Page 108 of Downforce

When Max takes my hand, I don’t pull away or look over my shoulder to see who might be around.

“If you just want to lose again,” I breezily say.

“You tricked me.” He comes to a full stop in front of me. His words hold no bite or bitterness. It’s difficult to pull my gaze away from his lips that are turned upward in a hint of a smile.

Max cups one side of my face and leans in, kissing away any thoughts of go-karts, rematches, or anything not related to how hot and welcoming his mouth feels.

I sigh into the kiss, and he deepens in.

Every part of my body hums in delighted warmth as if stepping out from beneath a tree’s shade on an early summer morning. The sun isn’t quite warm enough to burn you just yet, but its heat sends every cell tingling with an aliveness that wasn’t there a second ago.

“Losing might have its merits,” he says against my mouth.

Wrapping my hand around his wrist, I shake my head. “No.”

He pulls back a little, giving me a surprised look.

“I don’t date losers.”

This is the first time I’ve given words to what Max and I are doing. Dating. It feels almost monumental, yet like it’s not enough all at the same time.

When I peer up into his eyes, he looks as if he recognizes it, too.

“It’s a good thing then,” he says before pressing a kiss to my jawline.

I stifle a groan. “What’s a good thing?” It comes out as a whisper.

He moves his mouth to my ear. “That I’m sitting at number one on the grid.”

Electricity courses through me. Partly from the way his lips graze the skin of my earlobe and partly because, yes, it is a turn on to be in the arms of the driver who, so far this season, is in the lead to win it all.

A twinge of guilt crawls out of the hiding place in my stomach, but I stamp it out as if I’m stomping out a small fire before it can grow and destroy everything in its wake.

Unfortunately, the embers left behind manage to ignite into something else.

“Do you have to get home early tonight?”

His question briefly pulls me out of the downward spiral.

“N-No,” I say, my voice sounding shakier than I want. I act like I don’t see the way Max’s eyebrows pinch in confusion right before he takes my hand, directing us toward the pier to walk along.

“This is my favorite time of night,” he says. “Was my father’s too,” he adds as if falling into a memory.

But the mention of his father directs my attention back to my earlier thoughts.

What if you really scared him?

What if he’s thinking about his father because of what you did in that go-kart?

My mind screams at me that I’m a terrible person for the stunt I pulled earlier with the go-kart. I start to do the worst thing possible when my brain turns on me like this. But I can’t ignore this growing obsession. All of the potential ‘what-ifs’ begin to spiral through my mind and I can’t look away from them. Not this time.

“Is something the matter?” Max’s question cuts through my last thought.

“What?” It comes out in a pant. “Nothing,” I say before he can answer.

You lied. What if you’ve hurt his feelings?

I’m a horrible person.