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she is.

“Sleep tight,” I say and kiss her forehead, right over the scar.

I close my eyes and wonder what it would be like to wake like this every morning. Skittles in my arms, none of the barriers and guards between us. I snort at my crazy ass and fall asleep before I have anymore stupid thoughts.

Chapter 11

First Place

Pit

“I like your real hair better,” I whisper in Skittles’ ear as I walk up behind her.

She looks up and I swear I can see her cheeks glow. She was gone this morning when I woke. When it was time to leave for the race and I caught her coming out of the room next door to mine instead of the one across from me, I didn’t tease her about switching rooms or the spider.

Although I was disappointed as hell to see she was wearing one of those colorful wigs and not her natural brown crown. Yeah, that’s exactly what it reminded me of. A crown.

Night has fallen, so it’s showtime. I look around at these chumps. I can smell the fear on them. A team gets cut tonight. It won’t be mine.

“Let’s finish this shit.”

I wink at her and tug on my driving gloves. Suddenly, the embarrassed look fades from her face. She frowns and all that sass comes out.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she says as I zip my jumpsuit.

“I’m about to win this race.”

“No, you’re not. I’m driving. We need to make the next round.”

I scoff. “I don’t see the damn problem. I’m driving. We’ll make it.”

Ox and Roman groan and walk off. I ignore them and home in on Skittles. She’s serious with this.

“You do know I know how to drive? It’s the reason you asked me to do this.”

“As a backup driver if I wasn’t able to drive,” she says pointedly.

“Oh, you got me fucked up, Mayven. I’m no one’s backup. I’ll run circles around you and everyone else here,” I seethe.

“I built the car. I know how it handles. I’m smaller than you. It’s better for the aerodynamics. It makes the car lighter when I drive,” she snaps getting all nerdy on me.

It’s hot that she can build a car from the ground up. I know she knows her shit, but I’m driving. I’m not sitting through what happened last time.

“I’m driving,” I bite out.

“Will,” she growls.

“Mayven,” I return, mocking the way she says my name.

I walk off and get into the slick black car with the bright colors on the back end. Before I know it, she’s seated in the passenger side. I look at her like she’s crazy.

“Weren’t you worried about the weight in the car? By the way, what’s with the passenger seat?”

“The earlier races are single passenger. In the later races we have to ride as partners. We won’t have time to trade the bodies and I didn’t have time to design a third car, just the two required and they had to be identical according to the rules,” she says in exasperation.

“Good, so you built it to handle two people. We’re good.” I shrug and set my phone up.

“You’re not listening. They don’t have a second body in their cars now and I’m lighter than all of you.”

“Not with all that ass, baby. That shit has to be fifty pounds by itself.”

She growls at me. I go to tell her to get her ass out of the car, but it’s too late. They’re waving for me to pull up to the starting line. We’ve been arguing too long.

“Put your seat belt on,” I say in frustration.

I pull into my spot and turn on my music. Skittles is vibrating with anger next to me, but I tune her out and focus on what I’m the best at. I work this track like some good pussy I’m about to put to sleep.

My heart pounds to the beat of Method Man and Redman’s “Da Rockwilder.” This race is not as cut and dry as the track race Skittles drove. We take this track for four laps before we hit the street course they mapped out and sent to our GPS.

It’s the reason this race is at night. There’s a chance we could have trouble with the police, but that’s what the club wants, to see how you handle those situations. I eat up the track with ease.

I’m closing out the fourth lap when I see them opening the gate to allow us to drive out. I’m out front, but there’s a car on my ass.

“Hold tight,” I say to Skittles as I fly past the gate.

Skittles

Oh my God. How does he make driving so sexy? I squeeze my thighs and it’s not because of the speed he’s driving at.

The car that’s been riding our tail tries to push us on the right and Pit growls. I mean, the sexiest growl I’ve ever heard. I bat my lashes because I think I may have come from the sound alone. I turn to him right as he shifts gears. The sight draws a shiver.

The control he has over the car is phenomenal. I can build a dream machine, but if the driver is crap, it means nothing. Pit drives this thing like its a toy.

The car purrs beneath him and bends to his will. We glide through the nearly empty Brooklyn streets of New York. I’m sure the residents in the area are wondering what the hell is going on.

That’s when it happens, a cop car pulls out behind the car that’s struggling to keep up with us. I turn to look out the back window. Sure enough, the cops are in pursuit.

“Pit,” I call. “We have a problem.”

“No, we don’t.” he says, before switching the music off and talking into the comm. “Rome, I need an out and a row of greens.”

“Got it,” Roman replies.

I chew on my lip. This is what my team is good at. We race in other clubs and have a routine. I’m not sure

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