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Liam
Jax and I spend our free time relaxing in the McCoy motorhome suite area. I lie on a gray leather couch, scrolling through my phone, passing the time before the Russian Grand Prix practice round. Shanghai finished on a high note. The weekend went by fast with a bonus of spending time with Sophie.
Sweet Sophie with lips meant for kissing and a body made for fucking. The girl who looks at me with wide eyes whenever I flirt with her, tempting me to give up on my dry spell. The same one who’s popped into my mind over the last week more times than I care to admit.
My phone vibrates. A new text from Claudia lights up my phone, disgust sitting heavy in my stomach as I open another unwelcome message.
“Claudia sent me another nude.” I delete the picture before it saves onto one of the clouds.
Jax grunts before taking a swig of his water. “Mate, she’s obsessed with you. I thought she would let go of it by now. It’s been two months already.”
A groan escapes my lips as I try to wipe away the mental image of Claudia lying down in bed without clothes. My life has become a recurring nightmare of unsolicited photos, trashy articles, and ridiculous press releases.
“I didn’t want to block her number, but I don’t have a choice. I pray she doesn’t come to any races because I can’t handle that type of crazy.”
Jax winces as he runs a tattooed hand through his hair. “Sucks how you can’t tell McCoy about it with her being Peter’s niece and all.”
“I’ve told my agent, but he tells me not to cause waves during a signing year. He wants to make sure I get the best contract deal out of this. So, it’s just me and my right hand, till death do us part.” I wiggle my hand at Jax.
He barks out a laugh as he throws a pillow at me. “Keep that shit to yourself. No one needs to know about your sad masturbation schedule.”
“This is my life now. Oh, how the mighty have fallen.”
“Either you’re amazing in bed, or she’s plain crazy.” Jax cracks up at my frustration. Asshole.
“I don’t see why it can’t be both.” I smother my head with a pillow to tune out Jax’s roar of laughter.
* * *
The sponsor gala for the Russian Grand Prix keeps the vodka flowing, therefore supplying me with a buzz to make it through the night. Small talk sucks. I schmooze for a good hour before I itch for fresh air.
I walk out onto the venue’s balcony, taking in a panoramic view of the Sochi mountain ranges. My head snaps toward the sound of ice clinking against a glass.
I stroll toward the woman, recognizing whom the blonde head of hair belongs to. The dimly lit patio basks Sophie in a soft glow and emphasizes how her dress clings to her silhouette. Like a beacon of light enticing me with her back displayed, she teases me with the sparkling material dipping low and hugging her ass. My fingers yearn to drag themselves across every bump in her spine. I tuck my hands in my pockets to resist the urge. Lately, I’ve exercised enough self-control to rival a monk.
As if Sophie senses my gaze, she looks over her shoulder, hitting me with an expressionless face. She acts like an ice queen with no readable emotions. I let out a low laugh when she knocks back the remaining contents of her drink—her only fucking tell. She abandons the empty cup on a nearby table before she leans against the balcony’s railing and looks toward the sky.
“What are you doing out here?” I walk over to her, eliminating the space between us. Just because I can’t touch her doesn’t mean I can’t get close.
“One of my favorite things is to stargaze. I love to see the moon and stars, but it’s hard out here with all the light pollution. Did you know some towns are creating lighting restrictions to protect the nighttime environment and prevent the issue?”
“Can’t say I knew that. I would’ve never pegged you as a night lover.”
Her laugh has an airiness to it. I wouldn’t mind making her laugh again, liking the sound almost as much as her voice. “I am, but I’ve made myself into a morning person. I’ve got a schedule to keep and whatnot with school and studying. These events are way past my bedtime.”
“Ah. So, let me guess. You like to wake up at the ass-crack of dawn, follow a tightly bound schedule, and go to sleep before midnight. Like clockwork. Rigid, high-strung, and sex-free. That type of thing,” I half joke.
“Routines aren’t always a bad thing. It’s the unknown we have to watch out for.” She eyes me curiously, as if she wants to get a read on me. “But during the summer, I love staying up late and laying out by the pool in my backyard sometimes. I stare into the dark, thinking about my day, like what went right or wrong. Maybe an occasional wish whispered up to whoever listens.” Her wistfulness stirs up something in me.
My limited attention span focuses on other things she may do under the night sky. I might be suffering from a temporary lapse of judgment.
She shifts her body to face me, giving me a full view of her as her eyes roam over my body. I stand taller at her perusal, my lips lifting at the corners. A beaming smile graces her face when she catches the sneakers I wear with my suit. I tend to be a boy at heart, ditching classic shoes for white sneakers with a snake embossed design on the side.
“They let you wear shoes like that?” Her voice rasps.
“I copied the look from a girl who preferred sneakers with dresses over heels and gowns.” I lean on the railing and stare at her.
She laughs as she pulls up the hem of her long gown to reveal a pair of white leather sneakers with embroidered stars. Fuck me. While all the women inside limp from too-tight shoes, she wears comfortable sneakers hidden from the world. And for the first time, I don’t prefer fuck-me heels. I want a pair of tan legs and silver starred sneakers wrapped around my waist instead.
