“Please. Don’t insult my talents.” He presses a large hand against his heart while his lip wobbles on command. I like the way he drags out his vowels and emphasizes his Ts, his accent unplaceable yet distinct from my fused American-Italian one.
“All two of them?” I shake my head at him.
He drops his head back and lets out a deep laugh, not giving a damn about the staring parents around us.
“And what two talents do you think I have? Do tell.” He smiles at me, revealing straight white teeth. An idea pops into my head about mucking up his perfect face, wanting to take away his prettiness and remove some of his appeal.
I tap my chin with a paintbrush. “Bribing people and not taking a hint. Two very undesirable traits if I do say so myself.”
He shakes his head at me, his lips fighting a smile. I squeeze black paint out onto the palette and swirl my brush in the dark color.
My fingers raise his chin, revealing bright eyes and thick, dirty blonde lashes. “Now keep still. I don’t want to ruin the look before it starts.”
The stranger shudders when my fingers press against his face, my brush sweeping across his skin, black paint replacing tan skin. He smells clean and expensive, a mix of freshly showered with some fancy cologne. His blue eyes remain on my face the entire time except when I ask him to close them for me to paint his eyelids.
His obvious perusal surprises me. I center myself, wary of my desire toward him, from the way my cheeks flush to the feeling of my skin heating up as it touches his.
I concentrate on my task while ignoring his glances. He looks young, but still too old for me. I’d guess he’s probably in his mid-twenties from the looks of him, showing the smallest smile lines when he laughs. Our faces remain mere inches apart as I paint his face, familiarizing myself with every divot and scar that mars his skin. Black paint contrasts against sharp cheekbones.
I trace the curve of his neck with the end of my paintbrush, eliciting the slightest shiver from him—one so subtle, I almost miss it. “Do you care if I paint your neck?”
His heavy-lidded eyes capture mine. “Do I get to kiss yours after?”
“I’m going to ignore you because you’re way too old for me.” I wish I could take the words back the instant they leave my mouth.
“Says who?”
“Says the fact that you look like you have a decent savings account and a stable job.”
His lit-up eyes hold me in a trance. “What an observant princess. What about me screams that I have a big bank account?”
“I rock Converse on a first-year uni student’s budget while you wear Gucci sneakers and corrupt kids with a Louis Vuitton wallet.”
“Ah, how perceptive. Eighteen is definitely too young.” His eyes dart to the side.
“Yup. But lucky you, I’m not too young to blow your mind.” My brush taps on his face, hinting at my artwork.
He laughs, and for some reason, I like making him smile. I grab the mirror off the table and reveal how he looks.
“Holy shit. You seriously have some talent with a brush. I look like someone’s worst nightmare.”
That’s because you are.
He shoots me a smile that makes me feel all sorts of things, both good and bad. I find it difficult to ignore the tug of desire I have toward him despite our age difference.
I grin at the skull face painting I did. Spinal cord bones trail down his neck, intermingled with black and white faux muscle tissue, disappearing beneath his black T-shirt. Blue eyes starkly contrast against the black paint. His smile dims, revealing a row of teeth I created. The design is hauntingly beautiful, just like him, a man too old and too wicked for someone like me.
“Whoa. Liam, I didn’t even notice you with that sick makeup. Sophie’s talented, eh?” Evan, the man who asked me to do this ridiculous task in the first place, interrupts my moment with Liam.
Liam lifts out of the chair. His long legs make the task ridiculously easy, drawing my attention toward his body. His firm sculpted-to-perfection body.
Evan nudges Liam in the ribs. “Sophie, you did an awesome job. It matches how dead Liam’s going to be after he doesn’t land on the podium this Sunday.”
“That’s what you always say, except I kick your ass almost every time.” Liam’s voice has a hint of edge to it.
Dots connect because F1 has only one driver named Liam.
Liam freaking Zander. Germany’s most revered and F1’s up-and-coming star, wreaking havoc with Noah Slade and Jax Kingston since their young karting days. The racer who’s on track to win his first World Championship this year. The same man who’s almost seven years older than me.