Penelope Douglas - Until You

Roman had backed his Trans Am into position as the crowd cleared the track. Whistles erupted around us as Tate climbed in behind my wheel.

We both sunk in, and aggravation chipped away my calm at how helpless I felt. I’d never sat in the passenger side before.

I couldn’t keep my eyes forward, and they slipped over to Tate, who was running her hands up and down the wheel.

The picture of her, sitting in my fucking seat, with her hands on my fucking wheel was too much.

I shifted, my dick unable to control itself.

As usual, around her.

I had no idea what it was about the idea of her in my car. Maybe it was how hot I knew she would look, or the thought of the two things that made my heart beat coming together, but my jeans got tight.

I inhaled deeply, suddenly wanting my fucking car slammed with rain, and her body glowing with sweat as she straddled me in my seat.

She was beautiful, and it was the worst moment of my life to want something so badly and know I wasn’t going to get it.

Not yet, anyway.

Turning the key, she shifted into reverse, and I could only watch in admiration as she put her arm on the back of my seat and looked over her shoulder to back the car into position. She worked the wheel easily and maneuvered the pedals smoothly, flexing her legs every time she braked and shifted.

It was like watching porn.

Tate was at ease and happy, and a smile played at the corner of her lips.

Smiling. In my presence.

Again, a weight descended on my shoulders, and I felt bad for everything I’d done to her. To her and to me.

“You’re smiling,” I said, wishing she’d stop and hoping she never would.

I wanted to make her smile, and I hated being reminded that she never did.

“Don’t ruin this for me by talking, please.”

Fair enough.

I cleared my throat. “So, your dad taught us both how to drive sticks, and the Bronco is a manual, so I’m assuming you don’t have any questions about that part, right?”

“None.” Her eyes stayed forward. She seemed half engaged with what I was saying and half mesmerized by the feel of the car. Her fingers tapped and her eyes fell everywhere around her.

I gave her a rundown of what to do, when to slow down, and how to turn, but she only responded with nods.

Zack came in front of the cars, probably because the female drivers wouldn’t be interested in Devon Peterson shaking her ass at them, and that’s when my heart dropped into my stomach.

Shit!

Tate reached out and touched the fossil necklace. Her necklace, meant for her mother, that I had stolen and kept all these years.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Blood pumped through my ears, and it took everything to keep my voice steady and calm. I’d forgotten it was still there.

“Good luck charm,” I explained, fastening my seatbelt and averting my eyes. “I took it a couple of days after you left it there. I thought it would be stolen or ruined. Kind of had it with me ever since.”

But what was worse than her knowing I had kept it all these years was the knowledge that she’d want it back. I had no right to keep it, after all.

Dropping her hand, I saw her stare out the driver’s side window in silence.

What was she thinking? I wanted to know, but I’d never ask.

“Are. We. Ready?” Zack’s voice startled me back to reality, and Tate snapped her head back to the front.

I reached out and found Waking the Demon by Bullet for My Valentine on my iPod and turned it up.

Noise, activity, distraction.

We both focused out of the windshield, silent.

“Ready?” Zack shouted, and I smiled as Tate revved the engine.

“Set?” I turned up the music again and braced myself.

I hoped for the best but wouldn’t be surprised if Tate decided to purposefully crash my baby as revenge.

“Go!”

She slammed on the gas, breathing hard and breaking into a wild smile with the excitement of the moment. Maybe it was the feeling of a different car, or maybe it was the thrill of competition, but she was zoned in. Her eyes watched the road like it was her prey, and her fingers worked the stick shift hard and fast.

I watched her muscle handled my muscle, and I shook my head.

Porn.

“The first turn comes up fast,” I spoke up, getting my head back in the game.

Tate said nothing, but it looked like she stopped breathing as she applied the brake and started rounding the first corner.

Adrenaline pooled in my chest, and I clenched my teeth, ready to shout at her to slow down more. She was ahead—not much of a surprise there—but the Trans Am could easily catch up if she got off track.

Checking the rearview mirror, I saw Roman’s car gaining speed, and gripped the dash harder. Fucking Roman. If Tate wasn’t gone by the time it made the turn, they’d slam us.

“Hit the gas!” I yelled after she’d straightened out the car. “And don’t turn so hard. You’re losing time correcting yourself.”

“Who’s in first place?” she replied haughtily.

“Don’t get cocky.”

But she didn’t listen. She only turned up the music and slammed the stick shift into sixth. We shot forward, and I tensed up but not from nervousness.

I didn’t feel helpless right now, which was weird. Normally, I wanted to be in control, and riding shotgun bugged the hell out of me but now? I liked watching her.

“Next turn is coming. You need to slow down,” I ordered.

She folded her lips between her teeth, but the car’s engine wasn’t slowing down.

What the hell was she doing?

I pinched my eyebrows at her and made my voice deeper. “Tatum, you need to slow down.”

Yeah, that didn’t work.

My heart beat faster the closer we got to the turn, and I grabbed the dash helplessly with both hands as Tate skidded around the corner and spun the wheel left, then right, and then left again to get centered. She was quick, and she and the car were one. It wasn’t smooth or clean. It was fast and dangerous.

“Don’t do that again.” I wanted her safe.

She was going to win, anyway. Roman’s car was behind, and I cringed at the tongue-lashing his girlfriend was probably getting.

