Burnout (The Holland Brothers Book 1)

My hands shake as I pull on the heavy helmet. I flip up the visor so he can see my eyes. He grins back, an approving glint in his hazel eyes. Then he scoots forward to make room for me behind him.

“Where are we going?” I ask as I climb onto the motorcycle. It is not easy in a dress.

“For a ride.” He revs the engine. “Hold on tight, princess.”

That’s the only warning I get before he takes off. I yelp and grab hold of his jacket on either side of his waist. I lean in closer as the wind whips around us, burrowing my front into his warm back. My pulse accelerates along with the bike as he pulls out of the parking lot. I smile into the night, loving the feel of wrapping myself around him while he navigates through town and then onto a quieter, two-lane highway.

My fear lessens, but the butterflies in my stomach and the ache between my legs grow under the rumble of the seat. It’s like doing a somersault on beam, but with a hot, shirtless guy staring at you while you do. Or maybe that’s just the fantasy that’s worked its way into my head since Knox started coming to the gym.

I’m not sure how long or how far we ride. There’s an ease in being with Knox like this, where nothing is expected of me. Get on, wear the helmet, hold on tight. Easy. And exhilarating.

The motorcycle slows as we turn off onto a dirt road. There’s nothing as far as I can see until suddenly there is. A track of some kind. Abandoned or in rough shape, I’m not sure which. As we get closer, I can see the track itself is in good shape. It’s just everything around it that’s in shambles. Rickety-looking bleachers, a shed that was once maybe used to store supplies but now is leaning so far right that I’m certain one shove and it’d fall over.

A crowd of people are parked just off the track. Motorcycles in an array of colors with their riders perched on them. And other guys and girls standing around them. There are more people sitting in the center of the track on blankets, coolers littered around them. It takes me a second to realize I’m seeing Knox’s party spot. This is where he comes to hang out. I’d bet on it. Especially judging by the unimpressed glares aimed at me from several of the girls watching as Knox pulls onto the track. He stops when we reach the front of the crowd.

One of the guys standing nearby walks over to him. “Knox Holland. I didn’t think you were going to make it tonight.”

“Change of plans.”

The guy gives me a cursory glance, but his attention quickly darts to the bike and he whistles. “Well, all right. I’ll let everyone know.”

“Thanks.”

The guy walks backward slowly, smiling at Knox. “I’ll give you twenty bucks if you let me drive her around.”

“I wouldn’t let you lay a finger on her for twenty bucks.”

“The bike or the girl?” He smirks and lets his gaze slide over to me.

Knox gets off the bike and holds out a hand to me. “Either, but especially not the girl.”

I’m struggling to figure out how to get off without flashing anyone. Knox notices and silently steps in front of me, blocking me out of view from everyone but him.

Quickly and without thinking about how I’m probably still flashing him, I throw my leg over and stand in front of him. He places both hands on either side of the helmet and gently lifts it up.

“Helmet hair,” I say with a laugh as I run my fingers through my tangled hair.

“You look stunning.” He brushes a blonde strand out of my face and tucks it behind my ear, then sets the helmet on his bike and then takes my hand. He guides me down to the center of the track. “Come on. It’s about to start.”

“Wait.” I glance back. Next to his motorcycle, three others have parked. Their riders are watching us, and it could be my imagination, but they look nervous. “Are we going to watch a race?”

My heart speeds up.

“You are,” he says.

I don’t quite catch his meaning before he pulls me toward two girls sitting on an orange and blue flannel blanket. I recognize the redhead as the rider on Colter’s team. “You remember Brooklyn?”

“Uh, yeah. Hi.” I raise a hand in a wave. She doesn’t reciprocate except to lift both dark brows at me.

“Stay with her, okay?” Knox asks, then without waiting for an answer, he turns to leave.

I catch him a few steps away. “Wait. You’re racing?”

He’s so casual and calm, stopping and facing me like he has all the time in the world. When I know that isn’t true. It’s so obvious now. The other guys are waiting for him, revving their engines impatiently.

“Don’t worry. It won’t take long. I’ll be back before you can miss me.” He tosses me a wink and then turns, finally breaking into a jog as he heads back to his motorcycle. I stand watching him until he pulls on his helmet and starts the bike, then I walk back over to Brooklyn. She tips her head toward an empty space on the blanket with a look that I wouldn’t exactly call inviting.

“This is Tate,” she says, motioning toward the blonde girl on the other side of her.

“Hi. I’m Avery.”

Tate waves, but then our attention all goes to the guys preparing to take off.

“Are the other riders any good?” I ask without peeling my eyes from Knox. What I mean is, are they as good as he is, but I don’t know how to ask that without sounding like a fangirl.

“Fletcher used to race Moto GP,” Brooklyn says, and when it’s clear I don’t know what that is, she snorts. “He’s good.”

