I’ve rattled him in the best way. The best revenge.
The growl of our engines rises, and I flick my gaze toward him once. He cuts me a petty glare as if it’s supposed to do something. If anything, it just makes him look exactly like the pussy he is. That pathetic mix of ego and desperation rolls off him in waves.
Good.
Let him choke on it.
I roll my shoulders back, fingers tightening. The Supra hums beneath me, vibrating up my arms and settling deep in my chest like a second heartbeat. When I glance at the rearview mirror, I catch Maksim’s reflection, watching me with a look that sets my whole body on fire. Pride, possession, and hunger all rolled into one. My thighs clench, still sensitive from the way he touched me…and from the glorious stickiness he left behind.
My good luck charm.
I breathe out once. Blue Braid drops her hand to her side, then the bullhorn comes down.
Game time.
The Supra leaps forward so hard it shoves me into the seat, and the world tunnels into neon streaks. Cole's car lunges too, trying to keep up.
Second gear. Then third.
He hangs near my rear quarter panel for a breath, just long enough for him to think he has a chance.
He doesn’t.
I shift again, and I’m shot forward. The gap stretches, and his headlights shrink in my mirror.
“Bye, asshole.”
When I hit the last stretch, I can see the finish line glowing under the floodlights ahead. But I don’t let up. I push harder, forcing every ounce of power out of her until the line streaks beneath my tires.
And I fucking win.
“Fuck, yes!”
I ease off the throttle, my heart pounding, and a laugh ripping out of me so loud it feels like a victory scream. The crowd outside erupts, but instead of cheers for me, all I hear is the beautiful sound of Cole’s loss. And when I spin the car aroundand roll back, his headlights are still crawling toward the finish line.
I guess I’ll save that crowbar for a rainy day.
Maksim is already walking toward me, eyes on me like I’m the only one on this entire fucking street. I park, unbuckle, and step out, smiling so hard my face is about to split.
“Looks like your luck charm worked,” I call out, loud enough for my ex to hear. “Now I'm going to need you to fuck me before every race.”
The wind whips my hair around, strands catching in my mouth as I laugh uncontrollably and flip Maksim off. He pulls in front of me and guns it toward the next exit, childish and victorious.
I ease off the gas and let him have his little moment. Nothing can dull my mood tonight.
Three wins. Fifteen grand in my pocket. And a good, bone-melting fuck.
What more can a girl ask for?
“I won,” he calls out when he steps toward my car.
I roll to a stop behind his M8 on the shoulder of a dark road. Before I can even open my mouth to argue, he’s ripping my door open and hauling me out. My legs instinctively wrap around his waist, a startled breath escaping as my back hits the warm hood.
“Did you?” I challenge. “Or did I let you win?”
He laughs against my throat and trails kisses down my neck. “I still want my prize.”
My legs squeeze tighter around him, pulling him closer, and I grind my pussy against his hard abs, desperate for even a hint of friction.
