[COMPLETED]
❝Of all the races I've started, loving him is the one I never want to finish.❞
In this re-imagination of my most popular story, Arielle Hawthorne is an illegal street racer, just like Zayn Malik. Zayn's egotistical, flirty, and a major p...
"Faster, faster, until the thrill of speed overcomes the fear of death." — Unknown
A/N: sorry for such a delay! pls forgive me and love me and leave lots of comments since y'all know they're my fav and i miss y'all :( and it's an extra long chapter :)
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Z A Y N
When Sara takes me back to her place, it takes everything within me to not search her house. I literally itch to explore and find dirt on her prick father, but I know I have to repress that urge.
Instead, I panic over possibly being exposed to her father much too early in my plan.
I really can't be caught here by Lieutenant Asshole. No, not until I've gotten some decent shit on him, and his poor, innocent—and disgusting—daughter's fallen in love with me. That way, he won't want to hurt me. Because hurting me means hurting his daughter.
Aw, boo.
Safe to say that when Sara grabs my hand and pulls me through her house in a hurry, I'm happy. She immediately leads me to a room in the back of the building and shoves me inside of what I can only assume is her bedroom. She's immediately pulling my leather jacket off my shoulders and tossing it on the other side of the small room.
It's a quaint little room, fitting for the bungalow that is this house. The scary part is the fact that for a grown woman this room is terrifyingly childish. She still has the walls painted a pastel pink colour, the bed is a tiny sized twin, and she has stuffed animals . . . everywhere.
What in the fuck–
I watch in dick softening terror as she uses both arms to brush the plush animals off her mattress and throws her body onto the surface sexily. I swallow hard, trying to hide what I'm really feeling.
Please tell me she doesn't want to fuck.
What happened to taking things slow?
"Zee," she mutters after a few silent moments where I manage to wander my gaze literally anywhere else. When I hear my name being called, I naturally focus back on her to find that she's kneeling at the foot of her bed where she holds a stuffed baby elephant in her hands.
"Are you okay, Zee?" She asks it and I drag a hand over my face.
