Throttled (Dirty Air Series Book 1)

“No way. I’m not getting on that thing.” I cross my two index fingers in front of me in an X. If only my mom could see me making responsible decisions. She’d be proud.

“Live a little.” Noah’s eyes gleam while mine narrow, not sharing his amused look. He looks eerie with a flickering light above our heads, foreshadowing this bad idea.

A shiny motorbike brings a frown to my face, the steel gray paint polished and sleek, like an alien spaceship. It should come with a warning label.

Hell, Noah should have a walking, talking warning sign.

We wage a battle of wills in the parking garage of the hotel we’re both staying at with Bandini. The garage makes the perfect place to meet up for our date since we can avoid the paparazzi and my brother. Just Noah, me, and a dimly lit lot. I don’t have my usual chaperones keeping me in check. Much to Sophie’s dismay earlier, I declined her invitation to third wheel our date. Appreciate her loyalty though.

“Come on. It’s not scary. I promise.”

I roll my eyes. Anyone will say that to get me on the back of a contraption.

He steps toward me, wearing down my defenses. He talks low and slow to me like I’m a scared dog in an alleyway.

I push my lower lip out and cross my arms, not above pouting to get my way. If it works on my parents, then it could work on Noah.

But he doesn’t take the bait. I need to work on my delivery because it sucks.

“Don’t make me carry you onto it. I’ve driven motorcycles since I was thirteen. I’m still alive.” He waves down his body, bringing my attention to his leather jacket and dark jeans. His outfit screams bad boy in every good kind of way. Instead of making me feel better, he distracts me with his tight-fitting shirt, which accentuates his firm muscles.

How does he make casual look so good?

“Is that supposed to make me feel better? That’s illegal! Who in their right mind would let a child on a motorbike?” Did anyone ever watch over him as a kid?

He chuckles, not bothering to address my comment. Instead, he grabs a black helmet from the seat and puts it on my head, adjusting the straps to fit my chin. I’d consider it a lovely gesture if my heart wasn’t in my throat at the moment.

I wasn’t exactly expecting this when he told me to wear jeans and a comfortable top earlier.

“You’re one hard date to please,” he grumbles.

I’d rather not have my body splayed across a street like roadkill.

“Have you even been on a real date? Usually normal people go to a restaurant, have dinner, and end it all with a kiss. Stay within the comfort zone.” I paint a picture for him since he seems like a visual kind of guy.

His chest rumbles with laughter. “I’ve dated before, but I’m far from normal. Why wine and dine you? I’m going to get what I want anyway.” He waggles his brows.

Well, excuse me. I can’t ignore the pang of jealousy when he mentions other dates. For once, his arrogant attitude wears on me.

Who does he think he is? Sex with me is not a given because I am not one of his bimbos. I don’t hand that shit out like Halloween candy.

“That’s one of the worst things a first date has ever told me.”

Another hand tugs through his hair as he sighs. He may be sharp on the racetrack, but his people skills suck. I withhold the temptation to stick my tongue out at him because it’ll encourage him more.

“It gets cold with the wind. Take my jacket.” He slides the leather jacket off his back and passes it to me. The moment I put it on, a smell that’s distinctly his with a hint of leather surrounds me. It calms me down a teensy bit.

“Please do this for me? It’ll be fun, I promise. If you hate it, I’ll park the bike and order us an Uber.”

His sincerity does me in. I accept my fate and walk up to the spaceship.

It’s one date.

I sigh. “All right. Because you asked nicely.”

He gives me a wicked grin.

I’m so screwed.

Five minutes later, we speed down one of Baku’s seaside streets. The smell of the ocean relaxes me as the city lights blur past us. Lucky for him, I don’t suffer from motion sickness because this bike hits maximum speeds. I grip onto Noah’s waist for dear life as tires tear across the pavement. My hands accidentally brush up against his abs, and I casually run a finger across them, interested in counting the ridges. He laughs at my failed attempt to be subtle. The rumbling sensation of the motorbike beneath my ass and touching his abs is turning me on.

Did he plan this on purpose? My body presses up against him and my arms wrap around him, leaving no space. Even my legs plaster tightly against his to make sure I don’t fall off. If it wasn’t risky, I’d wrap them around him as an extra safety precaution. The whole situation comes across as intimate despite my bubbling anxiety.

Everything feels different with only Noah and me. No press, no friends, no distractions. We strip away all the extra stuff getting in the way of us spending alone time together.

