The same girl has been leaving tire marks all over my heart for years. Now that Iβve finally moved on and accepted the fact that sheβs never going to be mine, sheβs batting her lashes at me and saying my name in a tone that suggests she wants to be more than just friends.
Harley Cross is the redheaded spitfire who has owned me since the first time I set foot on a race track in the streets. Her mind is as quick as her mouth, and sheβs shot down every advance Iβve ever made.
Until now.
Something has changed. I donβt know what it is, but Iβd be a fool to ignore her, right?
Itβs naΓ―ve to think Harley is doing anything besides fucking with me. Itβs what she does. She reels you in and spits you back out once youβre all broken and busted and chewed up.
I wonβt be her chew toy anymore. I canβt. My head and my heart canβt take it.
But no matter how sound the logic is to steer clear of her, I canβt stop my heart from aching for her. Or my body from wanting her. Sheβs poison, plain and simple. All it would take is one bite to ruin me. One taste to crumble my resolve.
So I must resist.