Dirt Driven (Racing on the Edge #11) - Shey Stahl Page 0,2

one smirk, he had his arms wrapped around my body and his mouth on my neck. With one sweep of his tongue against my overly heated skin, I melted. “Now, how about you show me how feisty you can be?”

“Can’t,” I whispered, trying like hell to ignore him and his wicked ways of getting me to do whatever he wanted. “I just put Hudson down for a nap on our bed.”

His arms tightened around me and he backed me up against the fence on the front stretch. The metal squeaked in protest when his body pressed into mine. “We don’t need a bed,” he grunted, his breath tickling my cheek, assaulting me with open-mouth kisses up the side of my neck. When he got to my jaw, he held my face is his hands, those beautiful blue eyes on mine. Flush against each other, I had forgotten what this was like. To be drunk on the scent of him and held still by the force of him.

He shut me up by slamming his lips on mine. Warm, salty, just right, as always. I couldn’t accurately describe what it was like to be kissed by this man, but that kiss, it was everything he had become to me. Adrenaline. Addiction. Aggression. It was all there drawing out my deepest desires, desperate for more, and the weight of him pinning me to the fence.

I jerked my head to the side when something wet hit the side of my face and it wasn’t from Rager. I looked up to the sky thinking it was starting to rain, but cloudless turquoise shined down on us. “What was that?”

Rager turned his head, and then scowled immediately. “What the fuck, Tommy?”

“Thought you two should calm down.” Perched on a four-wheeler with Hudson on his lap, Tommy grinned and held up a squirt gun in his hand. “Or you could get lit. Whatever you prefer.”

Tommy Davis was my dad’s longtime best friend, and my older brother, Axel’s, crew chief. He’d lived his life around the Outlaw schedule for the past thirty years, and sometimes I think he drank racing fuel and it went to his brain. Wavy orange hair, brown eyes full of trouble, his blood was mostly vodka and he was up to no good most of the time. Never trust him.

Rager backed up, creating a foot of space between the two of us. He wiped his hand down his cheek and then smelled it. “Is that vodka in your squirt gun?”

At the same time my son Hudson took it from him and squirted his mouth. Tommy’s wide eyes met Rager’s. “Will you kill me if it is?”

Rager stepped toward them, his black T-shirt stretching perfectly around his biceps. “If my son is drinking vodka, yes.”

Tommy grinned. “Then it’s water.”

Rage took another step. “Bullshit.”

Straightening out my tank top, I kicked dirt from my white shoes I knew I shouldn’t be wearing at a dirt track. After collecting my phone, I wiped the vodka from my cheek and moved toward Rager.

Hudson looked at me, Rager, and then smiled at Tommy and tried to pry the squirt gun from his hands. Our almost two-year-old son, Hudson, was the definition of a bad kid. I said that with all the love a mother has for her children. I loved my baby boy, but he was an asshole. Plain and simple. We couldn’t even find a regular babysitter for him; he’s that bad. And he only liked my dad. Everyone else he scowled at.

To prove my point, just wait. When Tommy didn’t give Hudson the squirt gun, he threw his head back in a tantrum and nailed Tommy right in the chin.

Rager shook his head when Tommy caved and handed him the squirt gun. “Here, ya little brat.”

“Don’t give him that.” I gasped, rushing toward them to pry the squirt gun out of Hudson’s hand. Naturally, he cried and I plucked him off the four-wheeler.

“What is he even doing up? I put him down for a nap. Rosa said she was watching the kids for us.”

Tommy started the four-wheeler, revving it once. “I saw Rosa at the concession stands. She didn’t have any kids with her. I picked this little guy up on the way to check track conditions. He was wandering around under the pit bleachers.”

Goddamn you, Rosa was my first thought. Followed quickly by, It’s a good thing my dad didn’t see him under there.

Hudson took my phone from my hand and threw it on the ground. No