Drifting Deception (On the Grid, #2)

Chapter Twenty-Six

Henry watched as I struggled with the straps before coming to my assistance. He gave my head a gentle wiggle to ensure everything was attached.

And then it was time.

"Fuck, if I scream will you hear me through this?" I asked as I strapped my seatbelt across my shaking body.

Henry looked over at me, his soft eyes shining through the visor of his helmet. "I will. The second you want this to be over, you yell, stop, okay?"

I nodded, biting my tongue as the roar of the engines shook the car. My body jolted as we drove onto the circuit, and I felt my stomach sink. I glanced at the speedometer. Fifty kilometres. God, I was pathetic, we hadn't even started yet. We drove for a few more metres at the same pace before Henry adjusted in his seat and lowered his foot onto the accelerator.

I felt my stomach drop as we gained speed down the straight. To my left, I could see we were inching close to a hundred and fifty ks. The first chicane took me by surprise, and I was almost certain we would crash into the wall ahead. That was until the car jolted at the last second and set our sights back on the long track ahead. We continued weaving down the road, and I didn't realise I was silent until Henry asked if I was okay.

I nodded, looking at our speed which had now crossed over two hundred. My foot nervously tapped on the floor of the car as we began another lap. I couldn't believe he did this over seventy times, and at a much greater speed.

It was fun, nonetheless. Something about Henry made me calm, and as we completed our fifth lap, I realised I didn't have the fear in my lower stomach anymore.

"Woo-hoo," I screamed as we crossed the line where the checked flag would be this Sunday. "This is fucking awesome!"

I heard Henry chuckle as he pressed the gas again.

"Two hundred and twenty?" I screamed. "Holy shit."

We zoomed in and out of the turns at a pace that would make my mother shriek. But it was amazing. Invigorating, even. I could understand why my dad fell in love with motor racing. The sport may have taken his life, but he passed away doing something he absolutely enjoyed. I truly believe he wouldn't have retired until his body was physically unable to sit in the driver's seat.

After our tenth and final lap, Henry pulled into the pitlane and unclasped his helmet. He helped me remove mine before I caught sight of my flushed cheeks and helmet hair in the side mirror.

"Oh no," I shrieked.

Henry laughed, and I saw that he looked just as flustered. The difference was that he was hot. Like...so hot.

"How'd you find that?" he asked.

I clapped my hands together. "That was the coolest fucking thing I've ever done."

"The coolest fucking thing? Well, I'm glad." He unclipped his seatbelt and leaned over the console to kiss me lightly. I kissed him back, moaning quietly as he deepened the kiss. If there weren't ten other people standing around our car, who knows what we would've gotten up to. I was feeling extremely turned on after the adrenaline rush...and judging by the smirk that accompanied the hand covering his groin, I had a feeling he was too.

"Want to grab a coffee at the motorhome?" he said once he pulled away.

I nodded. "Please. I'm ready to ramble about how awesome that was."

We walked hand-in-hand to the Santoro cafeteria. The room was empty, except for the barista, Scott.

"Afternoon team," he said chirpily.

"Hey," we said in unison.

Henry walked closer to the man. "Two cappuccinos, please. One with trim milk."