I squeeze my thighs together. His eyes dance with mischief, looking bright and beautiful as they roam over my face. My body sucks at this active ignoring thing, having a mind of its own, leaning into Liam’s body.
“Hmm. And how did you find me here?”
“Find My Friends location.” He hides his smile.
“I regret adding you back in Canada. I didn’t think you’d use it again. Should I be concerned?”
I almost miss the confirmatory mumble under his breath. He tips his head back on the couch cushions, the sun emphasizing the contours of his straight nose and full lips.
My fingers run across the glossy magazine cover. “How are you getting ready for the race tomorrow?”
“Just checking over my car, making sure everything is up to my standards and running smoothly. Speaking of, I saw Jim in the engineering room. Did your date end early? That bad, huh?”
Liam is the type to fish for information with a spear gun.
I chew on the inside of my cheek. “Oh, it went fine. Jim’s a nice guy.” Nice, thoughtful, and too good for me.
“You mean John?”
Shit. He tried to confuse me, and it worked. Liam’s presence makes it difficult for me to produce smart sentences. His hand brushes up against the smooth skin of my legs. My body jolts at his caress, unaccustomed to his recent touchiness.
Where were these reactions two hours ago with John?
I gather myself. “John is a sweet guy. He asked me on another date since he got called in early for some engineering problem.”
Liam gives me a tight smile. “That’s nice of him. I’m sure it gets busier for engineers as we get closer to race day, with car issues and whatnot. Hopefully, he’ll have enough time to balance taking you out again.”
Did Liam have something to do with John’s early return? I find his smirk questionable, and his tone sounds a bit off.
“Does that mean you’ll be around less too? What a shame.”
He bites down on his lip. “I’ll always make time for you. But what if I don’t want you to go on a date with him or anyone else?” He grabs my hand, abandoning his attention to my legs. His touch sends a shock wave up my arm.
I look at our joined hands, unsure where to go with this.
Will I ever be ready for someone like Liam? The idea of us together feels like a collision. Something I can’t prepare for, no matter how much I want to. Instant, hard, and painful with metal crunching and sparks flying. Part of me wonders if we are already halfway there, losing control of our cars before either one of us has a chance to fix things.
“I’d say you’re acting like a possessive brother.” I drop the B-word, hoping it’ll push him away, except he does the unexpected.
He laughs. “You sure try your hardest to deny everything between us. I know you’re attracted to me or else you wouldn’t have kissed me in Canada or come to the sound of my voice.”
He trails a single finger up my leg. My skin heats wherever his finger lingers before he stops at my upper thigh and leaves his hand there.
I stare at his hand, willing it to move. Higher? Lower? Anywhere but right next to the place begging for his attention?
“You can give in, you know. I won’t judge you for it. Hell, I’ll reward you, congratulating you for your efforts at lasting this long.” He abandons my thigh as he grasps my hand in his again. His thumb traces mindless circles across the thin bones in my hand.
Earth to Sophie. Pull it together. “Uh, well, I should get going.” I pull my legs off Liam’s lap, not waiting for him to respond. His throaty laugh runs across my spine as I hightail it out of there.
I walk into the Italian Grand Prix gala with my dad, the snazzy affair welcoming us with golden lights glistening off the chandeliers hanging above our heads. A live band plays on the stage while servers offer us alcohol.
My eyes go straight to the food table. “There’s a pasta buffet. I repeat, a pasta buffet.”
My dad snorts and leads me toward my paradise. “For such a tiny person, you sure do eat a lot.”
I pile my plate with pasta and bread. “Don’t give me a complex.”
He follows me to an empty table and sits with me, giving me a solid twenty minutes of his time between chatting with sponsors and coworkers.
He looks stunned at how I shovel pasta into my mouth. “I’m weirdly impressed. If there was any question of you being my daughter, this definitely rules it out.”
I glare at him and drag my fork across my throat. It fails to have the desired effect, instead making my dad laugh loud and robustly.