Tate didn’t need to be reckless. Not in a car anyway.

I spewed a few more orders her way during the next turn, to which she fucking ignored, and we advanced on the final turn at a significant gain. Slowing down to about thirty miles an hour, Tate looked over at me and smiled sweetly.

“Is this okay, Ms. Daisy?”

Her eyes lit up with a challenge.

She was trying not to laugh, and I couldn’t take my eyes off of her full, pursed lips.

And I knew right then and there that I was going to wipe that smug, little grin off of her face.

I wanted Tate—panting and helpless—as I buried myself inside of her. No jokes, no sarcasm, no words. Just me in her eyes.

“Tatum?” I challenged her back. “Stop toying with your opponent and win the damn race already.”

“Yes’m, Ms. Daisy.”

I clenched my fists and my teeth.

God, I couldn’t wait to have her in my hands again.

Tate cruised past the finish line so hilariously slow that the crowd roared more than Madoc’s and my races put together. She brought the car to a stop as the swarms of spectators hovered around the car.

Leaving the Boss in neutral and setting the e-brake, she leaned back and relaxed against the seat.

“Thank you, Jared.” Her voice was almost a whisper, sweet and sincere. “Thank you for asking me to do this.”

My throat tightened.

She reached up and unhooked the necklace from my rearview mirror and slipped it around her slender neck. Her face was thoughtful but comfortable.

The air turned warm, and it was just us.

Tate and Jared.

I combed my hand through my hair, shaking off the déjà vu feeling and opened my door to the cheering crowd.

I stopped and looked down to the floor. “Waking the demon…” I murmured. I don’t know why I picked that song to race to, but it just occurred to me how it fit.

“Thank you, Tate,” I whispered, looking over at her.

“Tatum” didn’t fit. It never did, really.

She was Tate and always would be.

“So are you two friends yet?” A very drunk Madoc hooked his arm around my neck at the bonfire after the race.

I knew who he was talking about.

“I wouldn’t go that far.” I took a sip of my warm beer and kept my eyes forward.

Tate and I had exchanged pleasantries when I arrived, but I knew I’d have to talk to her again tonight.

I was bound and determined to get that necklace back. I had to see my father tomorrow.

“I’m sure it’ll work out,” he sighed nonchalantly. “Now that she’s got a boyfriend, I think you’ll both move on to more interesting pastimes than hating each other.”

The cup cracked in my hand. “She doesn’t have a boyfriend.”

“She will,” he spat back, and I could hear the smile in his voice. “He’s going to try to put his hands on her tonight.”

No.

Tate and Ben weren’t together tonight as friends. I knew that. But Madoc saying it out loud made my stomach burn with rage.

“You see all those guys?” He jerked his chin and waved his hand to the group that Tate and Ben were chatting with. “They all want to put their hands up her skirt. You know that, right?”

Just breathe.

“And sooner or later,” Madoc continued, “she’s going to let one of them.”

Damn him.

I swallowed and relaxed my grip on the red plastic cup.

Madoc walked away, having done the damage he came to do.

I knew he was just trying to mess with my head, but he was right, and my race high drained out of my head in a steady stream.

She would never forgive me.

She had a future, and mine was questionable.

But I looked over at Tate, who immediately glanced up at me across the fire, and it was like trying to walk away from the water that you knew you needed to live.

There was no choice but to drink.

Before I could get my head zoned into what the hell I was going to do next, I felt arms circle my neck.

“God, I’ve missed you.” A sweet-smelling body pressed against me and soft, moist lips groaned against my neck.

Piper.

I calmly unwrapped her arms. “I hear you’ve kept busy with Nate Dietrich,” I challenged, but I didn’t care.

She came around to face me. “We went out a couple of times. But I’m all about you,” she said, leaning in. “I even have a surprise for you.”

“And what is that?” I humored her.

“Oh, goodie.” She clapped her hands together. “You’re interested.”

“Do you see that girl over there?” She pointed across the bonfire to a redhead in short, black shorts and a fitted tank.

“What about her?” I asked, not sure where this was going.

“How about you, me, and her go back to your house?”

What? I blinked, not sure if I’d heard her right.

Did she just offer—

“I’ve already worked it out. She’s game. We can all play, or…” she lowered her voice, “you can watch.”

I closed my eyes and ran my hand down my face.

Jesus Christ. A fucking threesome. Was she serious?

My heart jumped, and I felt my jaw twitch with a nervous smile I didn’t let out.

A threesome was something I hadn’t done yet, and what guy wouldn’t want that?

An image of myself in bed with two girls flashed in my mind, and my stomach dropped when both girls looked like Tate.

I looked at Piper and then to the girl across the area, who was sexy as hell and giving me her “fuck me” eyes, and I wanted to punch something.

I looked to the ground, blinking with the realization that I didn’t want what they were offering.

In fact, I kind of felt like taking a bath thinking about it.

Christ.

I was going to hate myself for this someday.

I pulled Piper’s hands off me again. “Stop.” And I backed away.

“What?” she blurted out, her tone surprised and her eyes pissed.

I shook my head. “Just get home safely, okay?” And I walked away.

“Fucking enough,” I mumbled. And I went off in search of Tate.

I didn’t care if she was Ben’s date.