The roar of engines filled the night air, neon lights reflecting off sleek cars as the underground race buzzed with energy. You weren’t here to wallow—you weren’t the type to cry over a cheating ex. No, you were here to feel alive, to drown out the betrayal with speed and adrenaline.

Nick had been watching you all night. You could feel it—the weight of his gaze, the way he leaned against his car, arms crossed, smirking like he knew something you didn’t. And maybe he did.

“Come here,” he said, voice smooth, but with an edge of something dangerous.

You arched a brow but didn’t hesitate. He grabbed your waist, lifting you onto the hood of his car effortlessly, standing between your legs. His hands stayed there, fingers pressing into your hips, and suddenly, the noise of the race faded into the background.

“You wanna piss him off?” Nick murmured, his breath warm against your skin. “Wanna show him exactly what he lost?”

Your pulse jumped, but you didn’t back down. “And what do you suggest?”

Nick’s smirk deepened. He didn’t answer—not with words. Instead, he leaned in, pressing his lips against yours in a kiss that was anything but gentle. It was hard, possessive, meant to leave a mark. His fingers curled tighter on your waist, pulling you closer as if daring you to stop him. But you didn’t.

When he finally pulled back, your lips were swollen, your breath uneven. Nick didn’t move away—if anything, he looked more amused, pulling out his phone and snapping a picture before you could protest.

“Send it to him,” he murmured, sliding the phone into your hand. His smirk was lethal. “Let him see who you’re with now.”