Page 23

CHAPTER 23

Connor

Senna pulls away, and I miss the contact immediately. For the past hour, I’ve been sitting here, talking and joking with everyone, but my eyes lingered on the door the entire time.

Her dress sparkles under the bar’s spotlights. I want to hold her curves while staring at her and taking in everything she is tonight. She shivers, yet I sweat under my long-sleeved T-shirt.

“Are you cold?”

She shakes her head, and her short waves swish around her face. I can’t stop staring at her bright red lips, blond waves, tight dress, and black fuck-me heels. But I also want her thoughts on the race. I must have a praise kink with her because I’ve never cared what my bosses thought before. I know when I’m good, and I drove excellently today. But I want it from her lips. I want her to say my name like it’s the best thing she’s wrapped her tongue around.

“Did you like the race?” I say, my pulse thrumming in my throat.

A group of girls rush me, and I lose Senna in the crowd.

I search for her over the heads of the women. My heart beats faster. Please don’t let her leave. I want to chat with her away from work, dance with her, and pull her body against mine.

By the time I’ve signed various women’s arms and chests, I return to our tables. She’s sitting in a corner with Antoine. I scratch my forearms under my top. I can’t get to her with the wall on one side and Antoine on the other.

I sit close enough to eavesdrop on their conversation. Drivers from other teams join us, wanting my perspective on the race. They’re young and impressionable, acting first and thinking later. The passion and need to be the best burns through their eyes, especially the dark stare of the fluffy-haired Australian Billy Nister, who’s gaining a reputation for taking risks that could get him killed. I don’t miss being like that. Taking friends out without understanding the consequences leaves you lonely. Luckily, I had Niki to set me right. This guy doesn’t have a responsible team boss holding him to account.

“I swore you were going off at one point,” Luca, another driver, comments, leaving me space to tell them about the near miss at one of the corners while gesticulating wildly.

My gaze flicks to Senna, trying to read her shiny lips. She’s not smiling, but there’s no anger, either. She crosses her legs and reveals more of her thighs. My hand twitches. Her skin is creamy white, and her legs are toned from running. She sucks on a straw from her cocktail. The combination of her thigh and mouth gives me fantasies that have me shifting in my seat to hide my reaction.

Jacs and Tawny backchat the drivers at our table. I crack a joke, and Senna meets my stare as she listens to Antoine, who slides closer.

The music throbs through the club. Although my seat is padded and covered with velvet, my skin itches. Women stare at me from different booths, but it’s Senna I want to spend time with.

I could ask her to dance.

We used to dance in her kitchen when we were teenagers. She’d always tease me when I was in a lousy mood, usually because of my dad, grab my hand, and make me spin her around the kitchen while I sang. It usually stopped my grunting, except when Niki caught us and laughed. But that didn’t matter, because my singing made Senna smile, which was all I wanted.

We’d giggle when we chased a cheeky Layla, too. I want to hear that giggle.

My head is a mess of past and present. Before, I loved her like an eighteen-year-old loves his best friend, who he believes will be in his life forever. But now my feelings are more like a clock with dying batteries, sometimes moving forward and freezing. I want to take her to bed and show her how insignificant her exes are while brushing my lips against hers and making mine red with her lipstick. I want to tell her she can conquer the world and that anyone who underestimates her doesn’t deserve a second of her light while also getting on my knees and lifting that dress higher.

“What do you think?” Jacs says, staring at me.

“About?”

“We could tweak that part of the engine. It might help the speed. It’s a risk, but Tawny said other teams have tried it.”

Tawny explains in more detail, and we debate different options to improve my car’s performance. My gaze flicks to Senna, who’s now with Jimmy. He says something, and her smile lights her entire face. My chest opens up. I want to kiss that smile. I want to taste the joy on her lips.

She catches me looking and winks. My stomach bottoms out.

“I’ll speak to you in a bit,” she mouths.

My palms sweat with anticipation. I nod and lift my glass in a cheer, and she does the same.

My feet are so jittery. I need space.

Lights hit the faces of drivers celebrating the end of another race as I walk past booths. We’ve got one more race before a desperately needed summer break. I head into the quiet corridor, towards the bathrooms.

“Oi,” Antoine shouts from behind me. I instinctively hunch my shoulders. “That podium should have been mine.”

“You didn’t have the edge today. You started badly and got in my way. You were ahead of me on the grid and messed it up. I didn’t do anything to stop you from getting the podium,” I say, hands wide.

“I will fuck you up the next time we race.” Antoine steps closer, and I’m hit by the alcohol fumes wafting from him. If Senna catches us, this will ruin her night, and she deserves a great night.

I sigh loudly, checking no one is nearby. “Don’t be so ridiculous. We’re on the same team. We want to make Coulter successful.”

“Fuck off. You don’t care about the team,” he scoffs. I roll my tongue around my mouth. I want nothing more than to smack the sneer off his face, but that won’t help. “Apart from a particular boss. You always were protective of her. It didn’t pay off that day you smashed her hand, though. Crasher was supposed to have an accident, yet you saved her and stopped her racing. And then we convinced her you did it on purpose.” He cackles.

