by Lauren Asher
“Sophie, they’re used to fast cars. We’ve got this.”
That gleam in her eye? Definitely should be worried; no doubt she wants to kick our asses.
Turns out Maya does precisely that on the first run. I had no clue she was talented with a kart, and fuck it turns me on. I could blame the fact that I haven’t kart-raced in a while, but she’s a natural at it. Absolutely wiped the track with us.
My dick twitches at Maya sitting there, gloating in her kart, arms up in the air in triumph. She looks sexy as fuck with her helmet and borrowed race suit. I didn’t peg myself for having a racing fetish, but looking at her now makes me rethink the idea, especially when she whips off her helmet to reveal messy hair.
An unknown sensation from the top of my head to the tips of my toes surges through me at planning something she likes. She smiles at Sophie from the mini podium they have meant for kids. I wish she would smile at me like she does with others, beautiful with a hint of trouble. Liam and I grab the champagne bottles I kept hidden in a bag and spray them all over the girls.
“Hello, aren’t we the ones who should be spraying champagne?” Maya gets the words out between laughs.
Liam and I pass them new bottles that are the same ones we use on the stage. Went for the full F1 effect today. I pop the cork before letting go, the bottle nearly dropping before Maya grips it with two hands.
Maya proceeds to pour it all over me. The cool liquid runs down my shirt, wet material plastering to my torso. Her eyes heat up at the sight of my abs before they roam over my body. I give her a wicked smile. She hops off the stage, lunging to the side, but my reflexes make me quicker.
I haul her over my shoulder like a fireman’s carry. She squirms about, making it difficult for me to hold on to her. My hand smacks her ass playfully to get her to stop.
“Ay! Watch it. That’s the no-go zone.” She shakes from laughter.
No clue what the no-go zone is, but I’m all for exploring it. She should know by now that I don’t follow the rules, preferring to bend them into submission.
“Precious cargo. Everyone, please move out of the way.”
Kids and parents part at my request. Maya’s giggles turn into a snort, which makes her laugh more, her body vibrating against mine.
“The blood’s rushing to my head. I can’t think straight.”
“Join the club.” I refer to a different head than she is. She gets the joke a second too late and her body shakes from more laughter.
“Oh my God, you can’t say stuff like that. Like ever.” More laughs as I smack her ass again. I love the feel of it beneath my palm, my dick stirring while a smile breaks out on my face.
I carry her to the waiting town car. We all drive back to the hotel, soaking wet from champagne. Maya gives me the biggest grin that reaches her eyes, and damn if my lungs don’t burn at my sudden intake of breath.
“Hi, everyone. Maya here with the amazing Noah Slade. He agreed to do an exclusive interview for my vlog.” She looks gorgeous with her hair down. Today she wears shorts that show off her golden legs, ones I want wrapped around my waist while I pound into her. I’m so curious to hear the different noises she makes during sex. Is she a screamer? A moaner? I’ll volunteer to figure it out.
She smiles at the camera she situated on a rolling cart in the pit garage. We position ourselves next to my race car, the vibrant red calling my name as Maya’s ass leans against it. Low beeps from the pit computers sound off in the background.
“You think I’m amazing?” I forget the camera for a second. Like the sad sap I am lately around her, I love hearing anything she has to share, any revelation about her feelings. A fucking breadcrumb would be nice. She taunts me daily despite the way she guards herself, keeping her lips sealed, both literally and figuratively. There are few opportunities for us to be alone. Sophie magically finds us every time we get a moment by ourselves, which makes me want to take drastic measures to spend time with her, including this exclusive interview.
And everyone knows I hate interviews.
She rolls her eyes with minimal effort. “Hush, I wonder if you consume extra calories to feed your ego. Anyway, fans want a backstage exclusive. They’re curious to learn more about you. So I copied a famous game called Web’s Most Searched Answers.”
She passes me a cardboard poster with my name in a Google search bar, along with a bunch of tape-covered questions. I recognize it so I guess I’m famous enough to play it.
