Force: A Driven World Novel (The Driven World)

that he’s using sex as a distraction from a conversation he isn’t comfortable with?
As he forces me closer and closer to the edge, I get the feeling that he is having that conversation with me. He’s telling me, in the only way he knows how, that I’m not the only one who feels the magnitude of what is happening between us. There might be conversations we need to have, but they can wait. Right now, we’re together again, and that’s all that matters.
I just pray that I’m strong enough to stay this time.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN
TUCKER
“When do we get to meet her?” It’s Zander who asks the question, but looking around the table, I see Colton and Becks are waiting for an answer too. One week. I’m surprised they’ve given me this long if I’m honest. I half expected to be ambushed long before now.
“Those two clowns have met her already.” I point to the other end of the table. “And you can meet her just as soon as you and Getty want to set it up.”
“We barely got to say hello before you ran her off.”
“Thanks for the reminder, asshole,” I grumble, flicking Becks the finger for reminding me I was an ass to Brooke that night.
“Bring her to our place this weekend. We’ll keep it informal,” Colton offers. I still find it strange when my idol offers up his friendship so effortlessly.
“I’ll check if she’s free, but I’m sure she’d love that. She loves working with Rylee, so I don’t see it being a problem.”
Plans are made for the weekend, and the room begins to empty until it’s just Becks and me.
“You ready to start hitting the road soon?” he asks as he packs up the files he brought to today’s team meeting. The season is starting in just two weeks. Physically, everything is in place. I’m the fittest I’ve ever been, and I’m driving the best times of my career so far. I’m ready to grab this season by the balls and make it mine.
“Can’t wait. I have a feeling this year will be my best yet.”
“Your girl gonna be okay with it?” He asks the question lightly, but I hear how much he really wants to know the answer.
“What are you really asking, Becks?”
“She left you once. She going to be able to handle it this time?”
“She left because I was a punk that thought he was invincible. Not because she didn’t want me to race for a living.” He studies me for a beat, gauging how honest I’m being, not just with him, but with myself.
I’m happy you’re living your dreams.
There’s no question Brooke meant those words. She’s not talking about the penthouse, the flashy cars, or anything like that. She means racing. She’s happy I’m getting to do the only thing that ever meant anything to me. She wouldn't be here with me now if she didn’t want me in a car.
***
“You sure you don’t want to go out to eat? You’ve been on your feet all day. The last thing you want to be doing is cooking tonight.” We’re in the grocery store just down the road from my apartment. I’m in charge of the cart while Brooke fills it with more food than I think my refrigerator has ever held.
“What I want is to get my hands on your kitchen,” she mumbles, too engrossed in reading the packaging on two different kinds of pasta to pay me much attention. She’s too fucking cute. “Your oven deserves better than the ready meals you warm up in it.”
This last week of being an us again has mostly been spent with us between my bedsheets. Food has been a series of take-outs and frozen pizzas that have been eaten between rounds of phenomenal sex.
“Crap.” Brooke looks up from the list in her hand. “I forgot to get tomatoes. Can you go grab some while I get the rest of this stuff?” The domesticity of the moment should feel odd. I’m fast approaching my thirties, and I’m pretty sure I’ve only done grocery shopping a handful of times, none of which have been with a woman. But something about being like his with Brooke feels right. I want this with her. I want the mundane. I want the ordinary. I want what I’ve never had before.
“No problem.” Giving her a swift kiss and a pat on her pert ass, I take off to the front of the store. Grabbing the tomatoes, I take a detour to pick up a few bottles of wine and a pack of beers. I’m trying to decide between two bottles of Rose when I hear the very last voice I want to hear right now. Or ever, if I’m honest.
“Well, well, well. I never expected to see you here.” Karlyn’s voice is a saccharine laced purr as she stalks toward me.
“Karlyn.” I nod politely before turning back to the wine, hoping like fuck she takes the hint and moves on.
“How have you been? You haven’t been answering my calls.” She presses on, oblivious to how she's pissing me off. It’s not entirely her fault. I know I’m the one who fucked up that night, and now she thinks she can get her claws back in me. Even knowing that, I don’t try to hide the venom as I speak.
“I’m not answering because there’s nothing I have to say. I’ve told you, more than once, it was a mistake. One I have zero interest in repeating.”
Her eyes flash, but it’s not anger; she’s enjoying this. She sees me as a challenge. Something she can conquer.
“You said that before, but it didn’t stop you from coming back for round two. Or rounds three, four, and five for that matter.”
She lifts a hand like she’s about to touch me and with my hands full, the only defense I have is to step back. Not that it deters her; she just follows me.
“Enough,” I bark, tipping my head down to stare in her eyes,