He streams music through a pair of speakers, making the whole experience much more enjoyable than I thought. Ocean mist hits my face as we get closer to the beach, and I love every second of it. I won’t admit it to his face though because he gets to gloat enough as it is.

Noah eventually pulls the bike into a secluded area by the shore. I hop off, anxious to break our physical connection. My chest tightens at the scene in front of us.

A couple of lanterns outline a picnic area, looking unexpectedly romantic.

“Just fun?” I mumble under my breath, the date not screaming casual to me.

“Relax. Don’t make a big deal out of it.” He grabs my hand and pulls me toward the colorful blanket.

I settle into one of the cushions on the sand. A picnic basket is open off to the side, along with a bucket with chilled wine. The sound of waves crashing against the shore makes the perfect soundtrack.

A wave of uneasiness threatens to take away my happiness. Noah’s lips say casual, but his actions speak differently. People propose in less cute ways. I take a deep breath of the salty ocean air to calm me down, hoping a few inhales can cure my insecurity about Noah’s intentions.

“How did you plan all of this?”

“I had a little help.” He shoots me a rare shy smile.

“Right. Busy life of an F1 driver.” It impresses me how he made an effort to make sure something nice was planned.

“We can pretend for a night that none of that exists. No talk of your brother and no bringing up Baku. You’re a girl and I’m a guy on a normal date.” He flashes me his usual mischievous smile.

Did I say he looks like trouble already? Still waiting on the warning label.

I agree to his terms. We eat together, talking about anything and everything. He tells me about his favorite TV shows and the best cities in America. I say how I’ve never been there, and he insists I need to go at least once, offering to show me around and take me to the best food places. I tell him about my failed attempts at graduating on time, being held back a year after I figured out I wasn’t meant to be a Spanish Elle Woods attending Harvard.

“Let’s play a game.” Noah hits me with a mischievous grin.

“Seriously?”

“Dead serious. Ever heard of two truths and a lie?”

I roll my eyes with minimal effort. “What are you, eighteen and attending your first college party?”

Noah lets out a rough laugh. “I never went to college. Entertain me?”

I nod because I’d do just about anything with him smiling at me the way he does.

“Whoever loses has to chug straight from the wine bottle for five seconds.” His smile reaches his blue eyes as the candlelight flickers across his skin.

“Okay, since this is your bright idea to get me tipsy, you can go first.”

He chuckles to himself. “I’m an only child. I spend thirty minutes a day watching the news. And I lost my virginity in the back of a pickup truck.”

I cough at his last statement, aware of how this game will go after one round.

“Pickup truck is a lie. You look like a thousand-thread-count kind of guy.”

His eyes light up. “Nope. You got it wrong. I hate the news, so I stay away from that shit.”

Well, damn. Guess Noah is an American boy after all, getting down and dirty in the bed of a truck. I grab the wine bottle and take a chug, holding up a finger for each second that ticks by.

“Your turn.” He winks at me.

“My brother announced his Bandini contract on the same day as my graduation. I’ve gotten into five fender benders. I crashed my brother’s first date.”

“Five fender benders? That’s excessive for someone young.”

I shake my head and point to the bottle sitting next to us. “Nope. I never crashed my brother’s first date even though my parents wanted me to. Santi paid me fifty euros to watch a different movie. He got his hookup while I got a new pair of shoes.”

“One, how do you still have a license? And two, your brother told everyone about his Bandini deal on your special day? How fucked up,” Noah says before taking a chug from the bottle I drank from, his lips wrapped around the same spot mine touched.

I shrug. “I can still drive because the officer felt bad when I cried, begging me to stop. And Santi couldn’t help the bad timing.”

“Sometimes he can be a real dumbass. He could have waited a day at least.”

Guilt runs through me at us talking about Santi this way because I love my brother. Noah doesn’t care much for him. Stupid to hope they could get along—for the sake of the team or for me.

“He has the best heart. Truly. I can’t get mad at him for more than a day at most. Not even when he stole all my Barbies and shaved their hair off.”

“That should have been the first sign of his instability.”

A loud laugh escapes my mouth. We play a few more rounds with me losing a couple times while Noah guesses my lies with ease, surprising me how he sees through my bullshit. Wine calms my nerves and takes away my awkwardness. I learn a few things about Noah like how he skipped senior prom because of a race, and how he spent seven different Christmases by himself since his parents were both traveling. A truth I guessed as a lie because who spends the holidays alone?

