Page 10 of Challenge Me

I should have felt trapped.

I did not.

“Where are we going?” I asked. I didn’t particularly care, but I hated the silence between us. I was not used to trusting something so fully, especially not a car I had driven once and then spent weeks avoiding like a coward.

“I know a few places,” Ghost answered, his hand on his own wheel, his voice rolling through the cabin all gravel and old Southern drawl.

For the first time, I got to study him properly. The shadow that wore a man’s shape. The broad shoulders. The angle of a jaw, strong and old-fashioned, like a soldier dragged out of a sepia-toned war photograph. The pale eyes that kept flicking toward me, quick and searching, trying to read a reaction.

He kept revving his engine, handling the twisting roads with obscene skill, taking corners harder than necessary, letting the tires bite and complain. He was showing off. I was amused but deliberately held a straight face, giving him almost nothing in return. The roar of the engine, the burning rubber, the surge of speed; it did impress me, but not in the way he wanted. Speed alone was not enough to make me gasp and clutch at the dashboard like some trembling passenger princess. No. I was far more curious about the shadow controlling the metal beast. I wanted to know where he began and the car ended. Whether the hand on the wheel felt what the tires felt. Whether the engine’s growl was just as much his voice as his low Southern drawl.

I noted with some amusement the moment his confidence began to crack. The speed climbed higher. The corners sharpened. His glances lingered longer. He wanted a reaction: a widened eye, a curse, a hand gripping the door—some proof that all that horsepower, all that old American muscle, had gotten beneath my skin.

A proud thing like Ghost did not like being unimpressive.

I braced one hand lightly against the dashboard as he took another bend too fast.

“Stop,” I whispered. “Find somewhere to park.”

The brakes screeched as his few tons of metal came to a stop on the side of the road, gravel spitting from beneath the tires. The engine kept rumbling, restless and confused, like a horse pulled short before a jump.

For a second, neither of us moved.

Then I unbuckled my seatbelt and shifted across the cabin, moving from the passenger seat and into Ghost’s lap before either of us had the wisdom to reconsider.

“Ghost,” I whispered. His hands hovered near my waist as if touching me might require permission, his darkness between my legs shifting, struggling to keep solid shape.

“Look at me.” I held Ghost by his chin, forcing him to look down at me. “I know what you are doing.”

“You do?”

The stiffness in him was almost endearing. I knew his type. Gods help me, I knew that type far too well. Another old soldier, too eager to please, too eager to serve.

“You don’t have to.” I smiled, my fingers trying to study the features obstructed by the darkness that reflected no light. All I could see were his pale eyes, but my fingers navigated the car’s high cheekbones, the strong jawline. I wondered who gave him that form. Who saw him this way?

“I’m not going to change my mind about you. I’m not going to give you up. You don’t have to fuck me into keeping you. You have nothing to prove.”

Ghost leaned into me, the shimmering shadow of his body gently melting into my chest. I could feel him against my ribs, my lungs struggling to take a full breath as his being melded into my flesh. I thought he might take me up on my lifeboat offer until his hand brushed against the back of my neck, his fingers slipping against my scalp, slow and deliberate, gathering a handful of my hair. The grip was light at first, almost a question. Then he tightened it enough to tilt my head back, and his mouth found mine.

The kiss was not gentle, and he pulled back far too soon. “No.”

I blinked.

“No?” I echoed, thrown by the firmness in his tone. I had been so sure I had him. I knew his type. Military. Loyal. Proud. Desperate. Men like that were always so easy to control.

“I might not have much to prove,” Ghost said, and there was the drawl again, low and dangerous. “But you still do.”

Before I could answer, he lifted me.

The movement was effortless. One moment I was straddling him; the next, I was shoved back against the seat, the warm leather catching me as darkness surged around my body. I choked on pure indignation, ready to unleash a tirade. I had nothing to prove. I was everything I ever wanted to be. Rich, successful, powerful.

Then his mouth found mine again, and my thoughts scattered at the corporal kiss that invaded my senses. It wasn’t just a kiss. It was deeper, more intense than anything I could compare it to. The shadow barely felt physical, but the kiss carried more than the soft lips and playful tongue. There was speed, strength- that raw power that I had never appreciated until that very moment. The kiss deepened, and the cabin seemed to shrink until there was nothing beyond the leather beneath me, the night outside, and Ghost.

Within moments, it became too much. I pulled away, gasping. The cool air sobered me only slightly.

“What–” I swallowed, trying to gather enough dignity to form a sentence. My heart hammered in my chest. “What do you mean?”

Ghost leaned over me, a wicked smirk stretching across those shadowed features.