And she’d leave every last inch of the space every bit as touched as it had been before she made it hers.
“No witnesses. See? I called it, you’re scared,” she panted out the words, her voice taunting me.
I backed her up to the wall never letting go of her jaw. “Shut up.”
“Make me.”
I crushed my mouth to hers, the kiss every bit as raw and punishing as it was seductive. I plundered the warm places behind her plump lips. My hands spread over each side of her head, my fingertips spearing into her hair, holding her under me, giving her no escape.
I took and took, stealing her breath for my own, exploiting her willing mouth.
I needed her to steal it back. To be selfish. To push me away. Anything.
As long as she didn’t give.
Don’t give one damn part of yourself to me.
She reached for me then, a low groan rumbling in her throat. My jacket slid from her shoulders as her palms crawled up my chest, burning a trail along the way as though she had her hands on my bare skin.
Her fingers plunged into my hair, breaking the hold I had on her, her nails scraping my scalp, pulling me in until I didn’t know if I was the one wielding the power anymore.
“You want a confession, Mayhem?” I said as I tore my mouth from hers and dragged my lips along the curve of her jaw, to the soft spot just behind her ear.
“Yeah, I’m scared,” I admitted, biting the soft flesh of her neck, making her hiss.
“Of this.” I licked her skin, memorizing her taste, making her gasp.
“Of you.” I dragged my teeth over the rise of her collarbone, the sound of her jagged breath echoing in my head.
“Of me.” Dragging her sweater lower, I pressed a series of hot kisses over the curve of her shoulder, her fingernails carving into my skin as she sank her fingertips deeper into my muscles.
“Of what this thing between us will unleash,” I said as I returned to her wet mouth. Her eyes fluttered closed and I swallowed the moan that slipped from her lips.
I seduced us both with hot, deep glides of my tongue along hers. Pinning her to the wall with every grind of my hips against her belly, my cock desperately tried to soothe an impossible ache. My hands traced over the skin underneath her sweater, my thumbs finding the curved undersides of her breasts.
I glided my thumbs back and forth, afraid to go further, mustering a shred of willpower so I didn’t haul her up the stairs and plunder inside her the way my body demanded.
The soft sound of her sigh whispered through me as the fight shifted and changed.
As I handed her the power to my surrender, praying she wouldn’t use it against me.
“I need you,” she confessed in a broken whisper against my mouth. “Please. These kids won’t have anywhere to go. I won’t have anywhere left to go.”
She tore her mouth away and dropped her forehead to my chest, her words muffled, but no less desolate. “Don’t you get it? Crossroads saved me when my mom died. It still saves me in a town where I have no roots. No family. Nothing of my own. And nowhere in this world to go.”
Her words twisted into my heart and echoed there. There was no way out. No right choice.
“Dammit,” I said quietly as I wrapped my arms around her to keep her warm.
To keep me warm.
To hold on as our lives collided and everything spiraled out of control.
Pressing my lips to the top of her head, my heart slammed against my ribs—not with the lust building between us that finally bubbled over, but with dread.
Cold, hard, sharp barbs hooking into tender flesh dread.
“Does that mean yes?” she asked, her arms tightening around me and her fingers curling into the back of my sweater.
“Yeah.” I sighed and nodded against the top of her head. “Yeah.”
She let out a shuttering breath, relaxing in my arms.
Time to let go.
But I didn’t. I couldn’t. Instead, my hand defied the logic in my head and curled under her hair, cradling her in my palm while I kissed her temple and breathed in her sweet scent.
She turned her face into me, her lips right there, hovering just a breath away from mine. “One more thing.”
“What?” I whispered as I traced her bottom lip with my thumb.
She sighed over my skin and I forgot to breathe. “If you’re not the enemy and we’re not friends…what is this?”
I laughed, the sound completely devoid of any humor as a lump of fear lodged in my chest right by the part of my heart she’d manage to grip in her tight little fist without knowing it. I brushed her lips with mine, lingering there, not knowing when I’d have her in my arms again.
If I’d have her in my arms again.
I found her lust-filled eyes and held her unfocused stare. “Post-apocalyptic Galloway Bay in the making. Without a doubt.”
13
Two days passed since that night at Banked Track.
Since the kiss I could still taste even now.
Since I caved.
I caved so fucking hard.
While Mayhem convinced her team to put their trust in me, I’d been gathering every last bit of information I’d need, starting with thick stacks of session plans both for flat track and banked track derby I hadn’t laid eyes on in ten years.
I hardly used them at the time. I didn’t need to. I’d been so immersed in the sport, the components of the game moved like fluid pieces in my head, shifting and changing with new circumstances.
Between playing banked track on my own and coaching flat track, I could easily shift from one to the other.
But a decade had passed since then. Rules changed. Requirements changed. As I stared out at the sea of notes scattered across my grandmother’s dining room table,
