Page 10 of Drive Me Wild (Drive Me #2)
TEN
JOSIE
It was a lot easier to keep Theo in the nice, tiny friend box I’d created for him when I didn’t know he wanted to sleep with me again. I mean, Theo’s always wanted to sleep with me and has made that abundantly clear since the day we met. But I thought it’d be an itch he’d scratch and then forget about. Apparently not.
As much as I hate to admit it, it’s all I’ve been thinking about since we left the last race. He’s all I’ve been thinking about. The feel of his large hand against my hip. The way his eyes light up with desire when he looks at me. The rough stubble gracing his jaw.
This is not part of my plan.
The plan is to focus on myself, not on Theo telling me he wants to fuck me until I can’t stand straight, which I have no doubt he can do. The man exudes sexual energy like it’s cologne.
“Are you okay?” Ella asks. We’re sitting in the pit garage, watching Blake and Theo do final checks on their cars before the Spanish Grand Prix. “You keep staring into space like you’re having some sort of fortune-teller vision.”
I rest my head against her shoulder. “Just tired.”
“You can talk to me, you know that, right? Breakups are always hard.”
My breakup with Andrew isn’t the issue. The fact that I’m already crushing on someone else is. Especially because that someone else just so happens to be Theo—my friend, her friend, her boyfriend’s best friend. Talk about complicated.
“I appreciate it, but I’m okay, El. Really.”
“Mm-hmm.” Ella studies me, tugging her lower lip between her teeth. I know she doesn’t believe me. “Okay. Well, my offer stands.”
“Thanks, babes,” I say. “I’m going to watch the race from the stands with Wes. Do you want to come?”
She shakes her head and grins. “And deal with Blake’s security team? No, thank you. I’ll see you at the event later, though, right?”
“Yup!”
I locate Wes in the motorhome and the two of us make our way to the stands situated by the starting line. We trudge up the concrete metal steps, side-stepping strangers sitting shoulder to shoulder in their favorite Formula 1 team’s gear. I’ve always loved the camaraderie between fans—people who might not meet, otherwise connecting, all because they love the same team.
We find our seats and settle into the hard plastic. My feet tap against the floor, crushing discarded popcorn and smushed peanut shells as we wait for the race to start. A hush comes over the crowd as the gantry light start to flick on. The moment the final light goes off, indicating the race has begun, the announcer’s voice booms through the loudspeaker.
Theo shows great pace right away, and his launch is so good that he doesn’t even need the slipstream Blake’s car gives him. He aggressively nudges his way into the corner of the first turn, forcing Blake to pull back and concede the lead. The two of them duke it out for the next sixteen laps, pushing and pulling to take the front of the pack.
During lap twenty-four, a Catalyst driver cuts too close to Theo, forcing him to clip the curb with his front right tire. He loses control of his car and slams into the barrier, front-first. The screech of metal sliding against the barricade makes the hair on my arms stand up.
I’ve seen almost every Formula 1 driver crash. No matter how minor the crash is, my heart still skips a beat, my breath catching in my chest as I wait to find out if the driver’s okay. Theo’s crash isn’t the worst one he’s been in, but it’s not a good one, either. Not that there’s such a thing as a good crash.
The camera switches between Andreas in the pit garage, standing between engineers, and Theo’s car, metal pieces surrounding it. Shit . I adjust the volume on the radio earpiece I’m still wearing so I can hear what’s going on.
“Theo?” Andreas asks through the radio. “You okay, mate?”
“Well, I just got hit by a car going 170 kph,” Theo responds, his breathing heavy. “So I’ve definitely been better, Andreas, but your concern is appreciated. Almost makes me forget that it feels like someone just smacked my head with the back of a frying pan.”
“Safety car will be there shortly. Can you get out on your own?”
There’s a pause. “No. It’s like someone sticky glued my arse to the seat. I am not having a very good time right now. I’d like a refund for this ride.”
I snort in response. Theo’s radio recordings are legendary for how ridiculous they can be.
I watch the safety car swarm his wrecked car from the jumbotron. As soon as they get Theo out of his car, he swings his foot at the tire before bending over, his left arm gripping his right shoulder . These drivers don’t care as much that they’ve slammed into a barrier as they do that their cars are ruined and their chance at a win is dashed. Now that fans know Theo’s okay, the screen switches back to the race.
I wait a few minutes before texting Ella.
Josie Bancroft
How’s Theo doing?
Ella Gold
He’s currently having a screaming match with Russell because he’s refusing to go to the medical center.
Getting Theo checked out after an accident is akin to getting a toddler to agree to a flu shot. It’s always a fight. The last time Theo went to the med center was when Blake was in a bad crash last season, and he was worried. Theo’s insistence that he’s “fine” after every crash is not only stubborn, it’s plain stupid. Formula 1 cars may have all the best safety features, but there’s no telling the internal damage a crash can cause.
