Throttled (Dirty Air, #1)

by Lauren Asher

Ever since Baku, thinking about her makes my chest constrict weirdly like it recognizes how much of a dumbass I am.

“How would you feel if Maya dated another person who is willing to love her like you described earlier?” I clench my hands. The thought of her dating, kissing, or fucking another guy makes me sick. I don’t deserve her, but screw anyone else who tries. “I wouldn’t like it one fucking bit.” “And why is that?” He doesn’t flinch at my cursing, further evidence of why I like this man. “Because I’ll be wishing it was me who could do those things with her.”

I’m fucking done sitting on the sidelines thinking about my mistakes, because I’m the type to be on the front of the grid with a pole-position start. Time to get my trophy.

“I’ve missed you.” The three words he says feel like everything I want to hear. They make my heart ache because he can’t give me what I want, no matter how much I crave it. “You can’t miss what you’ve never had.” If I wasn’t currently occupied, I’d clap myself on the back for that one.

Our chemistry has not wavered. It feels as charged as ever; as his lips drag across my skin, my body unconsciously arches into him. The betrayal.

I want to tell her I’m ready to try with her, the whole deal, no more fucking around.

I remember the time I told her she can’t be biased. Guess she keeps me in mind someway, making me smile.

I lick my lips at the sight of her, the hollow part of her neck easily becoming one of my favorite places—to kiss, to touch, to nip.

If only she knew what was coming. I’m done playing games; I’m getting my checkered flag.

“I can try. I never even wanted this before. But seeing her all the time, from far away, I feel terrible. I struggle to not go up and talk to her, or even kiss her. I want a chance. But I need your help.”

“Well, I have changed, and I want to try to give you what you want. Spending all that time alone, I realized I want what you want. To spend time with you before and after races, like going on dates, hanging out at events, being lazy in bed together after mind-blowing sex. Give me all the strings attached.” The thought of rejection makes my stomach drop.

“I mean it when I say I spent a lot of time alone. I reflected on what was stopping me from trying this out with you. Our chemistry is—” her lips capture my attention—“explosive. But I also know there’s more. I like being around you, especially when you give me all your attention. I like when you film me without asking because you’re afraid of me saying no, even though you can get me to agree to anything. I love the way you laugh almost as much as the way you find your shoes interesting when you get nervous. I really like the special noises you save just for me when I kiss you, or the smiles you give me when no one is looking. I’m serious about trying it all with you. No holding back. I even met with someone to talk about my own issues and reservations, because when I do something, I go all in.”

She looks as surprised as I feel about revealing my secret. And fuck, vulnerability scares me, but I can trust Maya. I need to trust her. For once in my life, I don’t view leaning on someone else as a negative.

“I’ve missed being around you.” “I have too. It’s not the easiest thing—avoiding you when all my fans are dying to hear and see more of you.” She shoots me a wink.

“I may be partial, but I think I’m better clickbait than Jax or Liam.” Her giggle fills the room. It’s the best thing I’ve heard all week, even better than winning second place. And it hits me. Shit.

“Now, time for kissing and making up. I hear that’s the best part.” He mumbles the words into my hair.

“You’re drunk. I don’t want to risk you not remembering the first time I fuck you. I’m a gentleman, meaning I want to fuck you sober.” “I’ll remember. I promise.” I lift up two fingers like a Scout’s honor. He props up one more to show me how it’s really done. “What do I know, I wasn’t a Girl Scout.”

People rave about American football or hockey players or any other type of sport. Ladies don’t understand how sexy F1 racers are.

I was right. He does have rock-hard abs, a fuckable body, and kissable lips. He even has a defined v-cut that I want to run my tongue across. His cock is huge, begging to be touched, licked, and fucked. I’m game for all of the above.

“How about I show you how much stamina I build up from my workouts. That’s the most impressive part.” He runs his hand down my spine. I’m sold.

His tongue strokes mine, invading my mouth and taking me prisoner. Sign me up for this life sentence.

“You tore my underwear? I’ve never had that happen before. I thought that was a thing in movies.” His husky laugh turns me on even more. “I’m not like any of the guys you’ve been with before. I may not be your first fuck, but I might as well be.” His domineering words ignite every nerve ending in my body.

No Hail Mary can save me from him.

“You’re going to be the death of me. I just fucking know it.”

He knows what to do, making the guys from my past look like amateurs.

Noah really is a fucking champion. Someone give this man a trophy.

“Death by orgasm. Seems like a good way to go.” My face heats at my mistake in saying that aloud. He chuckles. “We’re not done yet. Save your eulogy for after the finale.” His wicked grin brings a smile to my face and a warmth to my center.

