Of course he knew where the ignition was. Just because there wasn’t one in a stock car didn’t mean he didn’t drive a regular car. Duh. She was losing it. Gripping the dashboard, she tried to relax as he pulled out. What was the worst thing that could happen?
Evan hit a pothole hard. “Whoops.”
“You did that on purpose.”
“I did not. Visibility is poor here.”
“And you’re full of shit. You drive under the lights going damn near two hundred all the time. You’re not like that guy I dated who didn’t know the clutch from the brake.”
Realizing that it was true, Kendall relaxed and settled back into her seat. Evan had been driving practically since birth. Taking her Vette around an empty track was not going to damage her car in any way.
“Which guy was that? He sounds like a loser.” Evan drawled out the word “loser” with a heavy twang, so it sounded like lose-uh.
“It doesn’t matter.” He wasn’t important. None of the men she had dated had been particularly important. Which at times had scared her. Here she was cruising up to thirty and she hadn’t even come close to falling in love. Not since the teen puppy love she’d felt for this annoying man next to her.
Except he wasn’t particularly annoying to her at the moment.
He was making her smile, with his own quick grin and casual charm.
And he was turning her on, with the way he sat so confidently in the driver’s seat, his hand gripping the gearshift loosely. Those fingers, that had just been inside her, worked to shift gears with fluidity and strength. He had opened the engine up so that her car was eating up track. Evan was owning it without hesitation, taking the first turn smoothly, his eyes facing forward, but his mouth turned up at the corner.
“Not bad,” he told her.
No, it wasn’t bad at all. In fact, she was getting hot in her jeans all over again watching him. He was inherently sexy, powerful, masculine. The hard edge of the second turn threw her towards him and she brushed against his arm. The muscles beneath his shirt were bulging from the position of his arm on the gears.
“I’m going to make your car my bitch,” he told her, shooting a grin her way.
The hell he was. “My car is a guy. And that was totally sexist, by the way.”
“How do you know your car is a guy?”
“Because it’s strong and fast, but it lets me call the shots. This is my ride.”
“That was sexist, too. But so fucking hot I’m willing to overlook it.” Evan turned the wheel and eased up on the gas as he left the track.
The jolt as he nailed a pothole at eighty miles an hour rattled her teeth, but Kendall didn’t care. That tone of voice he had used, that matter-of-fact willingness to admit he wanted her, had her shifting on her seat, inner thighs moist. “I wasn’t trying to be hot.”
“Well, it was. You are. And I’m taking you home.”
“So you said.” Kendall cleared her throat, a tightness, an anticipation, closing it off. “And I believe my answer was yes, so get the lead out, Monroe. My grandma drives faster than you do.”
He laughed. “Oh, little girl, you are asking for trouble.”
“I already got me some trouble, and it’s driving my car. What I’m asking is for you to hurry on up so I can get laid.” Much as with her car, she felt the need to show Evan who was boss.
Not that she was in control of him or herself or anything else for that matter. One hour and a smoldering kiss and she was letting him nail her on the hood of her car, but why make it any easier for him than it already was?
“Yes, ma’am.” Evan slammed on the brakes as he approached the main road, and barely glanced left before jumping her car from dirt to the pavement.
Knowing she had no business saying anything after she’d just urged him to speed, Kendall bit her lip and tried not to consider the damage her shocks might be sustaining. It didn’t matter. The truth was, she was having a great time. A few hours earlier, she