We move on from our game. I share the success of my vlog, and how for the first time, I feel like I found my place. How I don’t worry as much anymore about being successful or comparing myself to Santi’s career.

“What’s your favorite part of the vlog?” He gives me his full attention, his blue eyes wandering over my face.

“Mm, that’s a tough question. It originally started out as a travel vlog, but now everyone loves how I work with F1 and Bandini. Fans seem to be super into it. And they’re constantly sending me new ideas of things to do or people to interview.”

“I wonder if I’m the best part.” His cheeky grin makes me show one of my own.

“I doubt it because people beg for Liam and Jax. Must be their accents.”

He scoffs. “It’s tough to compete with Jax’s British accent. Liam on the other hand… German tends to lack sexiness.”

I shake my head from side to side because Liam sounds fine. “There’s a reason people like Prince Harry. Or any attractive British guy.”

“You find Jax attractive?” His tight smile tells me I didn’t say the right thing.

“I mean, people find him attractive. But I went on a double date with him and realized he’s not my type.” I trip over my own words, wanting to put them out there.

“It wasn’t a double date because I was there. That makes it automatically friends hanging out.” His eyes glint in the soft lighting.

“Liam’s been asking Sophie for a redo, but she keeps saying no.”

“We don’t want that to happen,” his voice rumbles.

When did he get close to me? Our hands are practically touching.

“And why not?” Another breathy sentence from me.

“Because I already called dibs on you.” His intense gaze makes me shudder.

“You can’t call dibs on people. You sound like a B-list rom-com.”

“But I fuck like an A-list porno.”

Okay then. Who says romance is dead? My throat tightens as his eyes lower, taking me in. He closes the space between us.

A hand tugs my head toward him. Our lips meet. But unlike our first kiss, this one demands. Noah takes everything from me all at once, his lips brushing against mine, intense and irresistible. This somehow beats our first kiss. We have no one around to stop us, no interruptions to pull us away from each other this time.

One of his hands grips my hair and tugs. The quick bite of pain makes me gasp, giving his tongue access to my mouth. It strokes mine possessively, branding me, not giving me a second to overthink anything. My tongue meets his and strokes back. I want to taste him and make him crave me just as much.

My fingers run through his hair and he groans when I grip the silky strands. I want to pull him in closer, desperate for what he can give me. My body hums with approval as he fucks with my brain and heart at once.

If this was a movie, now would be the moment for cheesy fireworks to go off in the background.

My back hits the blanket and my hands travel across his chest, checking out the different muscles. He doesn’t let up on his own exploration, his hands roaming down my body while our tongues stroke one another. I feel lightheaded from the contact.

I moan when he cups my breasts. My nipples brush against the fabric of my bra, wishing for the barrier to be gone, another obstacle we don’t need. My body pushes into his, frantic for more.

His mouth leaves mine. Rough fingers find the hem of my shirt at the same time his lips find my neck. The nipping, licking, and sucking sensations drive me crazy. His mouth does wild things to my body. Aroused doesn’t begin to describe the intense burn inside of me as my breasts grow heavy with need and my core throbs.

I rub myself against his hardened length. My jeans feel rough against my thong, temporary friction giving me some relief. Fingers clutch the hard muscles of his back before my nails scratch against the fabric of his shirt.

“You’re going to make me embarrass myself if you keep grinding against my cock,” he mumbles before returning his attention to my neck. His lips move toward my chest. A new task.

My cheeks heat at his disclosure. But it feels great to make him desire me because this man makes me feel a whole lot of things. The good, the bad, and the absolute dirtiest.

“Don’t get shy on me now. Fuck that.” His lips meet mine again, this time with a soft and intimate kiss. I find myself unprepared for any of these feelings, Noah overwhelming me. Kissing him feels like so much more.

I regain consciousness and place both of my hands on his chest, pushing him softly. He gets the hint and lifts off me.

“Ah, your brain caught up to you. It was fun while it lasted.” He rubs a thumb against my swollen lips.

“I don’t do this type of thing.” My hands gesture between the two of us.

“And what is that?” He inches closer again. I hold up a hand, making him pause. His lips distract me and make me want to kiss them again. But I need to get this out before it’s too late.

“This. I don’t do casual. Random hookups.” Hell no. Not after kisses that set me on fire and make my brain numb.

