‘Well...’ she hums low in her throat, her hands tangling in my hair as she eyes me ‘...now that you come to mention it...’
I go to kiss her and she drags her mouth away. ‘But you will take me out in the car...after?’
I nod against her mouth, our noses rubbing. ‘I will.’
I go to kiss her again and she ducks away more. ‘You promise?’
‘I promise.’
I’d take her out every day in that damn car if I could just keep her...
I pull her under me, bury my hands in her hair, my mouth desperate over hers as my body comes alive, the heat rushing to my groin as my heart beats panicked, wild...
It’s the same urge that struck the second I looked down into her glowing face after she lost it so completely against my hand, my car. The same urge I had when I looked down at her kneeling before me, submitting.
I want to wrap my arms around her. I want to keep her close. I want to have her always.
It’s why I walked away in the parking garage, created distance, space to breathe, to think clearly. To shoot it all down before she got wind of my thoughts, because a relationship isn’t what she wants. In fact, I warrant she’d run so very fast in the opposite direction if I dared hint at how I feel.
That, against all the odds and my better judgement, I’m falling in love with her.
And there isn’t a damn thing I can do about it.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Olivia
‘YOU READY FOR THIS?’
I’m buzzing, the adrenaline rush from driving these cars is comparable only to sex with the big guy next to me, who’s looking a little grey. Not for the first time this morning I want to ask if he’s feeling okay. But when I did so over breakfast, he quickly assured me he was fine. And I don’t want to mollycoddle him, but...
‘Sure.’
He doesn’t look at me as he says it. His eyes are fixed on the track and the line-up of supercars, their glossy exteriors screaming power and prestige, the glorious sunshine glinting off each and every one. ‘Which do you fancy first?’
He shrugs. ‘It’s your track day; you choose.’
I wrap an arm round my middle, grip my elbow as I touch a finger to the corner of my mouth and hum as I ponder them all.
‘The McLaren?’
He nods and I turn to take him in properly, his blue jeans, his deep grey sweater, all casual, but his stance is rigid, his hands like fists inside his pockets. I can’t bear it. We’ve spent every night together since the football and many hours in between, usually on the pretext of working, but we seem incapable of concentrating on anything but each other. And every moment has been easy, enjoyable—too enjoyable—but I’m not worrying about that right now.
I’m worrying about him.
And part of me says I shouldn’t. I should push on. Because showing I’m worried shows that I care, and caring...caring just gets complicated.
But I do care...
‘Are you sure you’re okay?’
He turns to look at me, shakes his head. ‘Sorry, yeah. Just distracted.’
‘Want to talk about it?’
He reaches out, cups my cheek and his eyes... God, his eyes...my chest squeezes tight. ‘What is it?’ His lashes lower but I can’t forget how they looked. Lost. Haunted. Sad.
I force a smile. ‘It can’t be that bad, can it? It’s a beautiful day, the sun is shining, the air is crisp, and now we get to drive the track. No traffic, no city chaos.’ I touch my hand over his and smile. ‘It’s our day.’
His eyes lift and his smile creeps into them...at last. ‘You’re absolutely right.’
‘Hey, Liv, which one are you taking out first?’
I turn to see Harry walking towards us and Valentine’s hand falls from my face, but I grasp it in mine, intertwine my fingers with his. Harry catches the move but says nothing. He knows me well enough now, and never have I brought someone to the track with me. And even though he knew I was bringing a man, I don’t think he expected that someone to be more than just a business associate. Which he isn’t...but he is...and now isn’t the time to debate it, though the debate is cropping up more and more.
I smile over my mental ramble. ‘The McLaren.’
‘Sure thing.’ He filters through the keys in his hands and tosses me the right one. ‘And go steady, yeah, none of your usual shenanigans.’
He winks as he says it and I know he’s winding me up, but I can’t miss the way Valentine’s fingers pulse around mine. He can’t seriously still think I have some sort of death wish. Not now that he knows me. The real me.
‘You want to drive first?’ I say, trying to ignore the sting of it.
‘No. It’s your track day. You drive.’
‘Come on then.’ I tug him with me and throw a grin over my shoulder to Harry, tell myself to quit overthinking everything and being so oversensitive. ‘Thanks, Harry! She’s a beaut.’
‘You’d know; you take her out every time. Not that you’ve bought her yet!’
‘There’s always today.’
‘Yeah, yeah.’ He laughs as he shakes his head and walks off into the stands.
I look back to the line-up and the adrenaline is already pumping fast through my veins. The physical appeal of the cars all the more profound for the power beneath their bonnets, just waiting to be unleashed. ‘Which one do you reckon wins on looks alone?’
I’m making conversation now, anything to put his strange mood behind us and get him involved.
‘The Aston.’
I’m almost surprised he’s answered me, and I smile, look at the vehicle in question. It’s deep turquoise and sexy as fuck. A sheer muscle car and so very him. ‘I might have guessed.’
And when I look back at him I see a spark in his eye, a spark that’s been lacking all morning, and I feel better already. ‘In that case, you get
