Racing Hearts [NEW]

CHAPTER 10: JUST A BREATH AWAY

The air inside the car grew thicker, more intense with each passing second, and I became painfully aware of just how close Jake was sitting beside me. Outside, dusk had settled, casting the world in a dim, hazy light that barely seeped through the tinted windows, leaving us cocooned in a soft, intimate shadow. The soft hum of the Porsche's engine did little to break the tension building between us, filling the confined space with something hot, electric, and alive.

My fingers fumbled with the seatbelt, my hands clumsy and uncooperative as I struggled to click it into place. Of all the times to be a mess, why now? I could feel his eyes on me, the weight of his gaze settling like a tangible thing, causing my fingers to tremble just enough to make me curse under my breath for being so ridiculous. Just when I thought I might actually rip the damn thing out of frustration, he shifted, moving closer—too close.

In one smooth motion, Jake leaned over me, his arm brushing against mine as he reached across my body. One hand braced itself against the headrest of my seat, while his other hand slipped around my waist, his fingers cleverly gliding over the fabric of my shirt finding the buckle.

My breath hitched, caught somewhere between my throat and lungs, and I felt like a deer frozen in headlights, pinned by the weight of his presence in a way that felt almost intentional, calculated.

The world outside dissolved into a blur, and all I could feel was Jake—so close, his face just mere inches from mine, his warm breath grazing my cheek. His gaze was fierce, intent, like he was aware of every millimeter separating us. The heat from his skin radiated through the small space between us, turning the air thick and heavy.

The faint scent of his cologne, an intoxicating blend of luxury and something distinctively him, hitting me hard and making my head spin. It was spices and smoke, a scent that pulled me in against my will, making my heartbeat thunder in my ears.

My skin tickled under his touch, every nerve on high alert as his arm brushed against me, the heat radiating off his skin like a slow burn. I barely remembered to breathe.

No, no, no. Don't let him get to you, Melissa. Don't even think about it.

But despite every warning blaring in my head, I was hyper-aware of everything. The way his fingers skillfully fastened the seatbelt, the smooth click that barely registered over the roar of my own pulse. His hand was warm, the briefest brush against my shoulder sending a spark skittering through me. His breath fanned over my cheek, a hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, like he knew exactly what he was doing.

For a heartbeat, he stayed there. I felt his gaze—his eyes, darker than I'd ever seen them. This close, I could see the stormy flecks of silver in his deep blue eyes, the dark lashes framing them as his gaze lingered just a moment too long. Every logical thought fled my mind. My chest tightened, a flutter stirring low in my stomach that I was absolutely not going to acknowledge.

I felt my breath hitch as his eyes finally met mine. There was something sparkling in his gaze, something that held a playful challenge—a dare, maybe. He's daring me to break this moment. He's daring me to look away.

But I didn't. My heart was hammering so loudly I was sure he could hear it, each beat marking how completely off-balance he'd thrown me.

Then, just as quickly as he had leaned in, he pulled back, settling back into his seat as if nothing had happened. His hands gripped the wheel with that familiar control, his gaze focused forward, his expression calm and unbothered. The tension in the car lingered, thick and smoldering, even as he seemed perfectly unfazed by the moment he'd just created and abandoned.

The engine roared to life, jerking me out of the fog he'd cast over me. I took a long, shaky breath, willing my heart to settle, but my pulse raced on, as if trapped in that fleeting, intoxicating moment. If I took an ECG right now, I'd probably set the machine on fire.

I forced my eyes to the window, trying to collect myself, but the butterflies swirling in my stomach refused to be ignored. My mind stuck on that moment—on his closeness—on the way his gaze had burned into me, the way he'd looked at me as though I was the only person in his world, even if just for a second.

Melissa, don't be stupid. I was angry at myself, at him, at this whole ridiculous situation for the way it had spun me around. This was a game to him, I knew that. He was probably just toying with me, pulling me in because he enjoyed the thrill of control. My fingers clenched into fists on my lap, willing the tremor in them to go unnoticed. But that didn't make it any less infuriating or thrilling, and damn him, he knew that.

"Seatbelt," he murmured with a sly smile, not even glancing my way. His tone held a note of smug satisfaction, like he knew he'd rattled me and enjoyed every second of it. I felt my cheeks heat, my frustration spiking as I tried to play it cool.

I swallowed, trying to keep my face neutral as I forced myself to look out the window, pretending I hadn't felt a thing. But deep down, I knew better—this was a game to him. A game I wasn't sure I'd win.

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