Off the Grid (Full Throttle, #1)

by K. Bromberg

I stare at him standing before me, in my hotel room, looking at me as if asking whether I’m sure I want to do this.

We walked down the hallway toward our rooms.

he followed me inside. I didn’t protest.

Makes me crave his kiss and his touch and the feeling of our skin sliding against one another’s.

things that I tolerated before. Tolerated to make the person I was dating feel good.

Nerve endings that I thought were dead and gone forever are detonating.

I’ve waited six years to feel something, anything.

it tore me from my dreams. From my dreams.

saw you with Steele Pennington in Montreal. What’s that all about?”

Is that jealousy I detect from Spencer Riggs? Jealousy that has no business being there.

“Why was he there? With you?”

“Steele likes racing. He’s an avid follower.”

This is quite amusing. He’s fishing and it’s adorable.

“But you left with him. From the event. Out the door.”

He just stands there looking at me. Lips pursed and eyes narrowed. “So where’d you go with him?”

“Why do you care?” I ask. “I don’t.” He shrugs.

I wait until he gets to the entrance of the building before I yell,

was taking him over to find his girlfriend. That’s where we went.”

He hangs his head and his laugh carries to me.

Sex—that I didn’t consent to—is why I’m in this position in the first place.

“There are two things I want, Cami. The one you mentioned—keeping a ride in F1—but I can do that myself.”

“Camilla. Look at me.”

“You. You’re the other thing I want.”

I cry out when the sensations become too much. When I’m overwhelmed and frustrated and everything in between.

he coos, thinking that I’ve climaxed seconds before his strangled, ragged cry fills the room.

And as I acknowledge I can definitely feel more now, sadly, I’m still broken.

Camilla must sense my shock because she shifts onto her side and grabs my face in her hands. “It’s not you,” she says, eyes concerned but cheeks still flushed from the sex I thought she was enjoying.

“No. Listen to me. Please,”

“It’s me. I’m broken. That’s why . . . that’s why I asked you tonight. For this. For sex.”

“Lay it on me Moretti. Time for the truth. Did you have an orgasm?”

I think she’s going to stonewall me, but she shakes her head again softly. “Riggs.” Her voice is barely audible

“You made me feel things I’ve never felt before. Sensations. Aches. Pleasure.

“I could barely ask you for sex, Riggs. Did you expect suggestions when I don’t even know?”

I don’t even know? Her words hit my ears and finally process. “Wait. What did you mean by that?”

“Camilla. You’re naked beneath me. My cock was just in you. It’s resting on your stomach and already wanting to have you again.

you telling me that a guy has never made you come?”

She has a rocking-hot body but wears baggy clothes. Why?

“Camilla, did something happen to you? Before? In the past?”

I want to demand an answer. Need to. But the look in her eyes . . . makes me panic.

What if I could help her orgasm? What if I can make her feel so good? About herself. About sex. Sexy.

What if I could teach her that sex can make her feel good?

For years and years, I’ve let Brandon LeCroix’s actions bind me.

lot of teams have been chasing after them, but they liked our AITA posts and our use of social media to promote the brand so . . . they signed with us.”

“I’m guessing your dad is patting himself on the back right now for bribing you to come work here.”

“He’s not a man who’s satisfied easily.”

says that, but she doesn’t see what I see when I watch

them interact. The pride brimming in Carlo’s eyes as he watches her work ...

“You’re talented as fuck as you showed today by moving up to P4 from your P10 start.

Ignoring your team? It will be your arrogance that will send your ass back down to F2.”

You made a rookie mistake. A huge one. There are no do-overs. No retakes.