“Barbecue, huh?” I say as I close the door.
“We can always order in,” he suggests, taking his usual seat when he’s in my office, one ass cheek perched on the corner of my desk. “I have this fantasy about licking the sauce off your fingers.”
I sink into my chair and prop my feet on the desk so I’m looking up at him. He’s like a ray of sunshine, beaming down on me with those adorable dimples and his halo of golden curls. Sunshine that radiates through my body, spreading sweet heat and strong desire, tinged with a healthy dose of fear. It’s a heady, dangerous feeling, one that leaves me lightheaded and weak in the knees and grateful I’m sitting down.
“You’ve never heard of napkins?” I ask.
“What’s the fun in that?” He leans down to kiss me.
“Not so fast.” I hold out a hand to stop him. “No PDA at the office, remember?”
“How could I forget?” he grumbles, straightening. “You won’t let me.”
“Don’t try to make me feel guilty. We both agreed it was for the best.”
“Yeah, that was before I realized we’d never have any time together outside of work.” He grimaces and shoves a hand through his hair. “It’s been five freaking days. I’m dying here.”
Ah, the impatience of youth. I want to laugh, but his expression is so tragic. Like it’s been five years and not five days since we hooked up.
“Tonight after practice. Your room.” It will be a lot easier for me to sneak around the hotel than it would be for him. Drivers get the lion’s share of the attention in F1. Something I’m eternally grateful for. “Unless you’d rather go to a bar or a coffeehouse.”
“Very funny,” he says, rolling his come-hither eyes at me. “You know I only said that for Leah’s benefit. I thought it would make the whole bromance thing more believable.”
“Then your room it is.” I pick up a folder from my desk and flip it open. “In the meantime, we have a race to concentrate on. I think our best bet is a two-stop strategy, starting on the mediums and switching to hards somewhere between laps 14 and 19. Then we can go back to mediums any time after lap 35.”
“Did you mean what you said to Leah?” he asks, suddenly serious.
The abrupt change of subject throws me off, and it takes me a second to answer. “About us balancing each other out? Yeah, I think you can safely say we’re a case of opposites attract.”
“No, not about that. Although hearing you admit you’re attracted to me is a real ego boost.” He cracks a half-hearted, surprisingly vulnerable smile. “I mean about me being the most talented driver you’ve worked with.”
“I believe my exact words were the most talentedyoungdriver.” I snap the folder shut, take my feet off the desk, and lean forward. “And yes, I meant it. I don’t say things I don’t mean.”
He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, and there’s that blush again. Fuck if it isn’t the cutest damn thing I’ve ever seen. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Good.” I stick the folder under my arm and stand. If we don’t leave this office soon, my no touching rule is going to go the way of the dinosaurs. “Now let’s get to the garage and get ready for your practice session.”
The sooner our work at the track is done, the sooner our playtime can begin.
CHAPTER15
Grady
I’ve never been an early riser. Or a quick one. It usually takes a few minutes for my brain cells to snap, crackle, and pop to life. But as I drift into consciousness on race day in Austin, I know almost immediately that something is different.
It’s not the fact that I’m sleeping in a bed that’s not my own. I’m hella used to that, being on the road as much as I am. Or that I’m sans pajamas, totally nude. That’s par for the course, too. It’s the man sleeping in the bed with me, as naked as I am, his head buried in the crook of my neck and one thigh thrown over my hip.
I lie there, not wanting to breathe too heavily much less move for fear of disturbing him, watching him like I’m some sort of creeper. It’s only our third time together—time number one being Monaco and number two last night after my practice round. And it’s the first time he’s stayed long enough to fall asleep with me.
It scares the shit out of me how much I like that. Neither one of us is looking for a relationship. I’m deep in the closet, and he flat-out told me there’s an end date on whatever it is that we’re doing.
So why am I catching feelings? Why does this feel like—more?
I kiss the top of his head, loving the slip-slide of his silky hair on my lips. Awake he’s the strong, calm, man-of-few words type. Asleep he’s more vulnerable, relaxed and soft, his sinfully long lashes laying like dark fans against his pale skin, his pouty mouth open slightly, his bare chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm.
“What time is it?” he mumbles into my armpit.
I look over at the digital clock on the nightstand. It’s barely six, and we don’t have to be at the track until eleven for the pre-race strategy briefing.