“You’re a naughty little thing. I would have never guessed that you like to play dirty.” The quintessential sound of foil ripping fills me with excitement. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”

“You’re so damn perfect, inside and out.” Noah brushes loose hair out of my face, running a knuckle across my flushed cheeks. I smile at him. “You’re not too bad yourself.”

“So, I don’t want to worry about how you might not trust me yet. I want to make sure you do. Because that’s the foundation of relationships.” He sounds confident about all of this. What podcasts does he listen to? I don’t know whether I should be concerned or impressed.

“Jesus take the wheel.” I do the sign of the cross before putting on my helmet. “You may have called me God last night, but I’m the only one behind the wheel today.” The smug man fucking winks.

“Damn, I didn’t hear you scream like that last night. Do I need to change my technique?” “You perv! This is terrifying. Oh my God. How do you do this all the time? How is this even legal?” I’d slap his arm if I wasn’t plastered to the side of the car. “I love it. Just relax and enjoy.” His voice does nothing to calm me. “Never tell a woman to relax!” I scream again as we drift on another turn.

“Do you trust me yet?” “I trust that you’re secretly a psycho. What kind of first date is this? Haven’t you ever seen an episode of The Bachelor? This date is not Chris Harrison approved!”

“To answer your question from before, yes I’ve seen The Bachelor. I took notes. This is the first of many for us, so I had to make it unforgettable.” He hits me with a devilish grin before I flash him one of my own.

Maya and I haven’t talked about titles yet. We only hashed things out two weeks ago in Singapore. But everything about us feels title-worthy because we spend lots of time together whenever Santiago isn’t around. In my bed, in hers, in one of the private suites, and secret dates in the cities we visit. My sex drive with Maya rivals that of an eighteen-year-old.

“You need to stop sighing every time Steve is on the screen. This crush has gotten out of hand.” My heart surges at the sound of her laugh. A weird feeling I’ve grown accustomed to whenever I hang around Maya, similar to how my dick gets rock-hard whenever she gets near me. “I can’t help it. That hair, his babysitting skills. Even his personality. Sigh.” How the mighty have fallen, becoming jealous over a TV character. “I can babysit. And my hair is definitely better. Personality? I sure as fuck hope mine’s nicer seeing as I’m a real person. And I am older, wiser. I can fucking kick ass with a baseball bat.” I flex my arms around her for emphasis. “What does older and wiser have to do with the appeal?” Her chest shakes against mine. She’s totally teasing me. So I do what any logical man would do in my position. I shut off the TV and show her exactly how more experience comes with age. She stops complaining about the show the moment my lips find her clit.

A magnetic energy flows around us, always pulling me back toward her. Not that I want to stay away.

Talk about the best fucking feeling, to turn her on with minimal effort required.

Her wild eyes and messy hair drive me crazy. Nothing compares to satiating the hunger between us, being able to please her to the point of oblivion.

She’s perfect. All so motherfucking perfect.

“Always ready for me. Tell me, do you get this way while watching me race? Does it turn you on?” She nods her head, the silent admission exciting me. “It’s a dangerous sport. High speeds. Collisions.” I leave a path of kisses down her spine.

“I’ll let you in on a secret though… Fucking you is the equivalent of winning a World Championship. I could never win again and be perfectly fine so long as you’re by my side. In my bed. Me inside of you. I like you a lot.”

She’s heaven. Perfect for me.

I want her to know I’m the only one who can fuck her like this, make her feel like this. I want to ruin her for any man who dares to try to come after me.

I fuck her like she’s the last woman on Earth. Because to me, she might as well be.

I could come right there at the sight of her. But I don’t. Because good guys finish last.

“I think you’ve ruined me.” Her whispered voice rings through the quiet. Shit. That’s the best thing I’ve heard all day.

Over the past few races, I’ve caught myself cheering for him as much as I do with Santi.

My chest tightens at the thought of acting similarly to him. I want to forget the countless girls, the cockiness, and my attitude. To protect myself, I gave up bits and pieces until I was void of feeling. Deception plays cruel jokes on people. Turns out while I busied myself with putting on a show, I was the person I lied most to. Eventually I believed all the deceits, the excuses I made for my shitty attitude and moodiness, becoming the asshole I was escaping.

Maya breathes new life into me, not wanting to piece me together but accepting all my jagged parts. Waking up next to her makes my mornings, not because of her phenomenal blowjobs, but for the special smile she gives me when I hit her snooze button five times. I love the way she lies in bed reading books in the middle of the day, unbothered and shooing me away when she hits a good part. She brushes off my gruff attitude with a smile and a kiss because I can be a moody asshole when I don’t place first—conditioned because of the shitty man sitting in front of me. Most of all, I like how she makes me want to be a better person. For her, for me, for the whole goddamn world.