Racing Hearts Book Novels & Stories

Exactly what the contract was designed to prevent. She was breaking the rules. And she didn't know how to stop. --- On the fourth night, everything changed. Mira was in the library, curled up in one of the leather armchairs with a book she hadn't touched in an hour. Rain lashed against the floor-to-ceiling windows—a sudden storm that had rolled in around dusk, turning the city lights into blurred smears of gold and red. Thunder rumbled in the distance, close enough to make the glass tremble.

he remarked, his words making my heart race. His gaze held mine, a subtle intensity in his eyes that sent shivers down my spine. The air in the kitchen suddenly felt charged, and I could sense a growing tension between us. I bit my lower lip, trying to contain the nervous energy that danced within me. "Alexei," I murmured, my voice barely a whisper. He took a step closer, closing the distance between us. The warmth of his presence enveloped me, making my heart race even faster. His fingers gently traced the outline of my jaw, sending electric currents through my body.

She was focused on racing and didn't even bat an eyelid at him. The growl of the engine resonated through Eva's core, a primal rhythm that quickened her heartbeat to a frantic drum solo. A surge of forgotten passion coursed through her veins, a heady mix of adrenaline and defiance. In that moment, the roar of the engine wasn't just noise; it was a symphony of forgotten dreams, a battle cry for a past she'd locked away. This wasn't just a race; it was a reawakening, a taste of a life she'd yearned for, a life where the thrill of the chase coursed through her very being. It had been far too long.

I floored the gas pedal, my heart racing as fast as the engine beneath me. The longer I took, the more I feared that Cameron might harm Jessica. If he was involved in drug trafficking, it meant he was capable of anything. His heart was as dark as they came, and all I could do was pray that Jessica would still be fine when I got there. As I approached, I could see Cameron waiting in a secluded corner of the parking lot. Cigarette butts littered the ground at his feet, a clear sign he had been waiting for a while.

She has no time to buy a different one. She was picked up by Theo at exactly 7 pm that evening and his eyes went round with appreciation as he took in the whole package. He thought he hit the jackpot. While he was rejoicing, Eliza was feeling the opposite. For some reason, the person she has in mind as a date was a European-looking male with deep set gray eyes who happened to be staring at her when they entered the restaurant. Those gray eyes are looking stormy right now as he took in the pair who just entered the restaurant. Eliza's eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets when her eyes collided with his. Did she just conjure him up. Why is he causing unwanted sensations in her? Isn't she fi

Killian I glared at her, a wave of deep-seated hatred radiating from my heart for the enemy’s daughter. But it was nothing compared to the intense desire that spiraled from my core. The contrasting emotions confused me, while my body reacted to the nearness. With our bodies fused, all logic fled my brain, and I continued to stare at her. Her mesmerizing green eyes had me under her spell. My co*k swelled against her soft curves, as we stayed locked up in that position for minutes, staring at one another.

They no longer felt human emotions. I couldn't tell if Magnus' treatment of me came from fear of the drug inside him, or from some genuine desire to care for me. How did I become so hesitant, so unsure of myself? Maybe it was because I had never really known love. When I was young, Anya had been gravely ill. My parents poured every bit of their hearts into her, and to them, I was just the extra, the one they could overlook. Perhaps that was why, later, I gave my whole heart to Victor just for the smallest bit of kindness. And now with Magnus, love was still my greatest weakness.

But those who had helped him get here. And who no longer needed to touch him. Because they didn't have to. He was carrying himself now. The hallway before the ring was cool, dim, heavy with a dull, pulsing anticipation. The rubber floor swallowed every step in silence, yet it seemed like every step under Lennox Graves' soles echoed—not outside, but within. His heart didn't beat faster. But harder. Each thump was a command to his body: this is the minute. The arena doors opened slowly ahead of them.

Fear creeping behind her eyes. Fear. She gripped the glass railing so hard her nails dug into her palm. “No,” she whispered. “I don’t break. I don’t run.” But she was running. She poured herself a drink, neat whiskey in a crystal tumbler, her hands trembling just enough to betray her. The liquor burned down her throat, but it did nothing to chase the image of Richard slumped in a hospital bed, nor the thought of him surviving long enough to open his wretched mouth in a courtroom.

He gunned the engine, ignoring the signal and speeding through the intersection, the rush of adrenaline fueling his reckless drive. Rosie's terrified voice still lingered in his mind, fueling his desperation to reach her. He yearned to sprout wings and fly to her side. But reality cruelly denied him that power, leaving him to rely on his car. So he drove like a madman, weaving through traffic with a daredevil's abandon. The risk of an accident barely registered in his mind; all that mattered was getting home, getting to Rosie. Skidding tires, blaring horns, and screeching brakes accompanied his frantic journey, his sole focus fixed on reaching her before it was too late.