Collided: Dirty Air (Book 2)(43)
I take another deep breath of his cologne because I enjoy a steady state of punishment.
He plays a video on his phone of a guy talking about Millennial Boyfriend School. The man reveals trade secrets about women and how men should have wine and chocolate stocked at home. Damn right they should.
By the end of the video, I’m crying from laughing too hard. It’s a habit I’ve long given up on stopping.
“I’m deceased, so please forward all ten cents of my will.” I throw myself back on the bed. My body sinks into the plush comforter that feels way better than my own. Liam definitely gets the upgrades, experiencing perks from being a monster on the track.
He chuckles as he bends over to wipe away some stray tears from my cheeks. How sweet of him. The gesture makes me painfully aware of the rough pads of his thumbs swiping across my face slowly, with him taking his sweet time. I allow this physical rarity between us because I like his attention.
We both play our own game of poker and wonder who will fold first. Unfortunately for him, I have a hell of a poker face if I do say so myself. The concept of folding my cards doesn’t register in my vocabulary with my will stronger than a shitty hand.
“Do girls really hate being told to relax?” he asks me earnestly, pulling me from my thoughts.
“The last boyfriend who told me that ended up in a shallow grave in my backyard. My dad helped me cover it up because he said I’m too pretty for prison.” I keep my voice steady.
He freezes. His eyes run over my face, gauging my seriousness.
I smack his arm. “I’m joking! But yeah, I personally can’t stand it. Maybe you need to go to boyfriend school. Wait, have you ever been a boyfriend before?”
“Nope. I was never good at classes anyway. Teachers would find me roaming around the school or the library.” His cheeks blush, catching me off guard.
“You know hooky sounds less badass when you tell people you hung out in the library.”
The look he gives me makes me wonder if he’d smack my ass with a book if he could.
“What if I told you I snuck in because I invited a few girls to hook up between the stacks.”
My mouth drops open. “I don’t know whether to be scared or impressed by your love for literature and female company.”
“I can show you how much I love the second.” He beams at me.
Liam stares at me as a roar of laughter escapes my lips. His eyebrows lower like he thinks too hard, while his hands ball up next to him. Baby blues focus their attention on my lips before they roam across my body. My skin prickles at his assessment. I wish I could take things further with him, to test out his lips against mine, or to feel his skin under my fingertips. But I don’t at the same time.
Confusing as hell, I know.
Ever since our phone call a week ago, I can’t get him out of my head. The ideas that cross my mind are everything but friendly. I like us as friends, but I can’t help but wonder if I’d like us as more.
15
Liam
“You know, when I suggested working out, this isn’t quite what I had in mind,” Sophie says between labored breaths. Her chest heaves and her cheeks flush. She tied her hair back in a ponytail, bobbing whenever she moves with light bouncing off the golden strands.
Now that she mentions it, this wasn’t what I had in mind either. I regret my decision to invite her to come with me. My idea of an outdoor workout before the Canadian Grand Prix is biting me in the ass because Sophie looks fuckable.
The past hour has been an endless cycle of me silently cursing up to the sky every five minutes, wondering how I ended up in this position in the first place. My head surpassed the gutter and ended up in the sewer, thinking about how she’d sound with me fucking her.
Yesterday was a close call in my hotel room. I almost messed up, kissing her on my bed. I wasn’t thinking straight, distracted by the way she was laughing and looking at me. She’s so damn unaware of how alluring she is.
I don’t understand Sophie’s stubbornness in denying what we both want, so I follow her plan because I’d rather not push her at the risk of losing her as a friend. It’s laughable how months ago I was scared to have her as anything more than a hookup. I didn’t want to open myself up to another friendship like I had with Johanna, but with Sophie everything feels so damn easy. She dug her heels in and took up a spot in my life, not giving me a chance to push her away despite my creeping anxiety at becoming dependent on her.
I find it hard to ignore how my dick pushes against the fabric of my workout shorts. It’s payback for my stupid plan. She had suggested outdoor yoga by the track, but instead, I convinced her to hit some trails near Montreal. I have little control over my body’s reactions to her when she stands in front of me, ass on display in those tight bubble-gum pink leggings. On anyone else, her Barbie getup wouldn’t work, but on Sophie, everything goes. Don’t get me started on the matching sports bra. What the fuck type of support is that? She calls it fashion while I say it’s torture.
I tuck my dick into the waistband of my shorts to prevent her from catching my hard-on. She remains oblivious to my dilemma as she stares at the view of the city.
I wipe my palm down my face. “You look indecent.”
She flashes her dimples, hitting me with a stunning image of her. “It’s a look. Athleisure is all the rage now.” She throws her arms out and does a circle, giving me a view of everything I want to touch, lick, and fuck. In no specific order.