Page 78 of Crash Course

He unpacked his books, choosing a seat two down from mine in the same row—well outside of the ones the drivers normally occupy. “They’re not going to help with my next race.”

“So, it’s my brain you like.”

“Yeah, well, your mouth is annoying as hell.” His gaze flicked down. “I can’t stop thinking about it.”

My retort died on my lips.

When Professor Vogel came in and started the class, I turned toward the front, my cheeks burning and my body throbbing.

Since we hooked up, I’ve gone from fantasies and daydreams to a 24/7 private steam reel I can’t turn off.

If I was going to hook up with an Ashford, Theo would be the obvious choice. Evidently, I have the worst taste in guys, because all I see is his difficult, unyielding brother who shoved his way into my head and pushed all my buttons.

Wednesday, Jameson texts me and Megan to ask for a meeting in one of the garages on campus to start working on race strategy.

From the moment I walk in and our eyes lock, I’m trying to focus on the car and failing miserably.

We’re going over the setup, his hip near mine.

“Here, let me,” he murmurs when there’s a long reach to fix something. His gaze lands on my elbow, as if he knows it’s a strain.

“I’ve got it,” I insist. I’ve survived the last sixteen years without Jameson Ashford’s help, thank you very much.

“Stubborn.” He reaches for the ratchet, but I hold on.

“Capable,” I correct.

I should be worried about the wreckage of my life, but I can’t because for the first time in over a week, Jameson and I are pressed against each other.

It’s been way too long.

A breath shudders out. “About last week—”

“Yeah.” He answers before I’ve finished.

“It was a bad idea.”

He’s standing behind me. His body lines up with mine through our clothes, and I’m feeling every inch of him.

“You think it was a mistake.” His voice is quiet next to my ear.

“I didn’t say mistake. I said it was a bad idea.” The smell of motor oil fills the garage, but all I’m aware of his scent. Dark. Cool. Intoxicating.

“So you like bad ideas.”

I twist to meet his gaze, my breasts brushing his chest. “How do you know?”

Jameson’s gaze flicks down to my mouth, his dark lashes lowering over eyes that burn with intensity.

“Because you’re thinking about doing it again right now.”

His thumb slips under my shirt to rub torturous circles against my hip. A soft moan escapes my lips.

“You want me to zip-tie your driveshaft again, Ashford?” I manage, my eyes threatening to drift closed.

Jameson’s lips ghost my neck where a few hairs escape my messy bun. “Don’t make promises you won’t keep.”

Damn, he turns me on. I need his hand a little lower. His mouth too.