. It felt like…freedom.