The car shoots forward so fast my stomach drops out like I’m on a roller coaster as I’m flattened against the seat. My heart stops, and a scream escapes before I can stop it. Royal laughs, expertly turning into the skid as his car slides around, spitting up smoke and noise in its wake as he careens past Gloria, missing her by a hair as she waves for someone to get in her car.
After a minute, I catch my breath and look over at Royal, about to tell him he’s insane. But he’s smiling so big, and for once, his eyes aren’t deep with pain. He’s just in the moment—daring, reckless, happy. It breaks my fucking heart.
On impulse, I lean across the console and kiss him hard on the cheek.
“You’re fucking crazy, Stalker Girl,” he says.
“Ditto,” I say, smiling back.
“Be my rail meat, baby,” he says. “Get in the window. I’ll give you the ride of your life.”
I don’t think about it. I don’t think about the future, or what I’m going to tell Mr. D, or if I’m going to keep my scholarship, or how I’m going to get out of this town. I give myself to the moment, like he is. I give my brain permission to shut off, to think only of this moment, not whether I’m going to make it out of tonight alive.
I slide up onto the windowsill of the passenger side, sitting on the door with only one arm and my legs still inside the vehicle, holding on. Royal’s car skids, and the crowd rushes by in a blur of painted faces and colorful costumes. I wave and whoop as we zoom past another car that’s arrived, weaving in and out in an intricate death-defying dance.
And then we’re out of the lot, skidding onto the road. Instead of screaming in fear, a whoop of exhilaration leaves me, the wind snatching it from my mouth and whipping my hair out. As we rocket through the empty streets of Faulkner, I open my mouth again, and I scream. I scream louder, longer, refusing to let my voice be stolen from me. All the fear and frustration and joy of the moment come pouring out of me. I stay out as long as I can, screaming through Faulkner with the roaring power of the engine accompanying me.
At last, Royal pulls off next to a bridge. I don’t even know where we are, just that we’re on his side of town. It’s dark, but the half-moon is bright, illuminating the bridge and the small river below. He cuts the lights, and we’re alone, with only the moon to witness. He turns to me, a haughty grin on his face. “You like that, huh?”
“Who wouldn’t?” I say, laughing and shaking back my wind-blown hair. My heart is suddenly stammering in my chest.
He looks me up and down, biting back a grin as he shuts off the engine. “You know I get to fuck you now, right?”
“What?” I ask, still breathless with laughter and exhilaration.
“You got in my car when I won a race,” he says. “You’re my prize.”
“Royal,” I say, leaning across the seat. I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him softly on the lips. “You don’t have to win a race to get me to fuck you. Just be a man I’d want to fuck.”
He stares at me a long moment, then slides a hand behind my head and brings my mouth to his. Like the first time, the moment our lips meet, white-hot energy electrifies me. I tremble with the power of it, and he sighs and draws me closer, slipping his tongue between my lips. He caresses my tongue with his, working into a rhythm that makes my body pulse with pure lust. I bury my hands in his hair and arch my back to get closer. He holds me gently even as his mouth skillfully and forcefully commands mine to submit.
I do. I let myself go to this moment, too, letting him cradle me and slowly fuck my mouth with his tongue. His kiss is deep and filled with a yearning that makes my teeth ache, like he can’t get what he needs no matter how long and hard and deep he kisses me. Our mouths move together until my body is tingling with heat, every inch of me answering the longing in his kiss, wanting to be the thing that quenches the insatiable thirst inside him. His hands stay buried in my hair, his thumb caressing my cheek, my ear, my jaw; his tongue owning mine with every stroke.
We kiss, and kiss, and kiss. Leaves skitter across the roof, and the wind whips through the car, a chill in the air that sucks the fevered heat from our bodies. Clouds move over the moon and then off again. I run my hands over his huge arms, the muscles bulging and knotting under my palms, my fingers not even fitting halfway around his bicep.
I remember thinking he was a black hole that would never be filled no matter how much he took, and I know I was right. I could kiss him for the rest of my life, could fuck him forever, and it would never touch the void he’s trying to fill with me, or other girls, or fighting, or football, or racing.
But I don’t care. I want to try. I want to be the thing that makes him laugh like winning, the person who makes him feel better for even a moment, if only on the surface. It feels good to be so wanted, so needed. And god, my body is more live than it’s ever been, every cell in my being vibrating with the need he puts inside me. My swollen lips ache from how long we’ve kissed, and my core clenches with need, throbbing with hunger to be filled with him, even if only for a moment, for a night, when no one else knows.
I’m the one who gives in first, who moves my hands from his shoulders to his sculpted chest, down his washboard abs, onto his muscular thighs. I slide my palms up, my heart racing before I even touch his cock. I reach the top of his thighs and run my thumb along the iron ridge that strains against his jeans.
“Harper.” He breaks the kiss, pressing his forehead to mine. His voice is choked, and his eyes are closed. His long, thick lashes make shadows on his cheeks in the moonlight. “Harper,” he whispers, his breath ragged against my hot lips.
“Royal,” I say, sliding a hand behind his head, lacing my fingers through his thick, dark hair. I run my other hand over his cock, circling my flattened palm against the thick head of it. “I want to. I want to fuck you.”
His cock throbs against my palm, and he sucks in a breath. He pulls me in, pressing his forehead to mine hard enough to hurt. Then he releases me, pushing me back to my seat. “No.”
“Royal,” I say, sliding a hand over his thigh but not moving to touch him more intimately. “It’s okay. I want to. Youarea man I want to fuck. The only man.”
He turns the key, lighting up the bridge in front of us. “Now who’s all up in someone else’s face, acting like she owns me?” he asks, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
“What?” I ask, stung. “I’m all up in your face?”
“I was making a joke,” he says, leaning over to grab my seatbelt. He snaps it into place and tucks my hair behind my ear. “About what you did back there to Eleanor. That was pretty hot.”
I cross my arms over my chest, holding back the hurt, keeping it from turning into something snarky like, “Apparently not hot enough.”
Royal sighs and turns to face forward, shifting into gear and pulling onto the road. I have no idea what just happened. I’m not super experienced, but I know that guys don’t usually turn a girl down at that point in the game. He got me all keyed up and then shut it down with zero warning. I just wish I knew why.