SPEED, SMOKE AND SECRETS
1140 Words
Aria
“One race lit the fire, one name fanned the flames.”
I hated the way my knees trembled. And I hated even more that I didn’t shove him off me the moment his body caged mine against the wall.
His breath brushed against my skin, hot and maddening, like it was meant to remind me of that night—the night I swore I’d bury and never speak of again.
The memory came rushing back uninvited. His hands. His mouth. The way he looked at me like I belonged to him while he thrusted deep inside me. My chest ached with the memory and my thighs clenched with shame.
“Damien…” My voice was soft, shaky, a whisper that betrayed me. “Please—just let me go.”
But even as I said it, I knew I was lying to myself. Because if he leaned in just one inch closer, if his lips brushed mine…
I wouldn’t push him away.
I’d pull him in.
“Damien…” a voice called out from somewhere behind us.
He froze, his grip loosening, but his eyes stayed locked on mine. For a breathless second, I thought he wouldn’t let go—that he’d ignore whoever it was and claim the kiss hanging between us.
Instead, his jaw tightened. His hand fell away, and I felt the loss like a sting. He leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of my ear as he whispered, low and dangerous,
“Don’t make me lose control.”
Then he stepped back, leaving me pressed against the wall, my pulse racing, my body betraying me.
Thank God!
My body was about to betray me. I headed out and spotted him across the lot, standing with his friends as he prepped his car for the race. The roar of engines and the thrum of bass faded for a second when he tugged his shirt over his head.
My breath caught. The lean strength of his body was impossible to ignore, and heat flushed through me before I could stop it. A traitorous smile curved my lips as my eyes lingered longer than they should have.
When his gaze finally found mine, he smirked—slow, knowing, like he’d caught me staring. And before I could look away, he returned my smile, making my stomach twist in ways I didn’t want to admit.
Engines screamed as the cars tore down the track, the smell of fuel thick in the night air. His rival was already lifting a hand in victory when Damien’s engine roared like a beast unleashed. In a flash of speed and fury, he devoured the distance and stole the win, leaving the crowd in a frenzy.
Our ride back home was quiet. We barely talked. It was better; anything else he said would raise the tension inside me.
Our parents were already asleep by the time we got home. Back in my room, I tried to sleep, distract myself, to drown in anything—music, books, even empty daydreams—but every thought circled back to him. Damien. His hands. The tattoos seemed to burn against my skin. The way he touched me that first night we met, like he already knew I’d never forget.
Fuck! I’m never getting over this one anytime soon.
By the time I finally drifted into sleep, the ghost of his touch was still burning on my skin.
The morning light spilt across my face, warm and persistent, pulling me from sleep. A soft knock followed, and I stirred. It was the butler. “Breakfast has been served, ma’am,” she said gently from the other side of the door.
I grumpily got up from the bed, brushed my teeth and headed downstairs for breakfast. The table had already been served, and my mother was chatting with her fiancé about her wedding dress.
“Hey, come look, baby,” she called, her voice bubbling with excitement. “I kept telling him this was the best dress, but he refused to listen.” She pointed at the gown glowing on the laptop screen.
“Let me see,” I said, leaning closer for a clearer view. A laugh slipped from me. “She’s right—the one with the pearls.”
When I looked up, my mother’s eyes were shining, her face lit with laughter I hadn’t seen in so long.
She was radiant. Truly radiant. And in that moment, I knew—I’d give her the world if that’s what it took to keep her this happy.
“Hey, son. Come help me pick a tux,” Alexander called as Damien shuffled into the dining room, his hair still tousled from sleep.
Damien rubbed his eyes, squinting at the flat screen. “Let me see.” He leaned in, studying the designs with a lazy sort of focus.
After a beat, he lifted a finger. “This one.” He pointed at the sleek black tux with the crisp white blazer—tailored, sharp, undeniably elegant.
“You always have good taste, don’t you?” Alexander said with a chuckle, clearly impressed by Damien’s choice.
“I sure do,” Damien replied smoothly, his eyes locking on mine—like he wasn’t talking about the tux at all, but about me.
“That’s it. Let’s dig in before breakfast gets cold,” my mum said, stirring milk into her coffee with that soft smile she always wore in the mornings.
“Aria, baby, don’t forget—you have to go shopping today.”
“With who?” I asked, blinking at her. My chest tightened with surprise. I barely even knew my way around this city.
“Nick will be here by noon. The driver will take you both,” she said casually, as if it wasn’t the biggest news I’d heard all week.
A grin tugged at my lips before I could stop it. Nick. At least now I had something—someone—to focus on besides Damien, that arrogant, insufferable son of a b***h.
Alexander’s phone buzzed on the table, the vibration cutting sharply through the chatter. His expression shifted as soon as he glanced at the screen.
“What is it, honey?” my mother asked, setting her cup of coffee down, her tone suddenly cautious.
“It’s Evelyn,” Alexander muttered, his jaw tight as stone. “She’s back.” His face tightened with anger and shock.
But it was Damien who made my blood run cold—he froze mid-bite, eyes narrowing like he had just seen a ghost. His fork clattered against the plate, sharp in the silence. For the first time since I’d met him, he looked… shaken.
Silence swallowed the room.
Who the hell was Evelyn, and why did her name feel like a curse at this table?
- Writer