“Our first question is…” She expectantly looks at me, making me smile. Her parted lips tempt me to take a risk and kiss her.
I cough to cover up a groan, and then I tear off the tape for the first piece of paper.
“What is Noah Slade’s height? Well, I’m six foot. Which is considered on the taller end for F1. They make the cars to fit around our bodies specifically. My feet are near the tip of the front wing up against the pedals.”
Her hands motion for me to continue. All right, I get it.
“Who is Noah Slade and Santiago Alatorre.” I pause. “I’m Noah. No surprise there. And Santiago is my partner and Maya’s brother.” I point at her like an idiot because obviously they know that. “He’s a Spanish dude who’s loud and rarely beats me at racing. Still needs to work on his overtaking skills and not crashing into me from behind.”
Maya sticks her tongue out at me, making me think about her tongue on other places of my body. Not a convenient time for a boner with cameras rolling. I shift against the hood of the car, discreetly adjusting my pants.
“Ha. Ha. Everyone can tune in for your comedy career once you’re done with racing.”
Fat chance that happens. I chuckle as I rip off the tape to reveal another question.
“What is Noah Slade’s net worth? I’m not one to brag because that’s not polite and I was raised better. But I think last time I checked, about three hundred million. Give or take. Received good advice from my financial advisor about always investing your money. Don’t let it sit in the bank gathering dust. So that’s what I do to multiply the amount I do have. Not to mention real estate investments.”
Maya lets out a low whistle. “I’m impressed. We’re talking to a World Champion here who gives free monetary advice.”
“You know what they say…the bigger the bank account…” I waggle my brows.
Maya ignores the camera and throws her head back. I love the sound of her laugh; pride surges through me at amusing her. Her exposed neck entices my inconvenient one-track mind.
“Who is Noah Slade’s wife?”
Wow, she picked hard-hitting questions here.
I continue. “I’m currently on the market. I’ve never married someone so that’s a negative. Is the statement no wife, happy life?” I wink at the camera.
“I think you mean happy wife, happy life.” Maya blushes and shakes her head.
I chuckle before I keep going. “Where does Noah Slade live? I’m not going to give away my addresses here because I can’t have paparazzi and fans at my doors all the time. My limited privacy is the best part of the off-season. But I own an apartment in Monaco, a house in Italy, and a loft in London. Favorite place to live is off the Amalfi coast during F1’s winter breaks. Hands down the best food and views.”
“Who can resist gelato? I’ve never been to Italy, but the food is my favorite. I can’t wait until the Prix stop in Milan. All right, two more left.” She clasps her hands together and looks at me. She crosses her legs again, drawing my attention toward them once more. I lick my bottom lip before continuing.
“When is Noah Slade retiring?” I blink at the board. I never think about retiring, choosing instead to focus on the next year. I’m still young enough to not worry about it. But the question makes me think about what I’ll do once I hit my late thirties.
“I bet you anything that Liam and Jax google this yearly. They’re probably waiting for my announcement since they’re younger. I don’t doubt it.” Blood rushes to my dick at the sound of her giggle. I need to get out of h
ere before I do something stupid on camera. “Uh. I haven’t considered retiring anytime soon. But I imagine if I meet someone special and have kids, I may consider what’s best for my family. But for now, I plan on kicking everyone’s asses.”
Maya looks surprised at my answer. Hell, I am too. When the fuck have I thought about having kids or a wife? But the answer falls from my lips with ease, like I think about the notion occasionally.
“You never know what could happen in the future. But I’m sure you have plenty of time to figure it out. F1 racers don’t retire until like forty years old. Basically, you’ll be ancient once you leave here. Okay, last one.”
Is that even what I want? To keep racing at the risk of not having a life to go back to once it’s all done? I don’t want to be like my dad, who parties with twenty-somethings on private yachts, cruising around by myself. The thought creeps me out.