“So is Bobby,” Tate adds. “But Knox has only been beaten once and I heard that he had the flu that day or something.”

“Knox probably started that rumor himself.” Brooklyn flashes me an amused smile. “Your boy is good, and he wouldn’t have brought you here if he thought he’d lose.”

My stomach dips and my face warms. “He’s not mine. We’re just hanging out. I’m training him.”

“Oh, I know.” Her smirk stays put. “The guys on the team gossip more than I do. Until tonight, I thought ‘training him’ was code for sex.”

“Like I was sleeping with him to help him ride better?” I ask, voice too high-pitched as I ignore the throbbing between my legs at the thought.

“It’s not totally ludicrous. Sex is good for confidence, which is key when you’re free-falling with your bike,” she says with a shrug, then looks me over closely. “But you look too wound up to be fucking him.”

My mind reels and I am utterly lost for words. I manage to mutter, “Oh. Yeah, no. I’m not sleeping with him.”

“Not yet, anyway.” She refocuses on the track.

I wonder what they’ve said that’s led her to believe Knox and I are sleeping together. What has Knox said? I also wonder just how well she knows Knox. Is she speaking from experience? Not that I doubt sleeping with Knox would loosen up a girl. If he’s half as good at sex as he is at acting like an annoying asshole, then I understand why he’s so cocky.

“He’s made some improvements though. Whatever you’re doing with him, it seems to be helping.” Something tells me that’s as close to a compliment as I’ll ever get from her. I guess if she wants to think it’s my magical vagina that’s helping him and not the training, so be it. Not the worst thing someone’s thought of me.

A woman in short black shorts and a red halter top walks onto the track holding a black and white checkered flag. Knox flips his visor down and leans forward, grasping the handles. His back tire spins and smoke plumes out behind him.

The girl lifts the flag above her head. Her body is insane. She’s curvy and not afraid to flaunt it, but something tells me none of the guys are noticing right now. Even without seeing Knox’s eyes, I know they’re laser-focused in front of him.

The moon is hidden behind the clouds. Tall sky lights shine down on each turn. None of them have all the bulbs, but it’s enough to make the black track visible in the night.

My heart races in anticipation. In one swift motion, the woman lowers the flag, and the three motorcycles take off. They speed by so fast it’s hard to keep track of them. Not that I really try to follow anyone except Knox. My entire body is coiled tight as I watch him lead the pack around once and then twice.

I can barely watch, but I can’t take my eyes off him either. He’s going so fast. One wrong move, one slip of his attention could be disastrous. My stomach is in knots and my pulse races along beside him.

On the last lap, Knox pulls slightly ahead, but the other two are right on his tail. They’re so close to him I’m not sure how they don’t crash.

On the final turn, my heart is in my throat. I stand. Brooklyn and Tate do too.

“You got this,” I hear Brooklyn say quietly to herself. “Punch it.”

Almost like he’s heard her, Knox’s bike seems to find another gear than the other two and he puts distance between them as he speeds past the finish line.

I let out a whoosh of air. Oh my god, he won. I jump and clutch Brooklyn’s arm. “He won!”

She eyes my hand.

“Sorry.” I let go quickly and she wears an amused smile.

Brooklyn cups her hands around her mouth and yells, “Nice job, Holland.”

Then she looks back at me. “Better go get your boy before someone else gives him his victory kiss.”

“Victory kiss?” Tate asks, then she says, “Oh, right. The victory kiss. Yeah, it’s not an official win until he’s made out with at least one girl after crossing the finish line.”

I don’t bother commenting on my thoughts about that. I do not want to think about Knox kissing other girls right now. I start for him as fast as my legs can carry me. He’s going around the track another time, slower now. I reach the edge of the finish line as he’s crossing it again. He turns his bike sharply to the side and as Brooklyn warned, he’s flocked with girls congratulating him as soon as he stops. Some guys too, but the girls are more insistent and standing closer than I’d like.

He takes it all in as he climbs off his bike and removes his helmet. Guys pat him on the back and girls press their tits into his arm. I stand back and let him soak it all up, even as I glower at the girls. Did they not see me ride in with him? I guess that’s not fair since we’re not a thing, but still. Basic decency. Keep your mitts off my…whatever Knox is to me.

He cuts through the group, acknowledging people but not stopping as he makes his way to me. His hair is wilder. So is his smile.

“Congratulations,” I say when he reaches me.

“Thanks, princess.”

I step forward and hug him. God, he smells good. Like leather and metal and sex. The really dirty, amazing kind of sex.

Brooklyn steps up beside me. “Nice ride. I wasn’t sure you were going to punch it in time.”

“You should never doubt me,” he tells her playfully.

“Right. Of course. The great Knox Holland.” She rolls her eyes and stalks off.

“She’s a bundle of sunshine,” I say wryly.

“She’s pretty cool once you get to know her.”

