Wreck Me (Corrupt Legacy Series #2)

“Did you have your fill?” She puts one hand on her waist.

“Never.”

She makes a pirouette and lands in my arms, where she belongs. The only rational explanation for this familiarity is that I was made for her. I cup the back of her neck and pull her to me. Crushing my lips to hers, I kiss her, pouring into it every fantastic and terrifying feeling she ignites in me.

She parts her lips, feeding me her moans, her sweet flavor invading my tastebuds. That tongue of hers tangling with mine in a maddening rhythm that always has me wanting more. And now, I’m hard, but that’s nothing new in her presence. I adjust myself in my pants, and she giggles, loving the effect she has on me—a smart and cruel woman who I am smitten and obsessed with.

We walk outside, keeping a bit of distance between us until we reach my car.

I open the door for her, and she steps inside, her face serene—at ease.

She fires off one question after the other on the drive to the nearby track. I stop in front of the gates, and after I give my name to the security guy, he lets me pass.

My father surprised me by sending my race car to see how the new paint job looks.

Walking into the garage, her mouth opens as she rushes to my car and glides her finger over the design.

It looks incredible. The flames and the human form emerging from them, as if the flames themselves bring him to life. It’s just like in her painting. But nothing surpasses the sight of my girl next to my car. Potent emotions claw at my chest as I watch, mesmerized by my two favorite things together.

Her fingers halt on her initial, and I rock back and forth, suddenly nervous.

“This is the most thoughtful thing someone has ever done for me. You’re making it impossible to get over you.”

“Good, because it’s the same for me.”

After changing into my race suit and putting on my helmet, I get situated in my seat and watch her as she takes in all the design elements. I want to put her on the hood and show her—in every way—how serious I am when it comes to what I feel for her. I’m burning from the inside out for her.

Peter, one of the mechanics on my crew, approaches me, and he glances at Abigail standing beside my car. “The things we do to impress our ladies.”

I nod. Not even trying to deny it.

I look at her, excitement shining in her eyes. “Head on up to the bleachers.”

She quickly scurries away, and I start the engine then make my way over to the circuit, increasing my speed until reaching the track, hit the maximum speed and hold it, switching gears. All that horsepower rumbles under my ass, gluing my back to the seat while I stare ahead. When a sharp curve comes, I focus on completing the lap, my reflexes kicking in, everything in me knowing exactly what to do. And that—coupled with the high I experience—makes me ecstatic.

I got this. This is what I was born to do. The faster I drive, the more shackles snap open, one after the other, freeing me.

By the time the hour is up, I am sweaty. Getting out, Peter hands me a Gatorade and I hand him my helmet. He then gets in the car and drives it back to the garage. I stare at it longingly, but it won’t be long until I am reunited with my green and orange beast.

Abigail runs toward me and says, “Wow,” every few seconds.

“When will you do it again?”

A laugh erupts from my throat. “I should resume my training, so…”

“You were made for this.” She jumps into my arms. “You were so in control.”

“So, you weren’t scared for me?”

“I will always be afraid when I see you race. But the pride and knowing you’re doing what you love most will outweigh that. I will kick your ass if you don’t come back to me.”

“I will always come back to you.”

“Swear it. Swear it, own it, and respect it.”

Her chin wobbles, as if my words will make everything right.

“I swear it. I’ll always find my way back to you.”