Have fun tonight, angel. Text me tomorrow if you’d like me to come over and make breakfast.
My heart. He took the time to check in.
I send a quick reply, suddenly not so eager to let go of my phone.
EB
I’d love that. I miss you. What are you up to tonight?
I hold the device to my chest and survey the group, weighing my options.
I spent the last couple of hours sitting in my hotel room, thinking about Alaric. About the way he held me this morning. About the expert way he touched me. How he drove me to the brink of orgasm then backed off. I’ve never been edged like that before—at least not intentionally, though I’ve had plenty of partners who couldn’t get me there. How Alaric knew right when to pull back, and just how much more intense my orgasm would be, was nothing short of pure magic.
It still kills me that I couldn’t return the favor.
I want to see him, taste him, and explore his body with the same reverence he showed me this morning.
With a wistful perusal of the room, I silently scold myself.
These are my friends. My closest companions. The people who have stuck with me through so much. Who supported me throughout my tumultuous relationship with Luca and who have stood by my side and even stood up for me as I’ve navigated working in the world of Formula 1 after dating and breaking up with a driver.
Thoughts of Luca remind me of the risk associated with my latest crush.
Crush. No. The word is far too elementary for my feelings toward my ex-boyfriend’s dad.
We share an intense attraction and a sort of subliminal, intuitive connection. It’s heady and poignant, yet light and natural. Alaric’s like gravity, and I’m free-floating matter. All I want is to be anchored by his personal brand of care.
It’s dangerous, what I’m considering.
Because despite knowing I shouldn’t jump headfirst into a relationship right now, I don’t think I can do casual with this man.
Our connection is too strong, the care and adoration he showers me with already too addicting to overlook. I truly shouldn’t be considering this at all.
He’s too old. Too serious.
He’s Luca’s dad, for crying out loud.
And he’s my boss.
Then there’s the team to consider. Given how the last man in his position disgracefully left Granata, a sensible or professional way to proceed does not exist.
“Earth to Evan.” Shelby sidles up beside me and bumps me with her hip. “You’ve got the goofiest look on your face, girl. Who’s got you smiling like that?”
I shake my head to clear my thoughts, realizing that my cheeks hurt from grinning so wide.
“Oh, no. I—I don’t…”
Her face drops, her lips parting. “Oh god. Please don’t tell me you’re back with Luca.” She sucks in a breath, hissing through her teeth. “I freaking told Mia this would happen. If you two are back together?—”
“No,” I interrupt. “I’m not back with Luca. Never again, Shelbs. I swear.” Maybe I’ve made the same declaration before, but this time, I mean it.
“Has he given you any more trouble?” she asks, her voice softer. “I can’t believe Mia slapped him. And I’m more surprised that she seems to have gotten away with it.” With her arms crossed over her chest, she shakes her head, homing in on her sister across the way.
I sigh, memories from the ball smacking into my consciousness.
Has Luca given me anymore trouble beyond accusing me of being a gold digger and sleeping with his dad for money? No.
But that’s because he hasn’t had the opportunity to run his mouth since then.
