AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Nothing could’ve prepared me for how I felt seeing him at the gala the other day. One look from him had my heart racing like I had finished a 5K marathon a minute before seeing him. I don’t even run 5Ks, but the pace of my heart was alarming. That’s how much of an effect he has on me.
He flashes me a smile across the bar.
Ovaries, please settle down.
I shoot him a scowl in hopes of cloaking my true feelings, but his grin expands, undeterred by my attitude. He screams trouble in the worst kind of ways. His reputation is shit with women, and he struggles to keep his dick in check. I’d know, seeing as my Twitter feed’s filled with the latest F1 drama.
I cling to Maya’s side like a child afraid to let go. She becomes my protector without even knowing it, saving me from someone who promises nothing but trouble.
A few minutes later, Maya decides to sing a duet with her brother, abandoning me without a backward glance. Her disappearance prompts Liam to sit next to me on a leather couch better suited for Barbie’s dream house. That says something coming from me, a pixie whose feet rarely reach the floor while sitting.
Liam’s presence overwhelms me as his body takes up a majority of the seat. I scoot closer to the side, desperate for some space between us, edgy about how my body responds to his closeness.
He widens his legs, and his thigh brushes against mine. My skin heats at the contact, attraction flooding through me, his smoldering gaze intimidating me.
“I didn’t expect you to be such a screamer.” His husky voice sends goosebumps up my arms, his accent heavier from yelling over the music.
I choke on my drink. A lazy grin reaches his eyes and hints at smile lines at the corners. Look, something not perfect about him.
“Dirty little mind you have there.” His eyes flicker over my face. “The microphone really picks up on everything.” He points at the stage with his beer bottle.
I take him in. His white shirt clings to his sculpted chest, muscles pressing against the fabric, highlighting lean yet fit arms. Ones he can wrap around me.
Dammit, Sophie, resist.
“Mm, it’s hard to sing and dance at the same time. I have a new appreciation for performers. It’s a lot of work, and it makes you sweaty.” I take another sip of my drink, the refreshing liquid soothing my sore throat.
“You know what else makes you sweaty?” His words pull my attention back to him. Light blue irises fall on my lips before his body scoots closer to mine, his warmth pressing into my side as my body becomes highly aware of him.
“Lots of things. The gym, the great outdoors, a busted AC unit. The options are endless.”
He chuckles, the sound making his chest vibrate against my arm. “Racing does. You look a little flushed, and your eyes have a wild look to them. Are you thinking of something else? Penny for your thoughts?” The low and rough tone of his voice runs against my skin like a caress.
Nope. Not touching his first question with a ten-foot checkered flag.
“Right, racing. And honestly, you’re a millionaire. You can spare more than a couple of pennies for what goes on in my mind.” I tap on my temple.
He laughs as he lifts his drink to his lips. His throat bobs while he chugs the last bit of beer, his eyes remaining on me the entire time. I hate the way I notice everything about him. Like how good his lips look wrapped around the rim of his beer bottle or the tiniest bump in his nose hinting at a previous injury. I especially dislike the way he looks at me right now, like he doesn’t know which way he wants to fuck me first. And most of all, I hate how much I love every second of his attention.
His eyes lazily trace over my face before they fall on my chest. The audacity of this man.
“Cute shirt.” His lips twitch.
Like an idiot, I glance down. The sweet Free Hugs saying mocks me, pressing against my bust with the words centered above a prickly cactus. That’s me: a woman who has an affection level comparable to a desert plant.
“Thanks. I love graphic tees.” That sounds as stupid in my head as it does when it leaves my lips. I cringe at my inability to play it cool around Liam.
“Do I make you nervous?” Liam takes advantage of my flustered state. The contact of his hand grasping mine sparks excitement from me, an involuntary reaction I want to control. His fingers brush against my knuckles and leave behind a trail of heat. Safe to say, our stint of attraction still burns strong, unwavering with time.
I never thought holding hands could be such a sensory experience. But my mind takes control, not wanting to go there with someone like him, prompting me to pull my hand away from his.
He laughs, a full throaty sound tugging at my restraint. “You don’t need to be scared. Have a little fun.”
“I think we both have two different definitions of fun.” My version includes a laminated list of items, while his includes screwing around until he gets bored or detached.
On paper, Liam seems like a good option to help me complete my Fuck It list. But in reality, Liam would be the worst choice—too good-looking, too accessible, too risky. Not to mention, he drives for a rival team, which could result in extra unwanted press for both of us.
And to be extra honest, courtesy of tequila, completing items with Liam scares me. I thought I’d cross them off with random guys from different countries, not with one I have to see every week. Avoiding Liam will be damn near impossible, so why bother making things awkward?
