Page 71 of You, Me, and Lucky Number 13

This is where I want to be. With Lola in my arms, the world fading away, the only sound is the gentle whisper of the wind and the steady beat of our hearts.

The air in the garage crackles with a tension thicker than the scent of high-octane fuel and burnt rubber. It’s the last race of the season. Abu Dhabi and the championship hangs in the balance. Every bolt has been tightened, every sensor calibrated, and every strategic decision Lola and I make could be the difference between victory and crushing defeat.

Lola’s across the garage, meticulously going over the telemetry data one last time. Even in the sterile fluorescent light, she’s a knockout. Her brow furrows in concentration, her lips moving silently as she analyzes the numbers, and I can’t help but remember the way those lips tasted, the way her body felt pressed against mine.

I push the thoughts away, forcing my focus back to the engine in front of me. This is it. Everything we’ve worked for, bled for, comes down to this race. But I can’t deny the truth anymore. Racing has always been my first, maybe my only, love, but it’s taken a back seat to Lola. She’s not just my race engineer. She’s my everything. My confidante, my partner in crime, the one person who truly understands the fire that burns inside me.

“Cole,” she calls out, her voice sharp, pulling me from my thoughts. “Can you come take a look at this?”

I cross the garage, my boots echoing on the concrete floor, and stop beside her. Her scent, that mix of citrus and something uniquely her, hits me, sending a jolt of desire straight to my gut.

“What’s up?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady, my gaze fixed on the data scrolling across her tablet screen.

“I’m seeing some inconsistencies in the tire pressure readings,” she says, her brow furrowed, her focus laser sharp. “It’s subtle, but it could affect your grip, especially during the later laps.”

She’s brilliant, my Lola. Always one step ahead, always thinking, always pushing. And it’s not just her mind that gets me going. It’s the way her passion matches my own, the way her eyes light up when she talks about downforce and apex speeds, the way she makes me want to win, not just for the team, but for her.

I lean closer, our shoulders brushing, the heat of her body a tangible presence beside me. “What do you suggest we do?”

Her eyes meet mine, and the data, the race, the championship—it all fades away. All I can see is her, the woman who has stolen my heart without even trying.

“Cole,” she whispers, her voice husky.

And then I’m kissing her. It’s not a question or a request. It’s a need. She tastes like coffee and something sweeter, something that makes me crave more. Her hands tangle in my hair, pulling me closer, and I lose myself in the feel of her lips against mine and the way our bodies fit together so perfectly.

The world shrinks, the roar of the garage fading away, until it’s just the two of us, the heat of our desire consuming everything.

I break the kiss, breathless, my heart pounding against my ribs like a race car engine about to redline. “Lola,” I groan, her name a prayer escaping my lips.

“Don’t stop,” she whispers, her voice trembling with need.

And I don’t. Nothing can stop me right now.

I lift her, her legs wrapping around my waist. She’s light as a feather, and her body fits perfectly against mine. I guide her ontothe rear wing of the Viper, the cool metal a contrast to the heat radiating between us.

Above us, the fluorescent lights hum, casting long shadows that dance across the garage floor. Around us, the world rushes on, oblivious to the fire raging between us, the passion that threatens to consume everything in its path.

But for now, all that matters is Lola. Her lips, her touch, the way she makes me forget everything but the feel of her in my arms, the taste of her on my tongue, and the knowledge that she wants me as much as I want her.

And as I kiss her again, deeper this time, losing myself in the fire that burns between us, I know one thing for certain: This race, this championship, this moment… it’s all for her.

Her fingers dig into my shoulders, pulling me closer as our tongues tangle in a dance of need and desperation. Her scent fills my senses, driving me wild. I’ve kissed her before, but this is different somehow. This is real. This is us.

I break the kiss, needing to see her, to lose myself in the depths of her emerald eyes, eyes that now burn with a fire that mirrors my own. “Lola,” I breathe, her name a prayer escaping my lips.

“Don’t talk,” she whispers, her voice husky with desire. “Just kiss me again.”

And I do.

I kiss her with everything I have, pouring all my pent-up longing and unspoken desires into that one touch. My hands roam her body, exploring the curves beneath her shirt, memorizing every inch, every sigh, every tremor that ripples through her as I deepen the kiss. I’ve never wanted anything as much as I want her, right here, right now.

Her hands slide up my chest, her fingers moving around, tracing the lines of my back. I groan, the sound a mix of pleasureand frustration as I fight to keep my control, to savor this moment and make it last.

But the need, the hunger, is too strong. I break the kiss again, my breath coming in ragged gasps, and she looks at me, her eyes questioning, her lips swollen and parted, begging for more.

“Lola,” I say, my voice rough with desire. “I need you.”

The words hang in the air between us, a confession, a surrender. And in her eyes, I see the answer I’m looking for. She needs me, too.

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