Josie Bancroft
Sounds about right. Does his shoulder seem okay? He grabbed it when he got out of the car.
Ella Gold
He keeps rolling it back and grunting. I’ll have Blake talk to him once the race is over.
I sink into my seat and force my attention back to the race. I’ll just have to trust that Russell and Blake can convince Theo to take care of himself.
Slinking out of the cab, I power walk into the nearby hotel the party is being hosted at. Blisters form on my feet and my Spanx are dangerously tight under my silky dress, making it hard to move my body, let alone breathe, but I have a certain driver to yell at.
Under Russell’s strict instructions, Theo is supposed to skip the event and take it easy tonight. Ice his shoulder, take some pain meds, and go to bed early. I know this because Blake grumbled about Theo’s bedrest all afternoon. He hates attending parties without his driving partner because it forces him to talk to McAllister’s sponsors on his own.
Thanks to social media and Theo’s inability to not post what he’s doing, I know he’s here and is already two drinks in.
The party planners go above and beyond for each Grand Prix gala and event, constantly one-upping themselves, and this one is no exception. The room is filled with the usual who’s who, but it’s easy to locate the Australian in question. He’s leaning against the bar, chatting with a few other drivers, who I’m sure are worshipping at his feet. Theo prefers to be the center of attention, so wherever there’s a crowd, he’ll most likely be in the center of it.
My heels click against the shiny floors as I make my way through the crowd. Gorgeous white marble stretches as far as the eye can see and crystal chandeliers glisten in the soft lighting, illuminating the glamour of the event. I grab a flute of champagne off the tray from a server circulating through the crowd, careful that the golden bubbles rising to the top don’t spill over the edge of the glass.
I take a swig of my drink as I approach Theo’s gaggle of admirers. “What are you doing here?” I demand. All four men turn to stare at me, their black dress shoes gleaming despite the soft lighting of the room.
“Enjoying the party,” Theo says, talking loud enough so I can hear him over the live band. His eyes roam up and down my body as if there’s no one standing next to us. I’ll positively die if he can see my nipples hardening under his gaze. “New dress?”
I glower at him. “You’re supposed to be taking it easy tonight.”
“It’s not like I’m skydiving, Bancroft. I’m simply enjoying a drink,” a smile pulls his mouth to one side, “in the company of a beautiful woman.”
Although my insides turn to mush at his words, my face stays stoic.
Theo sighs. “Gentleman, do you mind if we finish this conversation later? It appears I’m in trouble.”
The drivers slowly disappear into the crowd. One of them accidentally bumps into Theo as they walk away, causing him to shut his eyes and grit his teeth. The pink liquid in his martini glass sloshes out of the glass and onto the floor. Rolling his shoulder back, he grimaces. His whole “I’m fine” routine is being poorly executed.
I touch his arm gently, my exasperation dissolving into concern. “Theo? Are you okay?”
“Hmm?” He opens his eyes and stares at me as if he had no idea I was there. “Oh, yeah. I’m good, angel. No dramas.”
“I’m going to find Russell,” I decide, trying to keep the worry out of my voice. “You need to see a doctor.”
“Don’t, Jos.” He grabs my arm as I walk away. The pleading tone of his voice makes me pause. “Please.”
Theo’s eyes search mine in a silent petition to just let it go. Leaning against the bar, I release a deep breath. He could have a torn ligament, a strained shoulder, a minor concussion, a stress fracture.
“Jos, please.” His hand moves down my arm until his fingers are intertwined with mine. “He’ll want me to get scans and I can’t do that. I won’t do that.”
Fireworks glow inside me from the feeling of our hands clasped. How can a simple touch extort such reactions from me? Reactions Andrew didn’t even come close to eliciting. I don’t know what to make of it.
“I haven’t been to a hospital since my dad passed.” His voice is barely above a whisper. “And I don’t want to go to one now.”
A desire to wrap him in my arms overwhelms me, but I’m not sure I can handle that type of intimacy with Theo anymore, so I squeeze his hand, hoping he knows I’m here for him. He absentmindedly strokes his thumb against my palm. I feel a fluttering in my throat and press my free hand against it. Maybe I should pick up yoga to learn how to control my breathing better.
“My dad always joked that when he wasn’t at the track with me, he was in the hospital, wishing he was at the track with me,” Theo says, his lips turning up a fraction of a centimeter.
“I’m sure you had tons of stories to let him live vicariously through you.” My voice is gentle because Theo rarely talks about his dad unless someone asks him a direct question. When he does bring him up on his own, it’s shrouded in pain so deep, I don’t even think he realizes it’s there.
