by Lauren Asher
“How did you plan all of this?”
“I had a little help.” He shoots me a rare shy smile.
“Right. Busy life of an F1 driver.” It impresses me how he made an effort to make sure something nice was planned.
“We can pretend for a night that none of that exists. No talk of your brother and no bringing up Baku. You’re a girl and I’m a guy on a normal date.” He flashes me his usual mischievous smile.
Did I say he looks like trouble already? Still waiting on the warning label.
I agree to his terms. We eat together, talking about anything and everything. He tells me about his favorite TV shows and the best cities in America. I say how I’ve never been there, and he insists I need to go at least once, offering to show me around and take me to the best food places. I tell him about my failed attempts at graduating on time, being held back a year after I figured out I wasn’t meant to be a Spanish Elle Woods attending Harvard.
“Let’s play a game.” Noah hits me with a mischievous grin.
“Seriously?”
“Dead serious. Ever heard of two truths and a lie?”
I roll my eyes with minimal effort. “What are you, eighteen and attending your first college party?”
Noah lets out a rough laugh. “I never went to college. Entertain me?”
I nod because I’d do just about anything with him smiling at me the way he does.
“Whoever loses has to chug straight from the wine bottle for five seconds.” His smile reaches his blue eyes as the candlelight flickers across his skin.
“Okay, since this is your bright idea to get me tipsy, you can go first.”
He chuckles to himself. “I’m an only child. I spend thirty minutes a day watching the news. And I lost my virginity in the back of a pickup truck.”
I cough at his last statement, aware of how this game will go after one round.
“Pickup truck is a lie. You look like a thousand-thread-count kind of guy.”
His eyes light up. “Nope. You got it wrong. I hate the news, so I stay away from that shit.”
Well, damn. Guess Noah is an American boy after all, getting down and dirty in the bed of a truck. I grab the wine bottle and take a chug, holding up a finger for each second that ticks by.
“Your turn.” He winks at me.
“My brother announced his Bandini contract on the same day as my graduation. I’ve gotten into five fender benders. I crashed my brother’s first date.”
“Five fender benders? That’s excessive for someone young.”
I shake my head and point to the bottle sitting next to us. “Nope. I never crashed my brother’s first date even though my parents wanted me to. Santi paid me fifty euros to watch a different movie. He got his hookup while I got a new pair of shoes.”
“One, how do you still have a license? And two, your brother told everyone about his Bandini deal on your special day? How fucked up,” Noah says before taking a chug from the bottle I drank from, his lips wrapped around the same spot mine touched.
I shrug. “I can still drive because the officer felt bad when I cried, begging me to stop. And Santi couldn’t help the bad timing.”
“Sometimes he can be a real dumbass. He could have waited a day at least.”
Guilt runs through me at us talking about Santi this way because I love my brother. Noah doesn’t care much for him. Stupid to hope they could get along—for the sake of the team or for me.
“He has the best heart. Truly. I can’t get mad at him for more than a day at most. Not even when he stole all my Barbies and shaved their hair off.”
“That should have been the first sign of his instability.”
A loud laugh escapes my mouth. We play a few more rounds with me losing a couple times while Noah guesses my lies with ease, surprising me how he sees through my bullshit. Wine calms my nerves and takes away my awkwardness. I learn a few things about Noah like how he skipped senior prom because of a race, and how he spent seven different Christmases by himself since his parents were both traveling. A truth I guessed as a lie because who spends the holidays alone?
We move on from our game. I share the success of my vlog, and how for the first time, I feel like I found my place. How I don’t worry as much anymore about being successful or comparing myself to Santi’s career.
“What’s your favorite part of the vlog?” He gives me his full attention, his blue eyes wandering over my face.
“Mm, that’s a tough question. It originally started out as a travel vlog, but now everyone loves how I work with F1 and Bandini. Fans seem to be super into it. And they’re constantly sending me new ideas of things to do or people to interview.”
“I wonder if I’m the best part.” His cheeky grin makes me show one of my own.
“I doubt it because people beg for Liam and Jax. Must be their accents.”
He scoffs. “It’s tough to compete with Jax’s British accent. Liam on the other hand… German tends to lack sexiness.”
I shake my head from side to side because Liam sounds fine. “There’s a reason people like Prince Harry. Or any attractive British guy.”
“You find Jax attractive?” His tight smile tells me I didn’t say the right thing.
“I mean, people find him attractive. But I went on a double date with him and realized he’s not my type.” I trip over my own words, wanting to put them out there.
“It wasn’t a double date because I was there. That makes it automatically friends hanging out.” His eyes glint in the soft lighting.
“Liam’s been asking Sophie for a redo, but she keeps saying no.”
“We don’t want that to happen,” his voice rumbles.
When did he get close to me? Our hands are practically touching.
“And why not?” Another breathy sentence from me.
“Because I already called dibs on you.” His intense gaze makes me shudder.
“You can’t call dibs on people. You sound like a B-list rom-com.”
“But I fuck like an A-list porno.”
Okay then. Who says romance is dead? My throat tightens as his eyes lower, taking me in. He closes the space between us.
