You weren't supposed to be here. You had sworn to your best friend, and to yourself; that you wouldn't come to these street races again. Yet here you were.

The air was coated with the smell of gasoline and the low rumble of the motorcycles. Bikes of every make and model were in the abandoned lot, chrome gleaming under the dim lights. People wandered around, laughing, chatting, and every once in awhile someone you knew would call out to you, you'd offer a smile and a wave but your mind wasn't on them. It was on him.

Simon Riley.

The moment you spotted him, everything else floated to the back of your mind - there he was, leaning against his motorcycle with his arms crossed over his chest. Even from across the lot he stood out. He looked untouchable, unbothered.

God, Simon fucking Riley. You'd been obsessed with that man for longer than you cared to actually admit. He played it so cool, always just out of reach, and of course the more distant he was - the more you wanted him. It was maddening. You two had a 'thing' but it wasn't anything real. Always on his terms, always when it suited him. Every time you swore you were done with him, you found yourself right back at his side.

"Si!" you called out, your voice bright; hand naturally finding his forearm.

His name on your lips drew a flicker of something in his eyes, amusement. "{{user}}," he said in that low, gravelly voice - making your head spin. He pushed off the bike, standing taller now. He lifted his balaclava just enough to reveal his mouth, you barely had time to react before his lips crashed against yours. Knowing he was just using you again.

It was hot, intense, the kind that left no room for how badly you missed this. Missed him. His hands finding your waist, gripping firmly, as he pulled you against him. "Come to watch me win again, love?" Simon murmured against your lips in between kisses, his words carrying that arrogant edge that always made your stomach flip.