Some people scurry at trouble. Me on the other hand? I drive my car straight into problems at two hundred miles per hour. Fuck the consequences.
“Do you mind if I sit here?”
Her body tenses at the sound of my voice. I’m not off to a great start by the looks of her grimace, rigid body posture, and stilled hand holding her straw. But I can work with it. I shoot her a dazzling smile that makes women drop to their knees. Tested and verified.
I remain motionless as her almond eyes look up at me. My heart rate speeds up as I gaze upon her, taking in her smoky eyes that cloud at my perusal, lush lips that purse, and high cheekbones I want to run my knuckles across. Her dark hair piles on top of her head, begging to be let down. A few soft curls escape and trail down her thin neck. Her dress dips low, accentuating tan skin and a fully displayed back. My fingers itch to stroke her skin and test how soft it is.
She pulls me out of my thoughts. “And if I do mind?”
Shit. Forgot I asked her a question. “I would probably sit here anyway then.” I give her a wide smile, enjoying her quick tongue.
“Fine, go ahead.” She lets out a soft sigh and waves toward the empty booth in front of her.
Don’t need to be told twice. I settle myself into the seat, adjusting my pants because my semi hard-on is pressing against the zipper. My throat welcomes the burn from a swig of Scotch. A little bit of liquid courage to make it through this conversation without flirting with her.
“I wanted to apologize about earlier because I shouldn’t have insinuated something like that. I’m not proud of myself for what I said.”
Brown eyes linger on my face as she gauges my sincerity. I take another look at her because shock still courses through me at how she disarms me. Her bone structure adds to her allure, along with full red-painted lips, long lashes, and straight, white teeth. She has a strikingly exotic look—a Spanish heritage evident by her dark hair, tan skin, and hint of an accent.
My head takes off. I imagine her red lips wrapped around my cock as she sucks me off, her lipstick marking me while my hands tug on her hair. Can’t help my sexual appetite when I fuck like I race—wild, risky, and often. Blame the adrenaline rush or feeling like a god behind the wheel.
“It’s fine.” Her flat voice tells me differently. Fine is a woman’s equivalent to a land mine because you have absolutely no idea when or where that shit will explode.
“It isn’t, and I don’t want to annoy you anymore. Honestly. I want to put it behind us and say I’m sorry for insinuating you slept with your brother.” I withhold the urge to cringe at my own stupidity.
“Consider it dealt with. Apology accepted.” She fiddles with the straw of her drink.
“What are you doing here with your brother?” I take another sip of Scotch, the cold liquid sliding against my tongue.
“I’m actually following him around this whole year.” She tilts her head at me.
Great. She’ll be spending ten months with us, and I already fucked up.
“You’ll be attending a lot of races then. Are you a fan?”
A small smile tugs at her lips. “My weekends growing up included following my brother everywhere. Kart races, real races, all the Formula phases. He has the talent.” She looks down at her hands. “Of course, I’m excited to join him because I’m proud of how far he has come. New car, team, and everything.” She glances at me, her eyes gleaming in the low light of the bar while her lips fight a smile.
I smirk at her. “He’ll be in good hands with the equipment and engineers. Bandini cars are the best. There’s a reason they’re the most sought-after team, so it’ll give him an advantage. But he still has to deal with me.”
The sound of her soft laugh stirs something up inside of me.
“How do you keep your ego in check?”
“I don’t.” My grin expands.
She rolls her eyes, and fuck if it doesn’t turn me on. Her delicate features entice me, tempting me to scoot in closer to check her out and catch a peek at her chest. But I stop myself because I have a cap of one sleazy move per day. I can’t believe I insinuated she slept with her brother. I’m losing my touch.
“You need someone to rein you in.” Her cheeks turn a pretty shade of pink before she shakes her head. “I mean, not me, but it’s always good to be grounded.” She puts a stray curl behind her ear.
“Being grounded is dull. I don’t drive cars at two hundred miles an hour to stay boring.”
Her lips purse and her brows pinch together. “Being grounded isn’t boring. It’s realizing that, when all of this—” she waves her arms around us—“is over, you still have people there for you in the end. Good people who are humble because no one wants to hang around an asshole.”