“Best Noah Slade team radio?” My team radio videos on YouTube are hilarious. “If you look me up on the internet, you can find lots of videos of me cursing at the team and myself. A team radio is how Bandini and I communicate about race stats, car info, and problems. My personal favorite video is the British Grand Prix from 2014. Watch it if you haven’t seen it. You’ll be entertained. The pit crew forgot to connect my water pump and I was basically a cranky baby without a bottle for an hour.”
I glance at Maya. Her eyes look up at me and fill my chest with a warm feeling.
“Thank you so much for joining us, Noah. Those were the most googled questions people wanted answered about Noah so I decided to go straight to the source. This week I’ll have exclusive footage from the McCoy team, including interviews with Liam and Jax. Stay tuned. Subscribe if you haven’t already. See you next time!” She waves to her camera before shutting it off.
She looks like a natural, both gorgeous and confident. It’s cool she’s found something she can be passionate about. Especially if it keeps her entertained and coming back to all the races because I don’t mind these one-on-one interviews at all.
“You forgot one more question.” I don’t think as the words leave my mouth. It seems like the perfect chance to have her alone without any interruptions of the blonde-haired, green-eyed variety.
Maya stares up at me, confusion lining her face.
“Will Noah Slade ask Maya Alatorre on a date?” I flinch at my pathetic pick-up line.
Not exactly my best work. I blame it on being out of practice, not the way my heart races in my chest at the fear of her rejecting me.
“A date? You don’t date.” She messes around with her camera tripod.
My hand engulfs hers to stop her fidgeting. Her body tenses as I rub my thumb across her knuckles, something I noticed she liked during the few times I’ve done it.
“I want to try. What’s one date?”
“Uh, for someone who doesn’t ever date…everything.” She tugs on her hand, trying to free it, but I don’t let it go. Not until I get what I want.
“It’s one date, don’t be dramatic. I’m not asking for a forever… Are you scared?” I goad her. “We don’t need to put labels on anything. Let’s have fun.”
“Of course I’m not scared. You just want to have fun?” Her brows raise and her lips form a tight line.
Maybe she won’t be happy with no labels, even though most chicks I get with don’t mind. Or maybe fun was the wrong word to say because now she looks at me in a way I can’t read.
“Then go on a date with me. Tomorrow?” I can’t tell if she wants to shut me down.
“My brother can’t know. He would lock me up before killing you,” she sputters.
All right, she didn’t say no. I can work with it.
“What he doesn’t know won’t kill him. We’re only having a good time together.” I want to tell her to stop making a big deal of this. Hasn’t she tried no strings attached? But she agrees, making it a win for me. If there is something I live by, it’s how there’s no time like the present.
I stride away, throwing a victorious grin over my shoulder.
19
Maya
“No way. I’m not getting on that thing.” I cross my two index fingers in front of me in an X. If only my mom could see me making responsible decisions. She’d be proud.
“Live a little.” Noah’s eyes gleam while mine narrow, not sharing his amused look. He looks eerie with a flickering light above our heads, foreshadowing this bad idea.
A shiny motorbike brings a frown to my face, the steel gray paint polished and sleek, like an alien spaceship. It should come with a warning label.
Hell, Noah should have a walking, talking warning sign.
We wage a battle of wills in the parking garage of the hotel we’re both staying at with Bandini. The garage makes the perfect place to meet up for our date since we can avoid the paparazzi and my brother. Just Noah, me, and a dimly lit lot. I don’t have my usual chaperones keeping me in check. Much to Sophie’s dismay earlier, I declined her invitation to third wheel our date. Appreciate her loyalty though.
“Come on. It’s not scary. I promise.”
I roll my eyes. Anyone will say that to get me on the back of a contraption.
He steps toward me, wearing down my defenses. He talks low and slow to me like I’m a scared dog in an alleyway.
I push my lower lip out and cross my arms, not above pouting to get my way. If it works on my parents, then it could work on Noah.
But he doesn’t take the bait. I need to work on my delivery because it sucks.
