Page 126 of Downforce

I take her into my arms, placing my forehead against hers.

“I meant what I said to her, too,” I say because I’m not ready yet to discuss the little boy version of me that needed to be protected from his mother’s verbal abuse. “She will never put her hands on you. You don’t have to worry about her.”

Annalise snorts. “I’m worried about you.”

Dammit.

More words I needed to hear.

I press my lips to hers. “You know that you’re mine, right?”

“Yeah, I think I do.”

CHAPTER 34

Max

“You’re not still thinking about your mom, are you?”

I should’ve expected that question. I’ve been quiet throughout the nearly two-hour drive to Kimbolton, but it has nothing to do with my mother’s appearance at my flat this morning.

“She is the furthest thing from my mind.”

Annalise doesn’t look away, her stare indicating she’s waiting for further explanation.

“We’re going to the racetrack,” I say.

She nods. “You’ve told me that. What you haven’t explained is why going to the track where you raced for years is making you so nervous.”

“I’m not nervous.”

At this, she grins and rests her elbow onto the center console of my Amato luxury SUV in order to prop her chin into the palm of her hand to stare directly at me.

“That little wrinkle in your forehead says otherwise,” she sing-songs while pointing at it. “Do you believe you’re the only one who knows expressions?”

I glance over at her, grinning as I remember my words from last night.

“What other faces do you know?”

“Hm?” She cocks her head. “The open-mouthed smile you had on the podium this weekend while you sprayed the guys with champagne is one of my favorites.”

“One of? Not your favorite?”

She shakes her head. “You’re not smiling in my favorite look.”

“Do tell.”

Her smirk contains a little bit of devil and a hint of angel in it. If I weren’t driving, I’d lean over and cover her mouth with mine.

“You want to know my favorite look of yours?”

“I’m all ears.”

“After a race. You’re all sweaty, cheeks flushed red, your hair messy all while the fire of competition still burns in your eyes, turning them almost green instead of their normal hazel.”

I drag my gaze from the road to see her watching me as if she’s picturing me that way now.

“You also look like that after sex,” she adds. “But instead of fiery competition lighting your eyes, it’s …” She trails off.