A hand tugs my head toward him. Our lips meet. But unlike our first kiss, this one demands. Noah takes everything from me all at once, his lips brushing against mine, intense and irresistible. This somehow beats our first kiss. We have no one around to stop us, no interruptions to pull us away from each other this time.
One of his hands grips my hair and tugs. The quick bite of pain makes me gasp, giving his tongue access to my mouth. It strokes mine possessively, branding me, not giving me a second to overthink anything. My tongue meets his and strokes back. I want to taste him and make him crave me just as much.
My fingers run through his hair and he groans when I grip the silky strands. I want to pull him in closer, desperate for what he can give me. My body hums with approval as he fucks with my brain and heart at once.
If this was a movie, now would be the moment for cheesy fireworks to go off in the background.
My back hits the blanket and my hands travel across his chest, checking out the different muscles. He doesn’t let up on his own exploration, his hands roaming down my body while our tongues stroke one another. I feel lightheaded from the contact.
I moan when he cups my breasts. My nipples brush against the fabric of my bra, wishing for the barrier to be gone, another obstacle we don’t need. My body pushes into his, frantic for more.
His mouth leaves mine. Rough fingers find the hem of my shirt at the same time his lips find my neck. The nipping, licking, and sucking sensations drive me crazy. His mouth does wild things to my body. Aroused doesn’t begin to describe the intense burn inside of me as my breasts grow heavy with need and my core throbs.
I rub myself against his hardened length. My jeans feel rough against my thong, temporary friction giving me some relief. Fingers clutch the hard muscles of his back before my nails scratch against the fabric of his shirt.
“You’re going to make me embarrass myself if you keep grinding against my cock,” he mumbles before returning his attention to my neck. His lips move toward my chest. A new task.
My cheeks heat at his disclosure. But it feels great to make him desire me because this man makes me feel a whole lot of things. The good, the bad, and the absolute dirtiest.
“Don’t get shy on me now. Fuck that.” His lips meet mine again, this time with a soft and intimate kiss. I find myself unprepared for any of these feelings, Noah overwhelming me. Kissing him feels like so much more.
I regain consciousness and place both of my hands on his chest, pushing him softly. He gets the hint and lifts off me.
“Ah, your brain caught up to you. It was fun while it lasted.” He rubs a thumb against my swollen lips.
“I don’t do this type of thing.” My hands gesture between the two of us.
“And what is that?” He inches closer again. I hold up a hand, making him pause. His lips distract me and make me want to kiss them again. But I need to get this out before it’s too late.
“This. I don’t do casual. Random hookups.” Hell no. Not after kisses that set me on fire and make my brain numb.
He abandons his seductive mood. His grimace makes me second-guess my reasoning, and for a brief moment, I’m afraid about making the wrong decision. I may be irresponsible with other things, but I need to lock my heart up around someone like him. Stay true to my values.
Noah is the type to unwillingly chip off pieces of my armor until I have nothing left. If his kisses make me mindless, I can’t imagine what other things with him will do to me. No one told me how much it sucks to be responsible and honest.
“Why not? We can call it quits when the season’s over. No harm done.”
I seriously doubt that because I can tell from a couple of kisses that’s not the case. It hurts to hear him be cavalier about it, but it’s not unexpected from someone like him.
His reaction gives me more strength about my decision.
“Uh. I don’t think that’s true. At least for me. I don’t want to catch feelings for someone who isn’t looking for a relationship. I’m not that type of girl, a no-strings-attached person.” I clasp my hands on my lap, preventing any fidgeting. I’ve only had a handful of exclusive boyfriends in my life.
“Feelings?” His voice gives away his aversion to the idea.
Note to self: he’s not a fan of that F word.
“Yes, feelings. People like you leave a trail of broken hearts behind. I don’t want to be one of them, another notch in your damaged bedpost.”
“I’m not looking for a girlfriend. I have a crazy schedule and racing is my life, so I can’t promise you anything but something sexual. And that we’ll have the best sex you’ve ever had in your life. I can tell by our connection.”
My exact worry. Looking at him weakens my resolve, but I need to stay strong.
“I’m the type who needs more than a physical relationship with someone. I’m not the booze-and-banging type you usually hang around with. I can’t change who I am to be what you want.”
“You’re really going to deny yourself this?” His reaction shows me how no one denies him. Evidence of his messed-up childhood, the ultimate only-child syndrome shining through. He trails a finger down my neck toward my chest. I gasp at the scorching sensation his finger leaves behind, unhappy how my body becomes aware of his touch instantaneously. It’s a shame to deny what my body craves.
“Yes.” My panting voice doesn’t exude the firmness I need it to. I swat his hands away, ending his spell.
“We can stay friends. Not the benefits kind though, but I’ll avoid you less.” I nod, convincing myself that this is the right decision. My honesty about avoiding him feels like progress.
“Right.” His blank expression fills me with dread. Am I making the right decision?
Our dinner went well. Comfortable and easy, something that feels like it can be much more than a casual fling. But people like him don’t fall in love. I don’t need to open myself up to potential misery with someone from Bandini.
