The Initiation (Filthy Rich Americans 1)

“I see what you mean,” he said abruptly. “It’s nice.”

He subtly relaxed his grip on the steering wheel but kept his hands at ten-and-two. We weren’t going very fast as he navigated the curves and gently slalomed through the forest. I smiled. “I thought you’d like it.”

He took his gaze off the road for a second, and when he turned his head to look at me and smile, his hands followed, moving slightly to the right.

The road was narrow. A single strip of white paint outlined the edge of the pavement, and there wasn’t a shoulder. Only some gravel and grassy weeds. The car drifted just enough to edge off the pavement, crunching rocks and earth noisily under the tires.

“Shit!” Royce’s focus snapped back to the road and he jerked the wheel.

But he overcompensated, and we swerved into the oncoming lane. No one was coming—the road had been empty the whole time we’d been on it—but we were at the base of a steep hill and couldn’t see what lay ahead. He yanked the steering wheel back the other direction, once again with too much aggression, and the tires dipped off the road a second time.

I punched the nonexistent brake in the passenger seat with my foot, wanting to slow us down, and Royce must have had the same thought. Only in his panic, he pushed the wrong pedal and the car lurched forward.

The engine screamed as he slammed his foot on the accelerator.

My hands flew out, bracing myself in my seat. “Brake!”

He twisted the wheel wildly as we bounced further off the road, the nose of the car pointed straight for a line of trees that looked like they’d been there a hundred years. Tires churned on the uneven ground, and we swung wildly back toward the road.

“Brake!” I yelled again. We shot across the pavement in a blink and were on the other side of the road, barreling toward a deep ditch. Oh, God. I shut my eyes and held my breath, preparing for impact.

But abruptly, the car turned. It rumbled to a shuddering stop like it was on a hook being pulled the opposite direction.

He’d finally found the brake.

I heard the gearshift move as he put the car into park. It was silent except for the music wafting from the stereo, which was slow and smooth in stark contrast to the pulse hammering in my body.

Air burst from my lungs as I opened my eyes. We were sitting on a grassy bank beside the creek, facing the opposite way we’d been driving and on the other side of the road. My Porsche seemed to have survived unscathed, we were all right, and to anyone who passed by, it would probably appear like we’d intentionally pulled off the road to park here.

Royce didn’t look at me. He turned the engine off, pushed open his door, and climbed out. Was he running away? Where the fuck was he going? My seatbelt was made of concrete and weighed me down. I couldn’t move. I sat dumbfounded as he disappeared behind the back of the SUV.

A shadow fell across me and then my door was tugged open, bringing in cool air and the scent of the woods. I lifted my gaze to stare up at him. He had one hand on the door frame and the other on the roof, trapping me in. His face was streaked with worry. “Are you all right?”

I blinked. “I’m fine. Are you?”

“I’m fucking embarrassed.” He sucked in a deep breath as he stepped back. “I could have killed us.”

Since it no longer weighed anything, I undid my seatbelt and stood, my knees wobbling. “We’re okay.”

I’d disliked him for so long, and now everything was upside-down. His eyes were full of shame and his lips twisted downward in a frown, and I hated the way it looked on him. I even preferred the cocky version he pretended to be over this.

“You did pretty good up until the end, there,” I said, desperate to relieve the tension, “but maybe don’t fire your driver.”

A faint smile warmed his lips. “Do you want to know what my final thought was when we were headed for that creek?”

Please say something sexy. Because my heart was still racing, and adrenaline filled my bloodstream. “What was it?”

“That this is all your fault.”

My mouth dropped open. “My fault?”

The heat in his eyes was the only hint he wasn’t being serious. Or perhaps he wasn’t talking about the near crash but was accusing me of something else. I didn’t get time to think about it. He used one strong hand to grip my waist and pull my body crashing into him, and the other to cradle my face, angling my head so he could claim my lips.

Our last kiss had been restrained since we were in his office in the middle of the work day. Now there was no one around to interrupt the intense, wild way he kissed me. His tongue pressed at the seam of my lips and demanded entrance, which I gave with a soft sigh. Warmth bloomed in my center and spread along my limbs, heating me to my toes and fingertips.