Page 100 of Jackrabbit

His hands were steady as he pulled the tape and broke the strip with his teeth. But it took a conscious effort to keep them that way. Especially as he brought the first end to the side of Colt’s spine and pressed it into his warm skin. Colt's sides rose with his deep, quick inhale, and Beau stretched the tape down across his ribs. He followed the path with his hand to make sure it was straight and reminded himself that he couldn't keep going until his fingers were splayed across Colt’s taut stomach.

By the time Beau was done with the X across Colt’s ribs, he was half-hard and sweating his ass off. What the fuck was wrong with him? Colt was flushed from his cheeks to his nipples, and Beau knew by the way he was shifting on the stool that it wasn't just from the heat.

“You got this color for me, huh?” Colt asked softly as Beau helped him lower his arm. Beau didn't answer, and Colt huffed a soft laugh. “You like me.”

Beau paused to steady himself. Then he looked down at Colt, at his wet curls and his big eyes and his dimples. “Yeah, boy. I do.”

Colt’s eyes drifted down to Beau’s lips, and Beau held as still as he could.

A fist pounded against the hauler door so hard both of them jumped. “Colt, you decent? They're calling your heat in five.” James.

“Yeah,” Colt called, his eyes fully locked on Beau. “Just getting taped up. Be right out.”

“Roger!”

The air in the hauler was thick as Beau picked Colt’s shirt up off the toolbox and handed it to him. He'd tuned out the sounds from outside, but now it felt like the revving engines and people chattering were echoing in the small space.

When Colt winced reaching for the sleeves of his suit, Beau helped him into it and came around his front to zip him up. “Alright.” His voice was rough as he did up the collar. “Let's get you out there.”

“Hey, Beau?” Colt stepped closer.

“Yeah?”

Colt slid a hand onto each of Beau’s shoulders and pulled himself up. Then he pressed his lips to the corner of Beau’s mouth, firm and warm and not enough. “Thanks.”

He left, opening the door to let in the light and sound of the rest of the world, and Beau was alone with acid green KT tape and the feeling of Colt’s mouth against his skin.

Chapter 44

It had been a long-ass day, even by Beau’s standards. He’d sent the crew home after Colt’s Heat for rest, and they’d come back an hour ago to get the car ready for the main event. Colt had napped in Beau’s truck and come out stiff as a board, and it had taken a lot of work to get him loose again. The ribs had needed re-wrapping, but the hauler had been so goddamn hot they’d done it on a stool by the car instead while the guys formed a human wall around them to prevent unwanted photos.

Now Beau was standing on a riser with twenty-seven other coaches and spotters, binoculars around his neck, heart in his throat as he watched Colt’s ugly-ass yellow Camaro file in with the other cars that had made the cut for A-Main under the floodlights. Colt was starting in P6 despite finishing P2 in his Heat. That shitty Fox Body with the target on the hood was right behind him. Tracker Kendrick. Beau had seen him on the roster and been hoping he’d wreck. No luck.

“How’s the tape, Jackrabbit?” Beau murmured as he did a quick scan of the people at the back of the riser. He wasn’t surprised to see the woman in the June bug-green vest standing at the far corner, leaning her forearms across the rails. She had a headset on and was staring intently at a tablet with a privacy screen on it, a scanner clipped to her belt loop. Listening in? He’d bet money she was listening to them in particular. “Got an audience on the line. Keep it clean, boy.”

“That mean no cussing? No talking about how my entire ass is numb from being in this seat so many times today?No—”

“Colt.” Beau rubbed the bridge of his nose. He could just picture that shit-eating grin. “Tell me about the ribs before they start the pace laps.”

Colt sighed. “They’re alright. Hurts like a bitch. Kinda tight. Nothing I can’t handle, though. Might die tomorrow, but today I can get through.”

“Alright, that’s good.” Another coach elbowed Beau as he tried to get a better position, but Beau was bigger. He didn’t move. “Did some research on car 65 in P1. He’s a tank. Veteran driver from Vegas, not afraid to drive dirty and toe the line. And you know your biggest fan behind you, Kendrick. The ban didn’t extend to the regional races. He’s gonna have it out for you again, and the stakes are bigger. Watch him.”

“Yes, sir. Keep your eye on the homophobic dickwad. Got it. Gar’s in P4 today. I don’t see Henry anywhere.”

“Wrecked in his Heat while you were sleeping.” The flag went up to start the pace laps, and Beau watched for it to go down. “Rookie took him out. He’s fine, but his car’s done for the day.”

The flag dropped, and the cars started their pace laps.

“Woof. The car feels like it’s on rails, Coach. Track’s changed. Like it’s gripping back.”

A breeze flipped Beau’s hair across his forehead, and he hummed. “Cool air after sunset this time of year. Car’s gonna wanna push you into the wall, but don’t fight it with your arms. You’ll wear yourself out before lap 10.”

“Oh, cool, so head straight to the wall, then? I knew you were trying to off me.”

Beau glanced at the woman in the vest and saw her smirk. Definitely listening in on them. He looked back at the track. “Brake deep, let the rear rotate, and let the track’s grip do the work on the exit. By lap twenty, half these guys are gonna have cooked their front tires trying to force the turn. Play the long game.”

“The long game, huh?”Colt gave a low laugh. Flirty little shit couldnothelp himself. “I’m good at that.”