Page 12 of Drive Me Wild (Drive Me #2)

TWELVE

THEO

Josie wakes me up at the goddamn arse crack of dawn by aggressively tapping my shoulder. I barely slept last night because she kept tossing and turning, accidentally rubbing against me, so I burrow deeper under the covers and ignore her. This doesn’t deter her. Instead, she just sneaks back under the covers and continues to poke me.

“May I help you?” I mumble, keeping my eyes shut.

“Did we have sex?” Her voice is raspy, adding another level to her sex appeal. “Or did I just wake up wearing your T-shirt for fun?”

My eyes fly open but it’s dark, so I push the covers down. Josie’s honey blonde hair cascades around her shoulders and her pouty lips part in anticipation. The covers are over my waist so she can’t see my morning wood, but there’s no chance it’s going away anytime soon with her… well, with her existing. Especially in my bed, wearing my shirt, giving me that look.

“For fun,” I confirm reluctantly. “You tried to sleep with me, though. Said you wanted to lick every inch of me like a lollipop.”

She buries her head into a pillow. “That’s mortifying.”

“It was sexy as hell,” I reassure her. “I had to jerk off at two a.m. just to give myself some relief.”

“I don’t need to know those sorts of details, Theo.”

“It’s only fair since you told me you get yourself off to the memory of us having sex.” There’s no keeping the satisfied smirk from my face. That little nugget of information does wonders for one’s ego.

“Please check my pulse because there’s a chance I may die of embarrassment.”

I place two fingers on her inner wrist. “You’re alive and well, baby.”

“I may be alive, but I am definitely not well,” she grumbles. “I hope you know there’s no chance of me licking you like a lollipop this morning.”

“What about this afternoon?” I trail my fingers up and down her back. “I’m a patient man.”

Liar, liar, pants on fire.

The noise she makes is half-grunt, half-groan. “The mere thought of a dick is making me nauseous, so no.”

Well, at least she won’t be sleeping with anyone else, either. Not that I have any claim over her or anything. I’m the one who told her she should be sowing her wild oats and sleeping around now that she’s single. I wish there was a Brita filter for brains to stop all the stupid shit from coming out of my mouth.

“You were pretty drunk last night, Miss Bancroft,” I tease softly. “What, the twinkling lights of Monaco got to that pretty little head of yours?”

She makes some sort of grumbling noise. “The damn scavenger hunt.”

Ahhh. That explains the purple lighter and drink umbrella at least. “What scavenger hunt?”

Josie lifts her head and stares at me. “We play every year, Walker. You just usually get wasted and leave with some wannabe influencer forty minutes into the party.”

Ouch. She’s not wrong, though. Last year I slept with some bat-shit crazy girl Blake had fucked way back when, then passed out in Leo DiCaprio’s yacht afterward. You know I’m hammered when I double-dip into Blake’s dirty laundry.

“Who plays?”

“The teams are different every year, but it’s usually people from marketing, operations, engineering, and a few finance guys.”

How have I never heard of this scavenger hunt? Why aren’t the drivers invited to play? Blake’s not exactly Mr. Party People, but I’m the dictionary definition of a good time. Which probably explains why Josie wanted to sleep with me last night.

“The list is on my phone if you want to see what else we had to find,” she tells me, shutting her eyes. “My passcode’s one-one-two-one.”

“Your birthday? Seriously?” I scoff. “You don’t even like your birthday!”

“It’s easy to remember.”

“It’s also easy to hack, princess.”

She reopens one of her eyes to glare at me. “Unlike you, I don’t keep nudes on my phone. If someone wants to hack me, all they’ll find is food porn, endless playlists, and a grocery list.”

We’ll see about that. I grab her phone from the bedside table, where it’s been charging all night. You’re welcome . My eyes zero in on the text messages on the screen. It’s not snooping since these just so happen to be here.

Andrew Caffrey

Saw you on TV! It was a great race.

Wes (the best coworker ever)

Can we boycott champagne for the rest of the season? There’s a man in my bed and I can’t remember his name…

The text from Wes makes sense, but the text from Andrew, not so much. Why is he still texting her like they’re friends or some shit?

I try to ignore the heat prickling my skin as I read through the scavenger hunt list. Purple lighter. Two signed business cards. Are Josie and Andrew getting back together? Cocktail umbrella. Two different brands of beer caps. It’s none of my business if they are. It’s not like I know shit about relationships. One monogrammed flask. Fuck that. Yes, it is my business. I’m her friend. Photo licking the ice sculpture. Wine label from the nineties. But if we’re just friends, then why does the thought of her getting back together with her ex make me so mad? If we’re just friends, then why can’t I stop thinking about her day and night? Selfie with a celebrity holding up something that says McAllister. Three different colored stirrer sticks. Don’t overthink, Theo. Mini dry shampoo. Baby blue scrunchie.

“Some of these are hard,” I note when I’ve finished reading the items.

“Mm-hmm,” she mumbles. “Losers have to chug a bottle of Dom.”

I toss Josie her phone, but she just watches it land by her hand, making no move to grab it. Her eyelids flutter, trying to stay open and fight off the extra hour or two of sleep her body wants. It’s clear she’s too tired for much of a conversation, but she’s in my bed and I love pillow talk—it’s my second favorite kind of conversation after dirty talk. Curling up on my side, I tuck my knees up so they’re grazing hers.