“Don’t make me carry you onto it. I’ve driven motorcycles since I was thirteen. I’m still alive.” He waves down his body, bringing my attention to his leather jacket and dark jeans. His outfit screams bad boy in every good kind of way. Instead of making me feel better, he distracts me with his tight-fitting shirt, which accentuates his firm muscles.
How does he make casual look so good?
“Is that supposed to make me feel better? That’s illegal! Who in their right mind would let a child on a motorbike?” Did anyone ever watch over him as a kid?
He chuckles, not bothering to address my comment. Instead, he grabs a black helmet from the seat and puts it on my head, adjusting the straps to fit my chin. I’d consider it a lovely gesture if my heart wasn’t in my throat at the moment.
I wasn’t exactly expecting this when he told me to wear jeans and a comfortable top earlier.
“You’re one hard date to please,” he grumbles.
I’d rather not have my body splayed across a street like roadkill.
“Have you even been on a real date? Usually normal people go to a restaurant, have dinner, and end it all with a kiss. Stay within the comfort zone.” I paint a picture for him since he seems like a visual kind of guy.
His chest rumbles with laughter. “I’ve dated before, but I’m far from normal. Why wine and dine you? I’m going to get what I want anyway.” He waggles his brows.
Well, excuse me. I can’t ignore the pang of jealousy when he mentions other dates. For once, his arrogant attitude wears on me.
Who does he think he is? Sex with me is not a given because I am not one of his bimbos. I don’t hand that shit out like Halloween candy.
“That’s one of the worst things a first date has ever told me.”
Another hand tugs through his hair as he sighs. He may be sharp on the racetrack, but his people skills suck. I withhold the temptation to stick my tongue out at him because it’ll encourage him more.
“It gets cold with the wind. Take my jacket.” He slides the leather jacket off his back and passes it to me. The moment I put it on, a smell that’s distinctly his with a hint of leather surrounds me. It calms me down a teensy bit.
“Please do this for me? It’ll be fun, I promise. If you hate it, I’ll park the bike and order us an Uber.”
His sincerity does me in. I accept my fate and walk up to the spaceship.
It’s one date.
I sigh. “All right. Because you asked nicely.”
I’m so screwed.
Five minutes later, we speed down one of Baku’s seaside streets. The smell of the ocean relaxes me as the city lights blur past us. Lucky for him, I don’t suffer from motion sickness because this bike hits maximum speeds. I grip onto Noah’s waist for dear life as tires tear across the pavement. My hands accidentally brush up against his abs, and I casually run a finger across them, interested in counting the ridges. He laughs at my failed attempt to be subtle. The rumbling sensation of the motorbike beneath my ass and touching his abs is turning me on.
Did he plan this on purpose? My body presses up against him and my arms wrap around him, leaving no space. Even my legs plaster tightly against his to make sure I don’t fall off. If it wasn’t risky, I’d wrap them around him as an extra safety precaution. The whole situation comes across as intimate despite my bubbling anxiety.
Everything feels different with only Noah and me. No press, no friends, no distractions. We strip away all the extra stuff getting in the way of us spending alone time together.
He streams music through a pair of speakers, making the whole experience much more enjoyable than I thought. Ocean mist hits my face as we get closer to the beach, and I love every second of it. I won’t admit it to his face though because he gets to gloat enough as it is.
Noah eventually pulls the bike into a secluded area by the shore. I hop off, anxious to break our physical connection. My chest tightens at the scene in front of us.
A couple of lanterns outline a picnic area, looking unexpectedly romantic.
“Just fun?” I mumble under my breath, the date not screaming casual to me.
“Relax. Don’t make a big deal out of it.” He grabs my hand and pulls me toward the colorful blanket.
I settle into one of the cushions on the sand. A picnic basket is open off to the side, along with a bucket with chilled wine. The sound of waves crashing against the shore makes the perfect soundtrack.
A wave of uneasiness threatens to take away my happiness. Noah’s lips say casual, but his actions speak differently. People propose in less cute ways. I take a deep breath of the salty ocean air to calm me down, hoping a few inhales can cure my insecurity about Noah’s intentions.