Page 1 of Over the Limit

PROLOGUE

Lachlan

Ten Years Ago

“Lachlan!”

Fuck.

Awesome timing, Dad.

But when I turn to face my dad, there’s a smile on my lips, because even though I’d much rather be making out with Olivia—much rather—I won’t be a dick to my dad.

“Yeah, Dad?”

“You’re late.”

I glance over my shoulder to where Olivia was. Thank fuck she’s no longer there, evidence hidden. “I’m not.” I shrug it off and hope to sell the lie. Is fifteen minutes really considered late? In his book, maybe. In mine? I’m on time. “I was just . . .”

“Just what? Being a teenager? Just making out with a girl? Just what, Lach?” He angles his head to the side and gives me that look. The one that says he’s calling me on my bullshit. I don’t have time for this, which is clear as I sight my crew in the distance, looking our way.

I sigh loudly. “Just yes to all the above,” I finally say.

He nods. “The team comes first, mate. Always. Your crew. Your teammates when you get one. Your sponsors.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“You want to be nonchalant about it? There are a hundred more drivers qualified to take your spot. Who’d kill to have it. The drivers who fail are the ones who forget that all these people are there for them and the success of the team.”

“Got it. I understand.”

“Could’ve fooled me. I raised you better than that. To respect every person out here. Besides, you’ve worked so hard for this—to finally get where you are. You’re so goddamn close you can basically taste it.”

“I was just having a little fun. You’re making a way bigger deal than there needs to be.”

“Are you going to risk throwing it all away for a girl? You can get laid on your own time.” He throws a thumb over his shoulder. “Not on theirs.”

“Jesus.” I cough the word out. It’s true. I was copping a feel because Olivia has the best tits ever—not like I’ve felt many yet—but Christ, my dad talking about getting laid? That’s the last thing I want to hear.

“What?” He crosses his arms over his chest. “You want to be a man? Be in charge of your own schedule and your responsibilities, then I’ll speak to you and treat you like one.”

“Dad.” I huff.

“No. Let me finish.” He shifts on his feet. “As a man, you’ll have many choices in life. Ones that will further your career. Ones that will build relationships. Ones that will . . . let’s say, satisfy your urges.”

Whatever. I roll my eyes.

“Don’t worry. I know you know all about the birds and the bees. I’m sure by the color of your cheeks and your undone zipper, that you might have just been learning a bit more.”

Oh. My. Fucking. God. There is no way to casually zip up your pants. Not anytime. Especially not right after your dad just called you on it and the reason why he did. Or that he’s fucking right on all accounts.

The high from Olivia’s hand being down my pants vanishes. Gone like I wish I could be from this conversation.

How the fuck do I not look guilty with my zipper down?

“But what you don’t truly fathom, Lach, is the consequences of your actions.”

“My team is waiting.”