He abandons his seductive mood. His grimace makes me second-guess my reasoning, and for a brief moment, I’m afraid about making the wrong decision. I may be irresponsible with other things, but I need to lock my heart up around someone like him. Stay true to my values.

Noah is the type to unwillingly chip off pieces of my armor until I have nothing left. If his kisses make me mindless, I can’t imagine what other things with him will do to me. No one told me how much it sucks to be responsible and honest.

“Why not? We can call it quits when the season’s over. No harm done.”

I seriously doubt that because I can tell from a couple of kisses that’s not the case. It hurts to hear him be cavalier about it, but it’s not unexpected from someone like him.

His reaction gives me more strength about my decision.

“Uh. I don’t think that’s true. At least for me. I don’t want to catch feelings for someone who isn’t looking for a relationship. I’m not that type of girl, a no-strings-attached person.” I clasp my hands on my lap, preventing any fidgeting. I’ve only had a handful of exclusive boyfriends in my life.

“Feelings?” His voice gives away his aversion to the idea.

Note to self: he’s not a fan of that F word.

“Yes, feelings. People like you leave a trail of broken hearts behind. I don’t want to be one of them, another notch in your damaged bedpost.”

“I’m not looking for a girlfriend. I have a crazy schedule and racing is my life, so I can’t promise you anything but something sexual. And that we’ll have the best sex you’ve ever had in your life. I can tell by our connection.”

My exact worry. Looking at him weakens my resolve, but I need to stay strong.

“I’m the type who needs more than a physical relationship with someone. I’m not the booze-and-banging type you usually hang around with. I can’t change who I am to be what you want.”

“You’re really going to deny yourself this?” His reaction shows me how no one denies him. Evidence of his messed-up childhood, the ultimate only-child syndrome shining through. He trails a finger down my neck toward my chest. I gasp at the scorching sensation his finger leaves behind, unhappy how my body becomes aware of his touch instantaneously. It’s a shame to deny what my body craves.

“Yes.” My panting voice doesn’t exude the firmness I need it to. I swat his hands away, ending his spell.

“We can stay friends. Not the benefits kind though, but I’ll avoid you less.” I nod, convincing myself that this is the right decision. My honesty about avoiding him feels like progress.

“Right.” His blank expression fills me with dread. Am I making the right decision?

Our dinner went well. Comfortable and easy, something that feels like it can be much more than a casual fling. But people like him don’t fall in love. I don’t need to open myself up to potential misery with someone from Bandini.

Noah gets up and reaches out for my hand. My skin warms at his touch. Yup. I absolutely made the right choice because this is a one-way ticket to heartache. We walk through the sand toward his motorbike. I look back at the picnic area, my heart tightening at the abandoned sight of it. Despite the less than ideal ending, this was one of the best dates I’ve ever been on and I’ll always remember it.

I put on the helmet and his jacket without a fight, a chill running through me at this ending. The smell of him is intoxicating and unfair like it’s wrong to breathe in.

Noah stays quiet as he gets on the bike, his mind drifting off to somewhere else, erecting a wall between us. I don’t give him a hard time getting on. He starts up the engine, and we take off back toward the hotel. The ride feels shorter as if Noah’s desperate to get us back. I don’t take it personally.

He drops me off in the parking garage shortly after, pulling the motorbike up to the elevator like a gentleman.

“If it were another life, I’d probably do right by you. I’d take you on dates and try harder. But that’s not who I am or how I was raised. I don’t know how to be the kind of emotional guy you desire.”

My eyes water, clouding my vision. Everything feels final. We’ve circled one another for three months, and now it’s over, gone in the blink of an eye. I respect him for sharing and being honest about who he is.

“Thank you for a great date. It’ll be a hard one to top, even with everything.” I sneakily inhale one last breath of his jacket before passing it back to him.

“Likewise.” His cocky grin doesn’t exactly reach his eyes.

“I better get going. Santi will be wondering where I went for so long.”

He presses the button. “Yeah, sure.” His arms pull me in for a hug while his lips brush softly against mine, giving me a goodbye kiss that should be reserved for lovers—intimate, kind, and packed with unspoken words. My heart perks up before he pulls away.

Elevator doors open, the empty car a welcoming sight. I walk in and turn around.

“Bye, Noah. See you tomorrow.”

His intense gaze is the last thing I see before the doors close.