“Go,” Dax whispers right before I’m jolted back into my seat, the velocity holding me captive. Dirt and dust fly under our tires, the impact kicking up rocks as we go. I glance at Dax, whose face is granite, his focus entirely on the race. Everything in front of me blurs. I see flashes of red taillights every now and then. The track seems to run on forever, becoming part of the surrounding desert. The sky is a blanket of stars that kisses the land. Butterflies swirl in my stomach with every curve and spin of the tires around me. I can feel the allure of the race, the way it pulls and tightens in my chest. It feels like the race goes on forever while, at the same time, it’s not long enough. We cross the finish line, taking the race, and Dax kicks down a doughnut before we come to a complete stop. The car is bombarded with cheering fans.
“Well?” he asks, tilting his head at me.
I grin. “I’ll see you in Vegas,” I tell him, before extending my business card with a date and time written on the back. He nods and pockets it.
I climb out, the crowd parting for me, before swarming back around. Dax drives slowly back to his starting point, taking the people with him. I’m so caught up in the antics around me that when my arm is grabbed in a brutal grip, I jump.
“Are you crazy?” Trent growls, his face a millimeter from mine, so close I can smell the mint of his gum and the faint musk of his body wash. I’m about to open my mouth and argue with him, but he’s already half-carrying, half-propelling me through the rest of the crowd, and back toward where the walking path of The Point starts.
“Stop dragging me.” I yank down on my arm, hard. Trent stops, turning to look at me. Jaw locked, he bends down suddenly, and hooks his hands over my waist, before tossing me over his shoulder.
“Trent!” I call his name, my fists balling against his back. I feel a quick swat on my ass, and I push myself up. “Ow! Fuck you.”
He keeps walking until we get to the other side of The Point, away from the spectators, his car parked in the distance before he starts to lower me to the ground.
The minute my feet touch the ground, I use both hands to push him away from me. “What the hell? What’s wrong with you?”
“With me?” he clips out, getting back in my face. “You could have killed yourself. Do you know how many people were gunning for you both, knowing Daxton had a chick riding with him? That is not how we do things here. Everyone assumed you were his girl, and the best way to beat him would have been to try and take out your side.”
“No one even made it close to us,” I grit back, my eyes blazing. How dare he think I wouldn’t be able to handle myself or that I would pick a driver who didn’t know what he was doing?
“Only because Shepard knows what the fuck he’s doing. Anyone else, and you’d be dead, if not both of you.”
My chest rises and falls, while my eyes rake over him from head to toe. His hair is messy, like he’s been running his fingers through it all night. His hard chest is encased in an all-black t-shirt, hidden underneath a black riding jacket. Destroyed jeans hang low on his hips. Trent’s eyes are wild when they meet mine and I see a flicker of concern that makes my heart beat wildly in my rib cage. The adrenaline is still riding me hard, which is why I don’t even think twice before launching myself at him. My arms wind around his neck, right as his head dips down, my lips landing on his. On my tiptoes, I push myself into his body, fingers running over his hair, and hold him to me. I kiss him like I’m starving. Like he’s my favorite dessert that I’ve been deprived of for years. My teeth tug and pull at his bottom lip, before sucking it into my mouth, loving the taste of him. A moan escapes me when his tongue slides out to battle with mine, twisting and pushing.
I let my hands slide down over his cheeks, and lower to his chest, where his heart beats against my palms, before I grip his jacket and yank it down his arms. Trent shakes free, before bringing his hands back and settling them on my waist. His finger graze over the bare flesh below my crop top. The material around my waist loosens, and Trent’s hand slides in, fingers tracing over the material of my panties. I feel a frantic pull to be as close as I can to him. My hands grip the ends of his t-shirt and yank it upwards, baring his chest. His hands fall away while he grips the back and pulls it off over his head. My mouth waters when he steps back. Trent has filled out more over our years apart. His muscles are bigger, harder, and covered everywhere in tattoos. I want to drag my tongue over every line and design until I know the meaning of each one. My eyes dart up to meet his, and I can see the same hunger as my own. I push my pants down and step out of them. My skin heats under his gaze, making me feel bold enough to shed my top as well, until I’m naked in front of him, under the star-filled sky, in the desert heat, just the two of us in the clearing.
“Scar,” he rasps out, and I feel it. I feel his longing from the roots of my hair to the tips of my toes. I can hear the uncertainty twisted in there as well. If we cross this line tonight, it’s something I can’t turn back from tomorrow or brush off as a mistake. This is Trent and Scarlet, and I want Trent to love me. Reaching out, I unbutton his jeans and push them down his hips, raising my brow when I see that he’s wearing nothing underneath. His hands grip my shoulders while I hold his gaze, before kneeling before him. I hear his intake of breath while my hand strokes his length, admiring these changes too. He’s longer, harder, the veins angry looking while angled right at my face. I tentatively reach out with my tongue and trace a pattern over the silky shaft down to the tip. Trent lets out a groan and I fight back a smile, before sliding his perfect dick between my lips. I run my tongue over the smooth head, opening a little wider to take him deeper.
“Fuck,” he mumbles above me, while his hands reach down to tangle in my hair, pulling hard enough that my scalp stings, but it’s not unpleasant. Giving him pleasure is turning me on. I continue to suck, finding a rhythm that works. Trent’s hips flex and move while he fucks my face and I love it. Tears gather on my eyelids when he goes so deep that I almost can’t breathe, but I don’t stop him. If anything, it just makes me grip him tighter.
“Scar,” he says in warning, and starts to pull his hips away, but I don’t let him. My nails dig into his thigh and I hollow my cheeks, sucking him back in. Trent groans low in his throat, the sound almost animalistic while he pumps three more times before coming down the back of my throat.
He comes out of my mouth with a pop, and I use my fingers to wipe my lips. My chest is heaving, sucking down air, and Trent is just as out of sorts as I am. “Lie down and open your legs,” he rasps out, his voice like gravel. I follow his direction, and lie back on our pile of discarded clothes. I watch as he steps out of his jeans and prowls toward me, as if he’s ready to feast and I’m his meal. Trent settles his body between my legs, and props himself up on his forearms. Our eyes meet, and for the first time since I’ve been back, his gaze is soft and warm. I can see heat dancing in the ocean blue depths and I want to bathe in it. Grabbing a fistful of his hair, I bring his head down to mine, my lips grazing his and kissing lightly. He lets me for a few seconds before taking over the kiss. Trent’s lips are brutal against mine, forcing my head backwards, until I arch against him. His tongue dips in and out until I squirm beneath him, trying to get as close as possible. Trent kisses over my jaw and down my neck, sucking the skin beneath my ear where I’m most sensitive, until I’m gasping and panting. He moves lower, tongue and lips caressing my skin while he palms my breasts in his giant hands. My hips buck against him when he sucks a nipple between his lips, rolling it around and biting lightly before releasing it with a pop and moving to the next one.