The Rules

Laina

There was something about the way Mason looked at me that had me getting wetter by the second—and it wasn’t from the rain. His electric blue eyes lingered at my hips and tits and at the bare strip of skin between my crop top and leggings.

            I didn’t want to cover myself up. I wanted him to look. I was shocked by how much I wanted him to look. Had my brother not been there, I might have taken my jacket off and fallen into his arms and begged him to fuck me in the back seat of his car. The windows were tinted. It would be fine. Right?

            I shook my head.

            Get a grip, Laina. You’re not that kind of girl. You’re the kind of girl a man takes home to his family. The kind of girl who makes soup on Sundays and prefers jeans over dresses.

            But Mason was a whole other level of sexy.

            His blue eyes were just the start. He had sharp, square, masculine features and the beginnings of a five o’clock shadow forming along his jaw and neck. His hair was short and blond and slicked back off his forehead from the rain. A bead of water formed at the tip of his nose and fell as if in slow motion to the pavement.

            I watched him as he chatted with my brother and Rick. They were laughing. I couldn’t look away from his Adam’s apple or his mouth. Good lord. What was wrong with me? I’d seen him plenty of times before, but I’d never been drawn to him like this. This was… madness.

            A loud whistle cut through the crowd. Mason fell silent and turned, putting his back to me, as everyone faced the direction of registration. Harriott Cross, known as Harley by the drivers, was standing on top of her table with her hands cupped to her mouth. She announced that it was quarter to midnight and drivers should be bringing their cars to their starting places.

            Mason shrugged out of his jacket, and I had a hard time keeping from drooling as I stared at his back.

            His shoulders were broad, and his waist tapered in but not dramatically so. His shirt was navy blue and thin enough to show every rippling muscle beneath the fabric as he moved. His shoulder blades were prominent, and I let my gaze wander down his arms, which were thick with muscle and lined with veins that disappeared beneath the sleeves of his shirt.        

            Ginny nudged me. “Put your tongue back in your mouth, girl.”

            I slapped my mouth closed and felt my cheeks begin to burn. Horrified that I’d been so unaware of myself, I thanked her for sparing me the embarrassment.

            “Don’t worry,” Ginny muttered as she looked around. “You’re not the only girl suffering right now. Look around.”

            I did. There were dozens of women nearby who were all watching Mason as he opened the passenger door of the Mustang and tossed his jacket on the seat. He slammed it closed, raked his fingers through his wet hair, and flashed a smile at Rick.

            “Wish me luck, brother,” he said, and the two clasped hands.

            Rick shook his head. “You don’t need luck. You’ve got this in the bag. Just don’t fuck up the damn car. She’s too pretty.”

            Mason released Rick’s hand and patted the roof of the Mustang as he walked around to the driver’s door. “She’s in good hands. I’ll see you when it’s over.”

            Rick nodded, and Mason got into the car.

            We all stepped aside as he drove off through the crowd, which was thinning by the second as everyone went to claim a spot on the sidelines. I fell into step behind the Mustang and followed the path it carved down to the track. Benji, Rick, and Ginny walked with me, and Benji and Rick were talking about Mason’s odds.

            “He’s a shoo-in,” Benji said.

            “Depends who else is racing,” Rick said.

            “Doesn’t matter. He’s not going to lose. Didn’t you see the look in his eye? It was like the old Mason was back.”

            “Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Rick warned. “He’s here to win, sure. But it’s been a long time. There are a lot of triggers here. I’m just glad we haven’t run into Mark or Sid. Or Evelyn. Fuck, that would be bad.”

            “Guess they’re not here tonight,” Benji said.

            I cleared my throat. “Sid Paul is here. I saw him milling around while Ginny and I were taking a lap to look at the cars.”

            “Did he have a yellow sticker?” Rick asked.

            I nodded. “He’s racing.”

            “Fuck.”

            “It’ll be fine,” Benji said. “Mason has everything under control. He won’t let Sid Paul fuck this up for him. Give the guy some credit.”

            “He’s my brother. I have grounds to be concerned.”

            I put my hand on Benji’s shoulder. “Arguing about it now won’t help anything. Mason is racing. Sid is here. Shit happens. Let’s just put our big girl panties on and handle it, okay?”

            Benji shrugged out from under my hand. “Shouldn’t you be going to get your flag? Harley is probably chomping at the bit waiting for you.”

            I rolled my eyes. “You’re so dramatic, Benji. I’m on my way now. Good luck, okay? Don’t get run off the road.”

            Benji smirked as he cut to the left to get his car. “Never.”

            Ginny waved at me as I slipped into the thinning crowd and made my way to the front of the race. I found Harley standing with her arms crossed beneath her large breasts. She was standing beside the chair that still had the flag on it. When I arrived, she looked me over. “You’re taking the jacket off, right?”

            I nodded. “Absolutely. I knew it was going to rain.”

            “Good girl. Once all twenty cars are at their marks, you take to the road. See the X on the pavement there?” She pointed one long, black-painted fingernail at the red mark on the asphalt.

            I nodded. “Yep.”

            “That’s for you. You stand there and don’t move an inch. Those cars will launch off the line with the gas pedals down on the floor. You stay put until they’re all past you. Yes?”