Noah gets up and reaches out for my hand. My skin warms at his touch. Yup. I absolutely made the right choice because this is a one-way ticket to heartache. We walk through the sand toward his motorbike. I look back at the picnic area, my heart tightening at the abandoned sight of it. Despite the less than ideal ending, this was one of the best dates I’ve ever been on and I’ll always remember it.
I put on the helmet and his jacket without a fight, a chill running through me at this ending. The smell of him is intoxicating and unfair like it’s wrong to breathe in.
Noah stays quiet as he gets on the bike, his mind drifting off to somewhere else, erecting a wall between us. I don’t give him a hard time getting on. He starts up the engine, and we take off back toward the hotel. The ride feels shorter as if Noah’s desperate to get us back. I don’t take it personally.
He drops me off in the parking garage shortly after, pulling the motorbike up to the elevator like a gentleman.
“If it were another life, I’d probably do right by you. I’d take you on dates and try harder. But that’s not who I am or how I was raised. I don’t know how to be the kind of emotional guy you desire.”
My eyes water, clouding my vision. Everything feels final. We’ve circled one another for three months, and now it’s over, gone in the blink of an eye. I respect him for sharing and being honest about who he is.
“Thank you for a great date. It’ll be a hard one to top, even with everything.” I sneakily inhale one last breath of his jacket before passing it back to him.
“Likewise.” His cocky grin doesn’t exactly reach his eyes.
“I better get going. Santi will be wondering where I went for so long.”
He presses the button. “Yeah, sure.” His arms pull me in for a hug while his lips brush softly against mine, giving me a goodbye kiss that should be reserved for lovers—intimate, kind, and packed with unspoken words. My heart perks up before he pulls away.
Elevator doors open, the empty car a welcoming sight. I walk in and turn around.
“Bye, Noah. See you tomorrow.”
His intense gaze is the last thing I see before the doors close.
20
Noah
The first thing I feel when I wake up is the pulsing of my head.
The second thing I feel is a hand crawling up my chest.
The third thing I feel is intense regret.
Fuck. Please tell me it’s Maya’s hand.
I look down at long, red nails. Maya’s don’t look like these talons scratching at my chest, preferring natural nail colors. These hands are a symbol of my past. Nausea crawls up my throat as I lean my head back down on a pillow.
I comb through the memories of last night, of how I took Maya out on the date I planned. Never thought I could have such a good time with someone while doing absolutely nothing except eating, drinking, and kissing.
The date was my favorite, at least out of my short list.
And the erotic way Maya kisses. Fuck me. Kissing her feels like I did it wrong with all the women before her.
But what the fuck happened after? I struggle to remember what I did once she pulled the stops on me. Images flash of her rejecting me with sadness in her eyes, knowing I can’t give her what she needs. The ultimate blow still feels fresh based on the way my chest constricts at the thought.
Memories hit me all at once, flooding my brain with unwanted recollections. Lots of shots. Liam and Jax at a club, groups of women coming onto us at our VIP table. It feels like I went back to a time before I met Maya.
Shit. My crappy decisions proved Maya’s point of not being the type of guy she wants to date. Not in the slightest. I sure as fuck wouldn’t want to date someone like me.
My back lifts off of the mattress and a blonde girl topples off me.
“You need to go. Now,” my voice rasps. Another reminder of my bad decisions, along with my dry
mouth and aversion to sunlight.
I don’t want to spend another moment with this woman, the look and feel of her all wrong. Her rose scent, mixed in with the smell of sex and booze, chokes me, incomparable to Maya’s fresh one. My stomach rolls at the thought of how badly I fucked up.
I head to the bathroom, choosing to brush my teeth first, wanting to cleanse my mouth from the taste of that woman and alcohol. My battered-up face makes me wince. Disgust rolls through me at my sunken eyes and pale, sickly skin.
I take a shower, eager to rid myself of the woman’s smell and everything else associated with her and a bad ending to my night. By the time I get out, there’s no sign of her, except for the underwear she left on a pillow. My body shudders as I dump her souvenir in the trash.
I pull my phone from the plug, glad I remembered to charge my battery. At least I made one responsible decision because, overall, I’m a fucking idiot.
Are you shitting me? I didn’t set my alarm, missing my practice sessions.
Shit. Shit. Shit!
I bolt out of my hotel room, desperate to make it to my qualifier on time.
I’ve never been so damn irresponsible in my life.
It doesn’t shock me when my day goes from bad to the fucking worst. My qualifier starts out as a shitshow. I rush to get my race suit on and chug a gallon of water to make sure I don’t pass out behind the wheel under the hot conditions. Sophie’s dad looks pissed as fuck about my tardiness, glaring at me as I swallow down a granola bar.
He fails to hide his distaste. “You look like shit. You’re not a young kid anymore, staying up late to party. I expect this from anyone but you.” His sneer tells me everything. James Mitchell isn’t one to fuck around with because he has balls bigger than King Kong. His green eyes stare down at me while he runs an agitated hand across his face. His gray hair remains in place, unlike mine standing up in different directions, the waves untamed from my hands.
“I’m extremely sorry; this will never happen again.” No apologies can erase my terrible decisions.