All Chapters of Tangled Hearts On Wheels: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

BlazeThe hand touching me, the lips pasting kisses on my nape, down to my belly... My body shivers, I grunt, still trying to hold back the moan. Maybe because it's been so long or because I am blindfolded, but I feel so sensitive now... Fuck, way too sensitive.His lips travel lower, his breath fanning my skin, my stomach muscles twitching. I try to brace myself, but every fucking nerve in my body is on edge. His hands grip my thighs, spreading me apart like he owns me. My breath hitches when his fingers press against my inner thigh, slow, teasing, almost lazy. "Shit..." I mutter under my breath, my voice barely a whisper. I feel the way he smirks against my skin like he knows exactly what the fuck he's doing to me. Like he knows how easy it is to make my body betray me.My teeth clench, my fists tighten around the sheets. I want to hate this. I fucking should hate this. But instead, my body welcomes him like it's been craving this all along. The blindfold makes everything worse, ev

CarloA week has passed since the last time I saw that prick. These days, no matter how busy I am, he’s always in my head. I fucking hate the way he lives rent-free there.We’ve gotten used to our meeting days—three times a week. If I need an extra day, I can call him over, but Blaze will make my ears bleed over that. Still, he shows up.As if on cue, my phone lights up and his name pops up. A smile unconsciously plays on my lips as I tap the screen to take the call. His voice comes through my earbud.“Hey, your secretary says you won’t be available,” he blurts out—typical of him. Pleasantries never work with him.I glance at my wristwatch. It’s already 7 p.m. Damn it. We were supposed to meet today, but it’s late, and my work is still piled up.“Hm, still quite busy, but…” I pause for a second, an idea popping into my head. It would be thrilling to have him here. Immediately, my mind floods with possibilities.“Come to my office.”Blaze’s response is instant. “The fuck? I thought we

Blaze“Shit. What time is it?” I mumble to myself, staring at the clock on my phone for the tenth time. The race has already started, but I’m still here, sitting on my damn couch like an idiot.I should be there. Max expects me to be there. I’m his fucking coach.But after yesterday’s argument, I don’t know if he even wants to see me.I rub my face, feeling the weight of indecision pressing against my skull. Max was pissed. I saw it in his eyes. That frustration, the way he clenched his jaw, the fire burning behind his words. And now, I’m hesitating like a coward, wondering if my presence will just piss him off more.Fuck it.I grab my jacket and keys, shoving my doubts aside. Max is more than just some racer I’m coaching. He’s… hell, I don’t even know what the fuck he is to me. But I care. And that means getting my ass to the damn track.By the time I get there, the crowd is thick. Engines roar in the distance, tires screeching against pavement. The scent of burning rubber clings to

BlazeWhere the fuck did it all go wrong?I keep asking myself that, like there’s some moment I missed—some switch that flipped when I wasn’t looking. It’s stupid how I was starting to think he was being nice. Fucking nice to me. As if he ever could be.I drag my fingers through my hair, stepping into the bar I used to work at. I haven’t been here in months, but it still smells the same—sweat, stale beer, cheap perfume. Something about it makes me feel grounded, like maybe if I sit in this booth long enough, I’ll remember who I was before everything went to shit.Before Carlo.I slide into a seat near the back and wave the bartender over. The guy recognizes me, offers a crooked smile, and pours me the usual without asking.I take a sip. It burns like hell. Good.My thoughts are a fucking mess. My head won’t shut up. All I hear is his voice. All I see is his fucking face. And that part of my chest—the stupid part that does that bathum… bathum shit like some lovesick idiot—it won’t fuck

Blaze“It’s fucking gone,” I mutter under my breath as we pull up to the building.Flames aren’t licking the sky anymore, but the smoke—fuck—the smoke still hangs like a dark fucking omen above what used to be my apartment. Fire trucks are parked haphazardly, sirens off now, lights still spinning like it’s all some twisted party I wasn’t invited to. I stumble out of the car before Carlo even fully stops it.Part of the building is still standing, but the right side, my fucking side, looks like someone ripped it apart and tried to cook it. The firefighters are already wrapping shit up, the worst of it over, but all I see is black char and twisted metal where my room used to be.“No. Fuck. No,” I whisper, running a hand through my hair. My heart’s pounding. Not just from panic, but from this helpless, stupid feeling of loss. All my shit’s in there. My jacket. My tools. My fucking sketchpad. Everything.Carlo stands next to me, silent, watching the building like it’s a goddamn TV show. I