“Why did you do that?”

“Payback for all the times you got in my way in races. And because we could.”

My fist itches. I want to shove it in his ugly face.

“Save yourself for the track.” I bare my teeth. “She’ll fire you if you keep acting like a dick.”

He laughs, his face creasing like I’ve told the funniest joke. “She’s a puppet, and her dad pulls the strings. He wants people to buy the team, and guess who’s looking for a new investment?”

My whole body tenses. I don’t like that future. I need to walk away, yet I’ve had enough of Antoine not taking responsibility for his actions. “You’re drunk and rambling. Maybe if you put more effort into racing and less into being a shithead with a complex about having a female boss, you’d get a podium yourself.”

“I will be in charge of this team, and I’ll make Senna get on her knees and show me exactly what she’s willing to do to keep her job.”

I grab him by his designer shirt and shove him against the wall. “You don’t speak about Senna like that. If you say anything like that to her or about her again, I’ll make you pay.”

“You’ve got some issues you need to work out. I know exactly who you should work them out on, but she’d rather have someone with class like me. Someone her daddy respects.” He cackles. “Why would she desire a bit of rough with issues like you? She’ll never want you, Dane.”

I draw back my fist to hit him, but a shout freezes my hand.

“Put him down,” Senna bellows. “I thought we’d dealt with this. Antoine, go. I need to speak to Connor.”

Antoine walks away, winking at me. I give him a death stare over Senna’s shoulder.

“Oi, Dane,” Senna says, pushing me against the wall. In her heels, she’s nearly the same height as me. Her dress shimmers, and I want to hold her and keep her still, but she shoves me again. “What the fuck was that?”

I shrug and roll my eyes. She grabs my jaw and holds it. There’s a fire in her eyes that gives my body all the wrong ideas. Her fingers burn my skin, but she doesn’t let go.

“Was he right?”

I don’t know how much she heard. I hope that she heard Antoine say he caused her crash, but I can’t answer. Is she referring to me wanting her? I’ll deny it forever if I have to, because she can’t know. I won’t have her ignoring me because she thinks I want to fuck her. Her eyes pinch as she attempts to decipher my thoughts, but I remain quiet.

“Do you want to work out your issues with me to prove something?”

I clench my jaw, and she lets go as if I’ve confirmed her fears.

“So this friendship we’re trying to resurface was you were proving you were the big man, and I was what, another silly fangirl who praised you?”

I shake my head. I try to speak, but her body is so close to mine it’s like her heat fills my veins while her anger has me on the edge of falling. “It was never about proving something.”

“Then what was that hug about? Why have you stared at me all night? I thought…” She shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter what I thought.”

Goose pimples cover her arms, and she stares at my lips and then licks her own.

“What do you want from me, Senna? Do you want a friend? Because I can be a friend.”

She sighs, and her breath whispers against my lips. I should stop this conversation. I should be protecting her, not trying to seduce her. She’s my best friend’s little sister. Yet I hold my tongue desperate for her answer.

“Were you staring at me because you hate Antoine? Is this about being better than him? Because when I look at him, there’s nothing, but when I look at you, I…”

As she swallows, I fixate on her throat. I run her hair between my fingers, and my body comes alive as her pupils dilate, and she lets out a sigh that ghosts my lips.

“What happens when you look at me, Coults?”

She leans into me. I hold her hip, and she stares at me with this need that is like a drug injected straight into my veins.

“When I look at you, I want you.”

Fuck it.

My lips crash against hers. I grip her and pull her around a quiet corner where no one will catch us. She whimpers into my mouth. I suck on her lower lip, and she puts her arms around my neck, pulling me close.

She tastes of berries and alcohol. It’s like the sweetness and the sin all at once, and I turn her so her back is pressed against the wall. I pull up her leg, and she tucks it against me so I can grind against her. She makes the sexiest gasps as my hand slides up her thigh and under her hem. My dick is so hard against her. Everything is out of control. I need this. It’s like the last ten years of wanting her are exploding into this moment.

A ringtone stops me dead. It’s “Kids” by MGMT. Niki is calling.

I pull away.

Her face falls.

“It’s Niki?—”

She steps back and out of my reach. “You’d best get it,” she says without bitterness. Her eyes soften. “My brother is important. It’s okay. Let’s pretend this never happened. It was an alcohol-fuelled mistake, and we’re boss and driver. Can you imagine what someone like Antoine would say if he saw us?” She gives a fake laugh that sets my teeth on edge.

“But—”

“Leave it, Connor. It’s okay. Our lives are stressful enough.” She forces a smile, and she strokes her scar. I don’t believe she does it to hurt me and remind me of the accident, but every time I witness her fingers against that silver line, it’s like someone has wrapped an elastic band around my gut. “Well done for the race. Honestly. You were incredible.” She winces and then fakes that smile again. “Catch you at the factory or something. The last race of the season is in a fortnight, and then we have a lovely month with time off. Take care, yeah?”

I swear she takes a slow breath as she turns.

As she walks out of my eyeline, I answer the phone to Niki, who praises my podium place. For Niki, I manage a cheery response even as my hopes die.