“He was the one who travelled with me to every competition, every meeting, every practice. Every time I wanted to go karting to practice more. Then his MS progressed, and he couldn’t anymore… too susceptible to infections.”
Words bubble up in my throat but fail to come out. My heart breaks for him.
“McAllister was his dream for me,” Theo says quietly. “I had a red racecar bed growing up and everything. Went to the Australian Grand Prix each year, decked out in our colors.”
I’ve seen the photos—they’re hung up in one of the hallways at McAllister’s headquarters—of a young Theo and his dad, wearing matching McAllister hats and grins in front of the track. They took the same photo every year until Theo’s dad passed away.
“He said besides marrying my mum and having his kids, McAllister signing me was the happiest day of his life.”
I squeeze his hand. “He’d be proud of you, Theo.”
His formally calm face is disrupted by the hard tightening of his jaw. “What if I wasn’t at McAllister?”
Um, what?
Before I can ask him what he’s talking about, his familiar lopsided grin appears. “It’s cute how worried you are about me, Jos. I wouldn’t mind seeing you dressed up in a sexy little nurse costume for some role play.”
I’m equally impressed and confused at how quickly he switches topics. He has skillfully mastered the art of saying something serious, but following it up with a wisecrack to deflect.
“Of course, I worry,” I say, dutifully ignoring the nurse remark. “I’d be a pretty shitty friend if I didn’t.”
He cocks an eyebrow. “You’re not a shitty friend; you’re the best friend.”
The liquid in my stomach swirls. I’ve only taken a few sips, but I can already feel the burn. Right now, I’d prefer that burn over the one on my face. The way Theo’s looking at me, appraising my body like I’m a piece of art, is making my cheeks redder than the lipstick I want him to kiss right off me. “Yep. Key word being friend. ”
I’m not sure I’ve ever thought about a friend while using my vibrator, but there’s a first time for everything.
“C’mon, Jos,” he says with an amused laugh. “You’re going to stand there and tell me the sex wasn’t amazing? We both know it was.”
“I don’t remember,” I lie. My cheeks reach tomato-like proportions, and I untangle our fingers, suddenly hyperaware that my palms are sweating. What the hell are we even doing holding hands? Friends don’t hold hands, unless the other one is so drunk they need help walking. “We were drunk.”
“Not drunk enough to ignore how good our chemistry is in bed, angel. Though, I’m than happy to prove you wrong and have a re-do while sober. I think we’ll enjoy ourselves immensely.” He leans back against the bar, propping up an elbow. “It’s not like we won’t be friends just because we have sex.”
Sex with Theo won’t necessarily ruin our friendship, but it will change our dynamic in some way—it already has. I can’t even look at him without imagining his lips grazing my neck or the muscles in his back flexing as he thrust into me.
I ping-pong my gaze around the room to avoid eye contact. “You know what else I enjoy? Appetizers. Have you seen a server passing any out? Man, I could go for a flatbread right now. One with fig, goat cheese, and honey would be divine.”
“You’ll cave eventually, Bancroft,” Theo promises. A cold thrill goes down my spine as he trails his fingers against my exposed skin, almost taunting me to whimper. Tonight was not the night to wear a backless dress. “I have a great dick. Some have even called it ‘more than adequate.’”
I’d like to bury myself in a cave and not come out for about eighty years, so Theo’s “great dick” will be wrinkly and completely undesirable. I notice Lucas walking by and latch onto his arm like an octopus. Nothing like a cock-block decked out in Gucci.
“Lucas! Hi!” My voice is so enthusiastic that he stumbles back a step. “Great race earlier! Congrats on the win.”
Pink accentuates the taut angle of his high cheekbones. Lucas is a rare breed of Formula 1 drivers: he’s humble to a fault, always congratulating everyone else before accepting praise on his own behalf. Theo and Blake tease him mercilessly about his aversion to talking about his successes.
“Thanks, Jos.” He runs his hand through his styled hair and shoots me a beyond-adorable grin. Moving his eyes to Theo, he says, “Tough break out there today, man.”
“Shit happens,” Theo concedes with a shrug. “Could’ve been worse.”
“Yeah. You could have a sore shoulder that makes you wince in pain anytime you move it.” I shoot Theo a cheerful smile. “And we wouldn’t want that, would we?”
The shadow of a frown appears. Point for Josie .
The two of them chat about the race, discussing the impressive second place podium win a Catalyst driver secured. I scoot closer to Lucas, causing Theo’s hand to land back on the table with a soft thud . Avoiding any direct physical contact with him is the only way I can, hopefully, keep my common sense from turning into an insatiable craving. But the issue with cravings is that they don’t just go away because you think they should, and I’ve been craving Theo more than a double-scoop of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream with gummy bears on top.