Racing to You: Racing Love, Book 1 Read Online Free PDF Page A

leads strongly enough that I know exactly where to go. He pulls me down a side alley to a door and pushes it open.
    “Where are we going?” I whisper, though I don’t know why. Everything is so quiet.
    He pauses. Inside, a dim bulb illuminates a narrow staircase. “My team flat.”
    He lives here. And he’s taking me inside. I barely know him, but I want off the street. I’m so sick and terrified of the crowds that the empty stairwell and its gentle lighting cry safety.
    He asks, “Have you seen the light show?”
    “No.”
    He squeezes my hand. “Come up.”
    Going with him feels a little strange, a bit dangerous, but more—exciting. He wants to show me the lights.
    His dimple pinches. “You’ll like it.”
    My lips curve up. “Okay.”
    Keeping my hand, he leads me up the stairs. I should let go of him, but I like how his hand feels, warm and comforting. It won’t hurt if I hold it for a little longer.
    The staircase hits a landing. “One more floor,” he says. Anticipation laces his tone. He measures his steps for me. The hall lighting is dim, but walking behind him, I can see his jeans. And not like American baggy jeans, like skinny-cut Euro jeans. His ass is firm and begging to be squeezed.
    I trip on the step.
    “Whoa.” He turns and supports my elbow. “You going to make it?” His eyes are a rich golden-brown, sweet and syrupy like honey.
    “Uh-huh.”
    He winks at me and continues tugging me up the stairs.
    My breath comes faster. It’s from the stairs. It has nothing to do with his honey eyes, or his ass in those jeans, or the way his whole body glides up the stairs with pristine animal grace.
    We reach the second floor, and murmurs spill from the door into the stairwell.
    “This is it,” he says, and with his hand on my lower back, nudges me into the dark apartment.

Chapter Six
    It’s dark, but I hear chatter and feel a breeze from the balcony. It’s chilly, but the air smells salty and clean. I hadn’t realized how musty and derelict the air on the street was from the party. Up here, it smells like the sea.
    A shot of envy snaps in me. He lives here. The view of the Mediterranean in the day must be wake-up worthy.
    “Everyone’s on the balcony.” He leads me through the dark. Five people on the balcony block the railing. “Gary, make room. She hasn’t seen it yet.”
    A silhouette, who I assume is the solemn, dark-haired guy whose bike I knocked over yesterday, moves to the side. “Hi, Aurelia,” he says.
    “Hi, Gary.” I’m glad it’s too dark for him to see my heating face.
    Once the view is open, my attention is stolen.
    An enormous fountain glitters, rainbow lights dancing on the surface. I can’t tell if the lights shine from above or below the water, but the colors are low and muted. From the water, lumières take flight. Yellow flames flicker inside shapes of fluttering silk. They float higher and higher, the silk sprouting from the little globes like wings.
    It’s breathtaking. An orchestra replaces the pop music with ambient tones. The building-sized parade floats are gone, sucked back into the darkness like monsters in the night. The masses of people are hushed, transfixed by the “light show”.
    I had envisioned lasers or fireworks, but this is truly artistic, all the more beautiful following the noisy parade.
    The lumières dip and dive, their flames deepening to orange. Like chicks hatching from eggs, they bloom with the flames; their silk coverings expand to full-size birds in flight. They flicker faster and brighter, swooping through the air. The flames bleed to red. The crowd “oohs” and “aahs”. The music speeds, racing in time with the silk birds. An ominous ending builds. Things cannot end well for the lumière birds , the music says.
    One bursts into flames, and another. Fire consumes their silken wings. Like the phoenix at the end of its life, they couldn’t sustain their fire or their beauty any longer. The music stops and they are gone.
    The