Blog Tour / Excerpt Reveal: Racer – Katy Evans

Racer já lançou lá nos EUA, mas para aguçar nossa curiosidade ainda , eu traduzi um trecho do livro para nós sabermos o que nos aguarda .

Excerpt Reveal 

Eu ainda estou chocada. Enquanto as pessoas abordam ele , ele corta um caminho direto para mim, seu olhar penetrante e como alvo; me fazendo  querer fugir. Os lábios dele fazem essa inclinação ascendente que parece tão sexy, e por um segundo, sinto que estou tonta.

Eu engulo  e então sinto-me  brava comigo mesma por ter agido como algum idiota como  o maldito diabo-Racer Tate me alcança , senta-se  em um assento ao meu lado e se vira para olhar para mim com expectativa com o mais lindo sorriso no rosto. 

Não sei o que dizer.

Esse cara me deixou sem palavras.

Então.... Eu digo olhando à distância no seu mustang caindo aos pedaços, então para ele. 

"Então... "ele diz também, em sua voz grave, seu sorriso um pouco mais forte do que era há dois segundos. Ele olha para minha boca.

Aí meu Deus.

Porque eu estou mordendo meus lábios?

Eu abro a boca para falar, mas não  encontro  as palavras. Ele cheira a suor e sabonete e xampu, e sinto meus mamilos traidores apontarem até meu top novamente. Por que fazem isso quando ele está por perto?

"Isso é ilegal " eu aponto.

Sua voz é rouca de esforço, e os olhos cintilam com o riso. "É por isso que é divertido." Fico longe de seus olhos, tentando me concentrar e arejar a cabeça. Ele se inclina e se aproxima do   meu rosto, seu rosto sombreado pela luz da lua e sua mandíbula agora carregando uma pequena barba. "Estamos de acordo?" Ele pressiona.

Não". Eu encaro e balanço a cabeça, encontrando o seu olhar arrogante. "Você é imprudente, Racer." "

Você,  também Alana."

 "É só... Lana." 

Suas sobrancelhas voam em surpresa. "E uma pequena   mentirosa também."

Eu torço meus lábios, ainda encarando como meu olhar de volta para seu carro. As meninas estão esfregando contra ela como se fosse dele, e acho isso nojento. Por que as mulheres sempre agem tão vulgar em torno de motoristas de carros de corrida e meninos bad boys ?

Você bateu seu carro,"digo levianamente.

 "Você bateu meu carro," ele se contradiz, se divertindo. 

Eu dou risada , em seguida, carranco em sua direção. "Você bateu mais. Não acredito que você estava fazendo um espalhafato em eu batendo   em você, quando era só um beijinho — 

"ele se inclina a bicar meus lábios — rápido mas com firmeza. "Isso é um beijo.

Eu perco meu fôlego .

Meus olhos arregalam.

Ele facilita a volta, lábios sorrindo como ele chega ao seus pés e se estende a mão para levar-me pelo cotovelo e ajuda-me a levantar . 

"Vamos sair daqui." Ele começa a andar, liderando o caminho. "

E ir para onde?" "

Em qualquer lugar em que eu  consiga  colocar minhas mãos em você."

*****

I’m still reeling. While people approach him, he cuts a path straight to me, his gaze penetrating and target-like; making me want to bolt.

His lips do that little upward tilt they do that seems so sexy, and for a second, I feel like I’m lightheaded.

I gulp, and then feel mad at myself for acting like some idiot as fucking devil-Racer Tate reaches me, throws himself into a seat next to me, and turns to look at me expectantly with the most gorgeous grin on his face.

I don’t know what to say.

This guy has left me sort of speechless.

“So … ” I say, staring in the distance at his beat-up mustang, then at him.

“So … ” he says too, in his deep voice, his smile a little more wicked than it was two seconds ago. He glances at my mouth.

Oh god.

Why am I licking my lips?

It only made his eyes narrow and darken.

       ​I open my mouth to speak, failing to find words. He smells like sweat and soap and shampoo, and I feel my traitorous nipples push up to my top again. Why do they do that when he’s around?

“This is illegal,” I state.

His voice is husky from exertion, and his eyes glint with laughter. “That’s why it’s fun.”

I look away from his eyes, trying to focus and clear my head. He leans over and peers into my face, his face shadowed by the moonlight and his jaw now carrying a little scruff. “Are we in agreement?” he presses.

“No.” I glare and shake my head, meeting his cocky gaze. “You’re reckless, Racer.”

“So are you, Alana.”

“It’s just … Lana.”

His brows fly up in surprise. “And a bit of a liar too.”

I purse my lips, still glaring as my gaze goes back to his car. Girls are rubbing against it as if it were him, and I find it disgusting. Why are women always acting so slutty around race car drivers and bad boys?

“You crashed your car,” I say flippantly.

“You crashed my car,” he contradicts, amused.

I laugh, then scowl in his direction. “You crashed it more. I can’t believe you were making such a fuss about me crashing into you when it was just a little kiss—”

He leans in to peck my lips—fast but firmly. “That’s a kiss.”

I lose my breath.

My eyes wide.

He eases back, lips smiling as he comes to his feet and stretches his hand out to take me by the elbow and help me to my feet.

“Let’s get out of here.” He starts walking, leading the way.

“And go where?”

“Anywhere I can get my hands on you.”

 I’m still reeling. While people approach him, he cuts a path straight to me, his gaze penetrating and target-like; making me want to bolt.

His lips do that little upward tilt they do that seems so sexy, and for a second, I feel like I’m lightheaded.

I gulp, and then feel mad at myself for acting like some idiot as fucking devil-Racer Tate reaches me, throws himself into a seat next to me, and turns to look at me expectantly with the most gorgeous grin on his face.

I don’t know what to say.

This guy has left me sort of speechless.

“So … ” I say, staring in the distance at his beat-up mustang, then at him.

“So … ” he says too, in his deep voice, his smile a little more wicked than it was two seconds ago. He glances at my mouth.

Oh god.

Why am I licking my lips?

It only made his eyes narrow and darken.

       ​I open my mouth to speak, failing to find words. He smells like sweat and soap and shampoo, and I feel my traitorous nipples push up to my top again. Why do they do that when he’s around?

“This is illegal,” I state.

His voice is husky from exertion, and his eyes glint with laughter. “That’s why it’s fun.”

I look away from his eyes, trying to focus and clear my head. He leans over and peers into my face, his face shadowed by the moonlight and his jaw now carrying a little scruff. “Are we in agreement?” he presses.

“No.” I glare and shake my head, meeting his cocky gaze. “You’re reckless, Racer.”

“So are you, Alana.”

“It’s just … Lana.”

His brows fly up in surprise. “And a bit of a liar too.”

I purse my lips, still glaring as my gaze goes back to his car. Girls are rubbing against it as if it were him, and I find it disgusting. Why are women always acting so slutty around race car 

drivers and bad boys?

“You crashed your car,” I say flippantly.

“You crashed my car,” he contradicts, amused.

I laugh, then scowl in his direction. “You crashed it more. I can’t believe you were making such a fuss about me crashing into you when it was just a little kiss—”

He leans in to peck my lips—fast but firmly. “That’s a kiss.”

I lose my breath.

My eyes wide.

He eases back, lips smiling as he comes to his feet and stretches his hand out to take me by the elbow and help me to my feet.

“Let’s get out of here.” He starts walking, leading the way.

“And go where?”

“Anywhere I can get my hands on you.”