Page 88 of Unholy Union
Which is exactly why he won’t see me coming.
Sure, I don’t have my driver’s license and I’ve failed the test three times. But this might be one of the few situations where being a bad driver actually comes in handy.
I tend to speed and I’m no stranger to curb checking once or twice. I’m not afraid to use my bad driving to my advantage if it means winning.
As we close in on the second lap, the track curves wide and I see my window. I lean into the turn and gun it, my gold kart jolting past him. I catch a flash of his shocked expression just before I swerve into his space, bumping the side of his kart with mine hard enough to make him veer.
“Shit!” he growls.
But I’m already past him, my curls whipping in the wind, laughter bubbling in my throat.
The final lap is a blur of adrenaline. I fly through the last bend like I’ve done this a thousand times, my hands tight on thewheel, my heart pounding as the checkered line zooms closer. One last breath, one last push, and I cross it.
Gold wins!
I leap out of the kart and jump up and down in sheer glee. You’d think I just won the Grand Prix.
“YES!” I yell, my arms flung overhead. “Gold wins, baby!”
Cato pulls up beside me a second later, climbing out of the kart with a lethal expression clenched onto his face. He doesn’t say a word as he stalks toward me, dark eyes locked on mine, his chest rising and falling.
I’m still laughing when he grabs my wrist and yanks me into him.
His mouth crashes to mine in a hard, demanding kiss. I’m left reeling as his lips claim mine with an aggressive hunger that’s instantly consuming.
Cato kisses me like he’s been holding back for weeks and he’s finally hit his breaking point. It’s as if I’ve been driving him insane and this is the only language left that he knows how to speak.
His lips on mine, his tongue thrust into my mouth.
His fingers fist the back of my hair, tilting my head to deepen the kiss. I claw at his shirt as he devours me and heat pools inside my belly.
I’m not sure how long we’re standing by the finish line wrapped in each other’s arms, kissing deeply, but when we do finally pull away we’re heaving air into our lungs, gazes still connected.
“You think that was cute, principessa?” he murmurs, cupping my face in his hands. “Beating me like that?”
“I did what I had to do to win,” I whisper defiantly.
His lips tilt in a crooked grin as he thumbs my lip. “That may be. But guess what? That doesn’t mean you still won’t be going for a ride tonight.”
We leave the racetrack still buzzing with adrenaline, the air between us charged. My cheeks are flushed and warm and Cato seems to feel the same.
We head toward the boardwalk stalls, drawn by the familiar smell of grilled onions and salty, sizzling meat. When we reach the counter at Nathan’s, Cato raises a brow at the chaos I pile onto my hot dog—crispy bacon, melted cheddar, jalapeños, a smear of chipotle mayo.
“You’re not seriously going to eat that, are you?”
I take a big bite just to spite him, eyes fluttering shut in bliss as the tangy spice hits my tongue. I add a moan for extra dramatic effect.
“Mmmm! Sooo freaking good,” I say, mouth half full. “It’s incredible.”
“I forgot my wife eats like a raccoon at a dumpster when left to her own devices.”
“Want some? Much better than your boring ketchup and relish dog. Live a little, Valente!”
He watches as I go for another gluttonous bite, licking the melted cheddar off the corner of my lip.
I’m not sure what I’m expecting him to do, but it’s definitely not reach out to catch my wrist the way he does. His warm fingers wrap around my skin and he pulls my hand toward his mouth, taking a bite of my half-eaten cheesy bacon jalapeño chipotle dog for himself.
I can’t help laughing at the boldness.
