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His face twists in disbelief, then morphs into a slight grin, and then drifts back to shock. He looks so conflicted that I’m unsure whether he wants to accept my offer or tell me that I’m ridiculous.
“I want you to win, and if sleeping next to you will help, I’m happy to do it. My suite is right next to yours, I’m going there now. Feel free to join me. Unless you’re more comfortable sleeping in your room. If so, call me. Text me. I’ll come over. Think about it.”
I nod in his direction, as if I’m a general giving orders during a war. Then I walk away. Tanya’s at a high-top table, tapping away at her phone, and I have to pass by her to get to the elevator.
“Everything okay?” she asks, glancing up from her cell for a fraction of a second.
“It’s perfect.”
“Saw you talking to Max. Hopefully you were somehow inspiring him for tomorrow. He’s looked pretty glum since practice. Not sure what’s gotten into him. Look at him, all alone over there.”
We both glance over at Max, who is still standing at the terrace railing, staring at the cityscape. He looks forlorn.
“I might have nudged him in the right direction,” I say cryptically.
This gets Tanya’s attention, and she raises an eyebrow. “Care to share?”
I shake my head and shoot her a coy smile. “I understand what motivates him, that’s all. I’m headed to bed. Good night.”
She hums ahmmmmas I walk away, and honestly, I don’t care what she thinks—which is probably a mistake, but I’m operating on sheer adrenaline right now. My heart is beating so fast that I’m almost out of breath by the time I get to my room, and I let out a rueful, silly laugh.
This gives a whole new definition of taking one for the team.
◊
I’m perfectly calm as I shower and change into a T-shirt and a pair of soft cotton shorts. Whatever happens tonight is out of my control.
I made an offer to Max. An unorthodox, completely bananas offer, now that I think about it. I grab my book and climb into bed, trying to shove back my weird, conflicted feelings.
The book is a romance, and I’m getting to a sexy scene when I pause and set it down.
Will he think I invited him over for sex? Probably not. I’m well aware that like most drivers he doesn’t have sex the day before qualifying or a race. At least, he never did before, and when we were together, it was the one rule we never broke.
There’s a soft rap at the door and I fling the covers off. A look through the peephole reveals Max, biting his lip and glancing around nervously.
I fling the door open and stand aside while he comes in. He’s wearing a plain white T-shirt and basic blue sweatpants, but with his tousled blond hair still looks like he’s fresh off aGQfashion shoot. No shoes, no socks. His phone is in his hand, and he grins a crooked, wicked expression that makes my heart race.
“I thought about it, and even though it’s a little, uh, unusual, it’s worth a try. Figured it would be better in your suite.”
We stare at each other like we’re firming up a business deal.
“I was reading in bed, so we can, you know.” I point to the bedroom. It’s like we’re in a deleted scene on an episode of some bad reality TV program. Inviting a man that I’d had sex with on numerous occasions into my bed is suddenly more awkward than I could have ever imagined.
“Okay. Yep. We’re doing this. I’m actually tired, so . . .” He runs a hand through his hair.
“Yes! Let’s get to it.” I clap my hands, feeling ridiculous.
We troop into the bedroom and stop suddenly, the large bed with the white duvet staring right at us. Like his room, the entire place is decorated in red, white, and blue. The pillows are of various sizes and seem to have multiplied in the last hour. The headboard is a bright red, plush and quilted. My mind goes to dirty places, imagining me on all fours, him behind me, my hand pressing against that headboard.
No, no, no. Bad Lily.
“Which side do you prefer?” I gesture to the bed, my index fingers dancing up and down.
“Umm.” He strokes his chin. “Right.”
“Cool.” I go around the bed and climb in. It’s the side near the closet. I stare at him expectantly. “Is the temperature okay?”
He looks around, as if that will help him decide. His gaze lands on the photo of Willie Nelson, and a slight frown flashes on his face. “It’s acceptable.”
