“You’d definitely know if you have, so I’m going to go with no, which makes my heart ache for you. This must be rectified.” She claps her hands excitedly.
I grin at her, not ready to tell her my secret. She doesn’t need to worry because I’ve got big plans. Just me, my list, and months of adventure.
5
Liam
My F1 season starts strong, with me finishing within the top three for the last two races with nineteen more to go. The whole season makes up about ten months of the year with a summer and winter break worth a month each.
A racer lifestyle keeps me conveniently busy, making it hard to relax, let alone settle down. My schedule limits my time with family to a few visits per year, like during my home race and short holidays.
It’s not like I try to stay away. Distance numbs the dull throb taking up residence in my chest whenever I see my nieces. Time fails to ease the emotional distance between Lukas and me, adding to our strained relationship, along with missed calls and limited brother time.
In short, I’ve married my job because it’s a hell of a lot easier than dealing with my family.
Sounds of popping champagne bottles and laughter emanate throughout the ballroom. Whoever plans these parties sets the mood with soft lighting and low music, along with hot women and A-list celebrities. It’s the usual assortment of people. Drinks flow all night long, probably in the hopes that sponsors open up their checkbooks in the name of love and racing.
Don’t hate the racer, hate the sport where wealth funds the opulent lifestyle notorious with F1 racing. The F1 Corp showers us in hundred-dollar bottles of champagne for the hell of it, our sport not sparing a single expense. The events I attend are snazzy and excessive, with outrageous decor, Michelin-star food, and top-shelf alcohol.
My hiatus keeps me in check, my self-proclaimed dry spell holding me back from inviting any woman back to my hotel room. I should hang an out of commission sign around my neck because three women offer a classic “get to know each other more” that pains me to decline. My efforts deserve a medal of valor for not thinking with my dick for once.
My previous pride dissipates once the ultimate temptation shimmies up next to me. The smell of her hits me first, like the ocean on a summer day, a fucking intoxicating smell of coconuts and the beach.
I do a double take to make sure I’m seeing things right. Her hair reflects a golden hue, looking unreasonably soft, the same color I remember with a hundred shades of blonde woven together. My hands shake at the craving to run my fingers through her thick locks. A healthy glow radiates from her, her cheeks turning a soft pink color at my appraisal.
I withhold a groan. “Sophie, I haven’t seen you in years.” And those years have done her really fucking well.
Her green eyes widen in recognition, the two spheres reminding me of the rich forests surrounding my home in Germany.
Sophie is no longer an eighteen-year-old I met three years ago. Legal enough to drink and legal enough to fuck—and yes, I’d like to fuck. One look at her gains my interest, my dick twitching against the zipper of my pants.
With her standing next to me now, the age gap seems less daunting than before.
“Liam.” Sophie’s withdrawn voice makes me grin. She remembers me too, and shit, I like the way my name rolls off her tongue.
My dick may be abstaining like a priest, but my brain fucks like the devil. I may be all jokes and smiles, but I sure as shit love to fuck dirty, edgy, and rough. That’s what happens when you drive the fastest cars in the world. The idea of boring sex—vanilla and mundane—irks me. I don’t have time for shitty sex in a missionary position with a slow pace and sweet pecks. If sex isn’t desperate, crazed, and frantic, then people are doing it wrong.
I withhold a deep sigh when my eyes roam across her body. The silk material clings to her small curves and accentuates her waist. The fabric drapes low across her chest, revealing the upper swells of her breasts and delicate collarbone. I want to run my tongue across her skin, kissing the sensitive area before moving onto other places.
Fuck.
Maya coughs, bringing my attention toward her for the first time this evening. She looks nice, but I’m not interested in Santiago’s sister. Fat chance seeing as my dick throbs in my pants at the sight of Sophie in front of me after a few years.
A look Sophie and Maya share tell me they’ve become acquainted, with Maya eyeing me disapprovingly when she catches me staring at Sophie again.
I pull it together and remember my manners. “What can I get you two fine ladies?”