“So, uh, Brooklyn said something about it not being official until you’ve claimed your victory kiss.”

“Victory kiss?” His brows lift. “And you want to be the one I claim it from? Is that what you’re saying?”

“You did win.” I shrug. “And you’re in charge tonight, remember? So whatever you want.”

“That’s a dangerous thing to say to me, princess.” He lowers his voice. “I’d have you bent over my bike so fast you wouldn’t know which way was up.”

His words make heat pool low in my stomach and my breath catches in my throat. “I’m not sure I’d mind that so much. In fact, I think I’d like it very much.”

His eyes darken and he studies my face, maybe reading my seriousness. I’m so serious. He stays close. I can feel the heat radiating off him. One hand moves to my cheek. He’s wearing gloves and the warm leather feels decadent. His thumb strokes my skin and then his hand drops to my neck as he eliminates the rest of the space between us.

His eyes never leave me. I’ve stopped breathing. “You want me to kiss you?”

I’m not capable of speaking, so I nod.

“That’s not an answer.”

“Yes.” I manage to get out the word. Or I think I do. I can’t hear it over the blood rushing and thrumming in my ears. I know it’s not a great idea to make out with Knox while I’m training him, but there’s already this tension between us. How much worse could it get if we kiss a little?

The seconds tick by and he still doesn’t move until I add, “Kiss me, Knox.”

He makes a tsking sound and his head lowers. “You just can’t help but boss me around, can you?”

Oops.

“Luckily, what we want right now is the same.” His lips take mine. Hard and controlling from the moment they touch me. I open immediately and his tongue sweeps in, stroking mine. A person could get lost in Knox’s kisses. I do. I never want to stop.

I grab a fistful of his jacket, trying to tug him closer. He’s in charge and rough, but still somehow gentle in the way he caresses my face. I’m not sure how long he kisses me like that, but when he finally eases up, the world around us comes back into focus. People talking, laughing, the sound of engines and tires on the track.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” he says, voice gruff, as I’m still reeling from the loss of his mouth on mine.

My legs are like jelly as he takes my hand and pulls me with him toward his motorcycle. I have to jog to keep up with him. There’s a small crowd of guys standing around and drinking near his bike. When we get there, Knox lets go of my hand to grab his helmet. Slowly and carefully, he lowers it onto my head. As if I’m not dying to get out of here. His kisses promised so much more and I am eager for it all. I push back all other worries. They’ll still be there tomorrow while this moment feels fleeting.

“On the bike, princess. And don’t flash anyone in the process.”

Not an easy feat, but I climb on while holding my dress tight in front of me.

Knox is about to get on himself when one of the guys stumbles over. “Legendary Knox Holland does it again.” His tone is playful, bordering on mocking. “Guess it’s easy to win when you’ve got sponsors throwing money at you and paying for all the best equipment.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Knox tries to ignore him, but the guy claps him on the shoulder and stops Knox from getting on the bike.

“Oh, that’s right. They dumped your ass.” The guy waggles a finger around like he’s reprimanding a child. “You really need to get that temper of yours in check.”

Knox’s jaw flexes, but otherwise he looks unaffected and calm. “Get lost, Justin. You’re drunk and making an ass of yourself.”

The guy waves it off, staggering a little as if proving Knox’s point. “I saw your old man hanging around here the other day.”

I see the way Knox tenses. It’s only for a fraction of a second and then the mask of indifference quickly slams down, but it was there.

“Good for you,” Knox says, shrugging out of his hold and throwing one leg over the bike.

“You wanna talk about making an ass of yourself, he was trying to get people to race him like he isn’t an over-the-hill burnout.” The guy’s gaze snaps to me as Knox lets one hand drop to my leg. I can feel the edge in his touch. It’s soft, but solid. He needs something to anchor him and I’m happy to be that. I doubt he even realizes he’s done it.

Unfortunately, the guy decides to try one last attempt at pissing off Knox. Why? I’m not sure. Knox is taller, broader, and this guy doesn’t look like he could fight my brother.

“Expensive bike, expensive pussy. What’d he pay for you, honey? And can I get on a payment plan? I’m no Knox Holland, but he’ll be washed up in a year or two anyway.” He smiles and laughs at his own joke.

Knox is off the bike before I know it, stalking toward him and pushing him. “Stop fucking talking.”

The guy is caught off guard, though he shouldn’t be. He poked the bear. He stumbles back and falls on his ass. For reasons I can’t comprehend, the guy is still smiling.

“Knox,” I say, voice barely above a whisper, when he balls his hands into fists at his side. Everyone is watching now. Knox could kill this guy in a fight. It wouldn’t even be close.

Brooklyn emerges from the crowd and rests a hand on his arm. He flinches and then focuses his attention like he wasn’t aware of anyone else around. She flicks her head toward me, and Knox turns on his heel. He gets on the motorcycle and starts it, pulling away before the guy gets to his feet.