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“Am I ready to wrap Carver’s car around a fucking concrete pillar? No. Not even close.”
“Perfect,” Grayson says, opening his door and looking back at me. “Get in.”
Crap.
Knowing that this torture won’t end until I at least give it a try, I climb across the center console and drop down into the driver’s seat, but with the ridiculous setting the guys need this stupid seat on, I can barely see over the steering wheel.
King laughs and starts helping me make adjustments as Grayson gets into the seat that I’d just vacated. “Alright,” he says, watching as I buckle my seatbelt and make sure that it’s locked into place. “We’re just going to chill, driving around the lot until you get comfortable with the corners, and then we’ll venture out into the real world.”
I roll my eyes and just when I think I can go, Grayson leans across me and cuts the engine. I give him a blank stare and he shrugs his shoulders as though he’s not being an asshole. “What?” he questions. “You need to know all the basics and that includes turning this fucker on.”
“Keep crossing me like this and you’ll be the fucker that I refuse to turn on.”
“Just get on with it,” he mutters. “Right foot on the brake, turn on the car and shift into drive. You’re going to release the emergency brake and when you’re ready, ease your foot off the brake. We’re on a flat so the car isn’t going to go anywhere until you gently ease on to the gas.”
I let out a sigh and do as he asked, thinking way too hard about it despite already knowing the basic fundamentals of moving this big metal beast. Either way, I appreciate him going through every tiny thing so I get the chance to really commit it to memory, but with things like this, the only way to truly get it right is with constant practice.
I ease on to the gas and the Escalade jolts forward, making a sharp laugh tear out of King, only to be terribly disguised as a cough. “You’re doing great, babe,” he says, his eyes telling me a completely different story.
I zone him out as the wide-open space of the mall parking lot leaves way too many overwhelming options. “Which way do I go?” I rush out, driving dead straight and heading straight for one of those before mentioned concrete pillars.
“There’s a whole fucking parking lot,” Grayson says. “Go wherever the fuck you want.”
“LEFT OR RIGHT?” I panic, my eyes going wide as my heart races.
“Fuck. Left,” he rushes out, just moments before grabbing the wheel and yanking it to the left to avoid me ramming straight into the pillar and allowing Carver to take his sweet punishments out on me.
With the first turn out of the way, I let out a breath and relax into my seat, letting out a heavy sigh. “Wow, okay. See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
The boys just stare blankly as I easily fall into my tasks, quickly getting used to the feel of the steering wheel in my hands and the motion of applying pressure to the gas and brake. I don’t know what I was being such a bitch about. At least, that’s what I thought until Grayson decided to throw King out in the parking lot to act as a marker for parallel parking.
Half an hour passes and I bring the Escalade to a stop in the center of the lot, needing to pump my fingers after clutching onto the steering wheel as though my life depended on it. Don’t get me wrong, the boys have constantly been telling me to relax my grip, but these things just don’t happen overnight. Besides, there’s bigger issues at hand, like the fact that no matter how hard I think about it, I will never be able to remember which side is which when it comes to the wipers and indicators.
Needing a quick break, I cut the engine and push the door open, letting the breeze flow through to cool me down. Apparently, the stress of driving gets me worked up into a bigger sweat than what the boys do when they’re all over me.
The boys open their doors too and I fiddle with the buttons on the dash, turning on the music and chilling out for just a moment, the stress of last night and today’s failed attempts quickly catching up to me.
My head falls back against the seat and I close my eyes, desperately trying to channel all that negative energy flying through my mind.
“We’ll get her,” King promises from the backseat.
I shake my head, looking back at him. “I’m not sure that we will.”
King narrows his gaze and a flash of anger shoots through his blue eyes and before I even know what he’s doing, he reaches into the front seat and grabs me. He pulls me between the two front seats until I’m straddled over his lap with his lips pressed against the sensitive skin of my neck and his hands gripping my ass, his fingers digging in just enough to let me know that I’m in trouble. “Keep talking like that and I’ll have no choice but to fuck it out of you,” he warns. “We’re getting her and when we do, the five of us are going to fucking celebrate in the way that only we can.”