“I’m sorry you lost, princess.”

She opens her eyes to look at me and the muscles in my throat tighten. “I won.”

“Oh?”

She buries her face into my chest. Mumbled words flow out of her mouth, but I can’t understand a single one. Tilting her chin up, I politely ask her to slow down.

She twirls my chest hair with her fingers before finally saying, “My trip got cancelled.”

“Your trip? What trip?”

Josie glances up through thick lashes. “Promise you won’t freak out?”

“If you’re going to a sex show in Amsterdam without me, I’ll most certainly?—”

“Not Amsterdam.”

“Because you promised me,” I remind her.

“You will be the one to accompany me to an infamous sex show. I know, Walker. Promise still stands.”

I brush away a piece of hair that’s fallen against her cheek. “So why would I freak out?”

“Just tell me you won’t,” she says.

The questions rattle around in my head like loose change in a piggy bank as I nod.

She exhales deeply. “I was going to Le Mans after the French Grand Prix.”

My legs jerk in surprise, banging against Josie’s. Her face crumples in discomfort, so I rub my hand against her silky-smooth thigh in apology. So much for hoping my morning wood goes away anytime soon.

“You were finally going to go?” I stammer out. I’ve been encouraging Josie to visit her birth city for years, but she’s always brushed it off, saying it’ll happen eventually.

“Yes,” she says simply. “Finally felt ready to.”

Josie doesn’t talk about her adoption a lot, if ever. The fact that she’s technically French never fails to blow my mind. The only reason her British parents adopted a baby from France is because they first met in Paris and her mum wanted to “adopt a child that was conceived in the same country their love was conceived in.” Hence, their un petite croissant —her mum’s words, not mine—is a byproduct of the world’s most romantic country.

“That’s amazing, Jos,” I murmur. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Well, I’m not going anymore,” she states. “So, the only thing that’s amazing is the fact that I’m not puking my brains out after drinking my body weight in champagne.”

“Why aren’t you going anymore?”

She curls her hands between the pillow and her cheek. “The AirBnB I was supposed to stay at accidentally double-booked themselves, and I don’t feel like paying an arm and a leg to find another accommodation this late in the game. Plus, I found out the guy I bought the ticket from is some sort of scam artist. I even double-checked to make sure he was legit, but apparently, I didn’t look hard enough. That’s what I get for buying something through a Facebook group.” She sighs deeply. “Not the end of the world. I can always go next year.”

“But you wanted to go this year.”

“Yes, but it’s not like I’m expecting to run into my birth mum walking down the street. Another year of waiting to go won’t kill me.”

The softness of her voice pulls at my heartstrings. The overwhelming urge to wrap her in my arms and hide her away from the world is so intense that I forget to breathe. I sneak her hand away from the pillow and intertwine our fingers, liking the intimacy of having her this close. “It’s a possibility, though. If I went with you, I’d be able to pick your mum out of a crowd immediately.”

Josie raises her eyebrows. “I highly doubt that.”

“Genetics are the only reasonable explanation for your amazing ass,” I inform her. “And I’d recognize your backside in a lineup, nine out of ten times, babe.”

Her pink tongue shoots out at me. “What is it with boys and butts?”

Wrapping my arm around her waist, I pull her flush against me. Warm legs tangle together like a pretzel, but my body breaks out in goosebumps.

“Boy? Baby, I’m all man .” Trapped between us is my hardness, desperate for attention it’s not going to receive. Given her provocative performance last night, I know she’s still horny, and this man has no intention of letting her forget it.

“Only boys have to convince women they’re men.” Josie challenges me with a look of deliberate nonchalance. Once again, my willpower to not devour her lips in kisses that’ll make her writhe is tested. “I’m going to go back to bed, but if you need to relieve yourself in the bathroom again, feel free to do so. Will you wake me up in an hour or so?”

She shoots me a tired smile before burrowing underneath the comforter and turning so I’m spooning her with my hard-as-concrete dick nestled against her ass. Yup. Definitely going to relieve myself. I hear a soft giggle from the bed as I make my way to the bathroom.

Cheeky, cheeky woman.

“Hey, Jos?” I ask before shutting the door to shower.

“Mm-hmm?”

“I feel weird even having to ask this, but do you suddenly like bananas or something?”

“No.” She lifts her head and makes a face. “I still think they’re gross.”

Interesting…

Josie’s already fallen back asleep by the time I’ve showered, so I grab my phone from the nightstand and head into the sitting area. There’s a text from Jenna. Shit .

Jenna (from Berlin)

I’m in town next week. You around?

For the first time in forever, the idea of having sex with Jenna sounds… meh. My cock doesn’t twitch in anticipation or do a happy dance, especially not when there’s a sweet blonde sound asleep in my bed.

Theo Walker

Nah, I’ll be in France for the Grand Prix.

At least I don’t have to lie to her. I lay down on the couch in the suite’s sitting room, but instead of checking Instagram—a.k.a my normal morning routine—I text Martin to see what connections he has in Le Mans.