Page 11 of Challenge Me

“You need to prove you can handle me, little Hellcat.”

Goddamn it.

I nearly purred. Me! Actually losing control, betrayed by my own body. I was ashamed of how much the pet name affected me. One moment I was in control, and the next, I was almost moaning for him to call me that again.

Ghost’s hand closed around my thigh and pulled me closer.

I let him.

“Let’s find out if I can, then,” I said, because if I was losing control, I would at least have the decency to make it sound intentional.

I unbuttoned my shirt with hands that were not as steady as I would have liked. My fingers slipped lower, fighting with the stubborn gold latch of my belt. The moment it unclipped, Ghost moved like he had been waiting for the sound.

The leather beneath me was warm.

His mouth was at my neck.

His lips dragged over my skin, trailing kisses up toward my jaw, each one making it harder to remember why I pretended I wasn’t dying for him to touch me. By the time his mouth found mine again, we were sharing breath. His tongue clashed against my own, and the engine answered beneath us with a low, pleased growl that vibrated through the seat and straight into my bones.

I was beginning to doubt my previous confidence; handling implied control, and I was not controlling a damn thing. I was a mess beneath him. My body arched, shifting, asking before my pride could stop it. Kisses were not enough. His weight against me was not enough.

I wanted more.

The realization was humiliating. The wanting was worse.

“Please,” I breathed.

Then again, because apparently I had no self-respect left to salvage, “Please.”

Me. Begging. The thought alone was preposterous, but thinking had become difficult under the circumstances.

I was no better than Al.

The laugh that escaped me broke into a moan as Ghost pressed closer. It took me a few moments to finally suck in a breath as my body stiffened against him. I looked down at the shadow pushing my thighs apart, holding me still as he sank his dark cock deep inside me. My body gave no resistance, barely registering the intrusion. I couldn’t even comprehend the sensation, full far beyond what my body could take. Ghost and I were connected on a deeper level, his hips sinking into mine, shadow melting into flesh. Ghost had found every hollow place inside me, every silence, every locked room, every part of myself I had starved in the name of control, and filled it with heat, motion, and the thunder of an engine.

I threw my head back, fingers digging into his broad shoulders. He leaned over me, and it felt like being crushed beneath a thousand pounds of steel.

It should have been unbearable.

It was.

It was also magnificent.

Each breath I took was forced back out of me by the rhythm of him. My body tightened around him, pinned against warm leather, the scent of gasoline and old vinyl and night air turning dizzyingly sweet. Ghost moved with steady confidence. He wasn’t desperate to impress; he knew me like he knew the road, naturally and effortlessly, reading my gasps and moans like a map.

Is that what Al meant when he said he belonged in Fox?

The thought came uninvited and absurd.

Then Ghost shifted, and my back arched hard enough to make the leather creak.

Yes.

Gods, yes.

I understood.

Because soon, movement alone was not enough. I wanted more. I wanted speed. I wanted to smell gasoline as if it were in my blood. I wanted the wind rolling over my frame, my tires biting into the road.