Chapter 1

Carlo's POV

 

“Hey Blaze, one more glass!” My friends pressure him. Damn, is he an idiot?

 

Usually, Blaze doesn’t talk or sit with anyone. Always a loner with a cocky attitude. My friends and I always bullied him for working so hard to earn a penny, and he always avoided us.

 

Tonight, though, he’s downing shot after shot. I can’t help but wonder why he’s drinking so much when he has a race in a few hours.

 

But then again, why do I care? He’s racing against my team. As someone who’s been second to him for three years straight, I hate him for being so good.

 

Always the champion, always ahead, while I’m left choking on his dust.

 

I slam my glass of whiskey on the table, the sound echoing against the silence of my own thoughts. Gulping it down, I feel the burn travel from my throat to my stomach, igniting the simmering frustration inside me.

 

But he’s not the only thing messing with my head tonight. My father sent an invitation—no, a demand—to attend the charity gala, and it’s still crumpled in my jacket pocket.

 

“Fucking heir shit,” I mutter under my breath. I don’t want to be an heir. I’m not ready to face that side of life yet. I just want to ride, to feel the wind against my face and the thrill of the track beneath me. Nothing else matters.

 

“Hey, buddy, he’s wasted. Not sure he can make it tonight. Good for us if he’s replaced,” Bobby says, his voice dripping with contempt as they all burst into laughter.

 

“Your old man’s really screwing things up for us. You’re the only one who can keep up with him, and he has to drag you to some bullshit event tonight, of all nights,” Bobby laments.

 

Their words blend into the background as my head pounds from the alcohol. I’m tired of their whining. Before I can push my chair back and leave, I feel something heavy collapse on me. Blaze was resting on my chest.

 

Fuck, this idiot!

 

“Hey Carlo, you’re heading home, right? Don’t leave him here. Just drop him off at their club entrance or some hotel before you go to your party.” Bobby’s voice is distant as he staggers out with the rest of the team.

 

“Hey, get a hold of yourself!” I growl, pushing Blaze off me, trying to balance us both.

 

He slumps forward again, his body leaning heavily on mine. “You feel so good… Why is that?” he mumbles, his words slurred. I glance down at his flushed face, his eyes half-closed.

 

This is the closest we’ve ever been. Even in the heat of a race, we’ve never been this near, and I can’t help but notice the details—his pale skin, the curve of his jaw, the way his dark hair falls messily over his forehead.

 

There’s something strangely vulnerable about him now that I see, something that makes him look… cute.

 

Ha! You’ve gone insane, Carlo. I shake my head at myself.

 

The alcohol is messing with me. I rummage through his pockets and pull out his phone, using his finger to unlock it. I try calling his friend, but no one answers. After three rings, the call ends. Shit.

 

I help him up as he leans on me, he reeks of alcohol but his flushed face makes him look strangely cute.

 

I drag him out to my car and head for the closest hotel near their clubhouse. Finally settle him in my car, as I help him with the seat belt, his breath slightly fans my neck.

 

After a few minute’s drive, we arrive at the hotel.

 

I can’t risk being seen there and raising suspicion. I manage to get a room and practically throw him on the bed.

 

He’s going to wake up with a massive hangover and realize his stupidity costs him the race. Serves him right.

 

But as I turn to leave, he grips my jacket with surprising strength. His face is red from all the drinks he guzzled down so aggressively back there. Before I can say anything, he tugs me closer, and suddenly our lips meet.

 

What the hell is he doing?

 

Before I can push him away, he pulls me tighter, his hands tangled in my hair. I should shove him off, walk out, and leave him to sleep it off, but… God, he’s not letting go. His lips are warm and insistent, his tongue flicking against mine.

 

At this point, my body betrays me, responding like a dog in heat. My cock stiffens against the tightness of my pants, and I can’t believe I’m getting hard from this—kissing a man.

 

“Hey, stop it. You’re drunk,” I manage to say between gasps.

 

“Huh? I just need to clear my head… But I can feel your hardness, even after you said that,” he murmurs, his breath hot against my mouth, his gaze hazy but heated.

 

Damn! That look sends something electric through me. Every rational thought screams for me to get out of here.

 

But when he reaches down and gropes me, a moan escapes my lips. Fuck! I shouldn’t be reacting like this.

 

I should be disgusted; I should be pushing him off. Instead, I grab him by the shoulders and deepen the kiss. Our tongues clash, his whiskey-tinted mouth intoxicating me further. The taste of alcohol mixed with his unique sweetness clouds my senses.

 

Somehow, we stumble our way to the bed, his legs giving out beneath him. He falls, pulling me down with him. My leather jacket is on the ground before I even realize I'm in his grasp. His hands run with unexpected skill, undoing my jeans' zipper and undoing the belt around my waist.

 

My cock breaks out, rubbing against his reddened face. His lips are parted and his eyes are dilated as he glances up at me. Even just looking at it gives me a sharp throb.

 

Ha! To be honest, I have no idea what I'm doing. I will regret doing this, I swear.

 

But when his mouth wraps around me, sucking fiercely, all I can think about is how damn amazing it feels. I clutch his hair, letting out a deep moan in my throat.

 

 he is persistent. I am unable to stop him, I won't be doing that.

 

"Fuck it... You're serious about this, huh?

 

I mutter through gritted teeth, trying to hold back. I glance down at him, at the way he’s taking me in deeper, his head bobbing.

 

I should stop him. I should walk out of here and forget any of this happened.

 

But as I look at his flushed cheeks, his lips stretched around me, I know I’m too far gone to pull away.

 

Tomorrow, I’ll blame it on the alcohol. But right now, I need this. I need him.

 

I grab his head, thrusting gently into his mouth, losing myself in the forbidden sensation. Whatever happens after this, I’ll deal with it later.