Done staring at his beautiful and powerful body, I move away from the sill to stand at the foot of his bed. He continues reading. I remove my jacket and toss it aside. After toeing off my boots and pulling off my socks, I crawl up the bed, keeping the length of him between my arms and legs. I kiss the fresh wounds on his calf before sitting on his stomach. The flat surface is solid, supporting my weight like I’m not even there. My nipples pucker at the expectation of his impending touch. He never can ignore me for long. I take the book from his hands and set it aside on the nightstand beside a gold leaf lamp and several containers of salve he uses to keep his skin supple so the wounds don’t tear.
With a sigh, he leans his head back and closes his eye. “Why are you here, RC?” His gravelly voice bears a darker emotion than depression. It never fails to send delicious shivers down my spine. I’m tempted to lick his bottom lip, but I stay still. There’s time for carnal things. For now, I want to talk.
“Why do you keep cutting yourself?” I ask, bending down and running my lips along his ribs. I place open kisses there, licking at the wounds. Worshipping his body is a pastime I’ve grown accustomed to. He’s made me want him. And I curse him for it.
He touches his most prominent scar. “It takes the pain away.”
“Because you lost to Ace?” I take his hands and lead his callused fingers to curl around my waist. That alone is enough for goose bumps to pepper my skin. My fingertips trace the lines he’s placed on his body over the years. He collects scars the way people collect stamps.
“Why do you think I race Ace?” His one good eye opens.
The power of his silver stare steals my breath. “Because you want to be number one?”
I bounce against him when he laughs—a husky, sexy sound that reaches between my thighs. I bite on my lip to keep the moan in. I’m ready for him, and he hasn’t done anything yet. I refuse to put a label on our relationship. Bedlam leaves me free to see other people if I want to. I’ve given him the same courtesy, but as far as I know I’m the only one he allows into his home. I’ve never tried to understand his decisions. Like the wounds he inflicts to ease his pain, Bedlam’s touch eases some of mine. We connect on a level that both scares and fascinates me.
“That’s you, RC,” he says when he finally regains his composure.
“Then why?” I tilt my head to the side, regarding him with curiosity. He’s like a drug I can’t get enough of. He’s bad for me for all the right reasons.
Unflinching, he answers my question. “He’s the only one who can challenge me without dying for it.”
I should be hurt by this statement because between the lines he’s admitting I’m not enough of a challenge for him. But I’m not. That’s just how he is. Focused. Determined. And my brand of crazy. If I want him to acknowledge me on the IC course, I need to show him I’m just as much of a threat as Ace is. “At the last quarter of tonight’s race—”
“I pissed him off enough to actually try and get me to crash. It was glorious.”
Remember the pistons loose? Bedlam has a few more loose than most. It brings a dangerous thrill to my chest. The kind I need to forget all the stupidity of today. The chill that rises up my bare arms comes not from his words but from the ice in his eye when he said them. I give in to the urge to lick his bottom lip.
“Then Hubcap….” I hate that I suspect him, but I need to know. He’ll never lie to me. At least I think he won’t.
“What about him?” He runs his hand up from my hip to below the swell of my breast. His thumb brushes against the sensitive underside of the heavy mound. My nipples harden further—painful peaks straining against the fabric of my ribbed shirt.
I shudder in pleasure. Fighting the hitch in my breath, I counter his touch by rotating my hips counterclockwise against the growing hardness beneath me. His pupil dilates. He’s as turned on as I am. I’m panting, needing more. “You could have done it,” I insist while my wits are still semi-intact.
“And you think carving ‘hubris’ across his chest is my style?” He plants kisses along the column of my neck. I throw my head back to give him better access. “Apt that word. Hubcap ruffles many feathers among the Gathering. He made sure everyone knew he was tenth on the Index and was proud of that fact.”
Placing my hands on my heels behind me, I consider his words. The way he’s silently looking at me says I’m wrong to bring up Hubcap. Bedlam, despite his apparent insanity during a race, has always been my refuge, giving me solace when I sought it. Like tonight, when I feel like my whole world is changing beneath my feet. But more often than not, I also know he uses my body to relieve his inner pain when the cutting isn’t enough. That’s why I refuse to tell anyone about the time we spend together. Sometimes I wonder if I mean more to him than a hole he
