Her eyes flash with hunger and she catches her breath, making me painfully hard inside my jeans. Deciding to play the game, she strides toward me and shoves the helmet over her head before placing her delicate hand on my shoulder. She throws her leg over my bike and settles in behind me, her thighs pressed right up against mine.
I turn the key and the engine roars to life, making Bri yelp and throw her hands around me, clutching on for dear life. “You good?”
“If you kill me, I’m going to tell the whole fucking school that you suffer from premature ejaculation.”
A laugh rumbles through my chest, and without another word, I take off into the night, Bri’s hold getting tighter by the second.
I take the ride back to the track slower, wanting to savor this moment as long as possible, but despite riding slower than the speed limit, we arrive at the track way sooner than I’d hoped. There’s still half an hour before my race, and as I pull into the parking lot, I see the students of Bradford Private gaping toward us. I’m sure Bri probably assumes it’s because we’ve shown up together, whereas I know it’s because I’ve broken my one cardinal rule—no chick will ever ride with me, no matter what. But Brielle … fuck, she has me breaking all kinds of rules.
I don’t bother filling her in on the secret as I drive right through the property, passing through the parking lot and down into the crowd. They create a path for me just as I knew they would, and I don’t stop until I’ve crossed the track and pull onto the side where the boys and I usually chill.
Everyone is here and I know it’s going to be a night to remember.
Before I’ve even cut the engine, Riley is stepping in beside my bike and offering Bri his hand. “You couldn’t resist me after all,” he says. “I knew you’d come running.”
I knock his hand out of the way and send a scathing glare toward him. “Want another black eye?” I ask him. “You had your week, bro. She’s not interested.”
The dick grins back at me. “Afraid of a little competition?”
Bri scoffs and grips my shoulder as she climbs off my bike. “There is no competition,” she says, my chest filling with pride until she goes and shuts it down. “I’m not fucking either of you.”
And not a moment later, Arizona, Chanel, and Ilaria come bursting through the crowd and slam right into her, scooping her into their arms. “Is that you, Marjorie?” Arizona teases. “I didn’t recognize you without your sweater.”
They burst into laughter as the boys and I just stare. “Who the fuck is Marjorie?” Riley murmurs.
“I’ve got no idea.”
The girls start talking shit and press a drink into Bri’s hand, insisting she catch up, and within the space of three seconds, they’re rummaging through the back of Logan’s RAM, searching out the good shit. As they start doing shots of Fireball, I realize that maybe she was safer locked up in her ivory tower after all.
Jax shows up from who the hell knows where, a cocky, satisfied grin playing on his lips as he barrels into his brother, dropping his arm over his shoulder. “I’m racing tonight.”
“The hell you are,” Logan grunts. “You’re drunk.”
“Nah, I’ve only had like … five or nine.”
Logan rolls his eyes, his gaze falling toward Chanel as she laughs with the girls. “Exactly my point, man. Mom’s off fucking some billionaire Italian and Dad’s on a shoot, so I’m not being the one responsible for wiping your ass after you lose control of your car and need a full-time caretaker.”
“Don’t be such a little bitch,” Jax says, his grin widening. “We’ll obviously hire a fresh out of college caretaker with big tits who’ll sit on my dick every night. It’ll be romantic. A modern-day love story.”
Logan pushes his brother off him with a frustrated grunt before shaking his head and letting out a heavy breath. He’s more frustrated than usual, and his stare hasn’t left Chanel for even a second, and when he starts bouncing his shoulders, my brows fly up.
Riley gapes, seeing what I’m seeing. “Is he—”
“Doing his pregame mental pep talk bullshit he does before facing down our biggest rivals? He sure fucking is.”
“You don’t think he’ll—” Without a moment of hesitation, Logan takes off toward the group of girls, looking as though he’s about to shit himself. “Yup. He’s going in for the kill,” Riley says, the four of us watching with wide eyes.
Logan’s been working up to this very moment for twelve long months. He’s been with her plenty of times, not that any of her friends know. He’s got absolutely no issues when it comes to sex. They end up screwing at every party, but he’s never had the guts to tell her that he’s madly in love with her. They’re constantly at each other’s throats, and while it’s entertaining as hell, it kills him that he can’t have her in the way he wants.