Collided: Dirty Air (Book 2)(49)
I rub my thumb across her knuckles, craving her touch like a junkie craving his next hit, eliciting a sigh from her. “Not to deflect or anything, but why do you keep ignoring our chemistry?”
“Because I don’t want to ruin something good for something temporary.” She pushes herself up and away from me. Her hand lingers on my chest, the warmth from her palm radiating through my shirt.
“I’ll take anything from you.” It’s sad to admit how I’m not joking.
“That’s my fear with someone like you. You take and take until I have nothing left to give. You’d be easy to fall in love with until you walk away, breaking my heart in the process.” She whispers the words like saying them lower makes them less scary.
Her dropping the L-word fills me with dread.
“I can’t promise anything close to love, but I can promise you endless orgasms, friendship, and mindless sex that’ll leave you buzzing from your head to the tips of your toes.” I offer her a sly grin, propping myself up on my elbows.
Like always, Sophie does something shocking. She leans in and presses her lips against mine. The kiss feels soft at first, her wariness evident.
Holy shit, Sophie is kissing me.
My instincts take over as I kiss her back, no longer in shock at her move. One of my hands wraps around the back of her neck and holds her steady. My body sings at the contact, my tongue darting out to feel her plump lips.
I pull her on top of me while her tongue—that fucking tongue—probes mine and gives me access to her mouth. I could combust at her touch. An embarrassing yet truthful admission nonetheless because kissing Sophie makes me question what the fuck I’ve been doing before. Scratch that—kissing Sophie feels like everything.
She gasps as my teeth tug on her bottom lip. My dick throbs in my pants, clearly not getting the memo that this is just a kiss. I find controlling myself around Sophie a hopeless cause. Our tongues test each other while my hand wraps itself around her soft hair, tugging on the strands I’ve wanted wrapped around my hands for months.
A rush of desire nearly knocks me out. Sophie gains the confidence to explore my body, the feeling of her hands dragging against my chest and arms nearly doing me in.
I roll us, pushing her back against the grass as my body splays atop of hers. Our lips never break contact. Fuck, I love the taste of her, the pressure of her body against me, the whole damn thing. Her fingers graze my stubble before she places her hand on my face.
My body pushes into hers, her moan making my dick pulse as it rubs against her center. I love the sound of her heavy breathing, showing me she feels as affected and helpless as I do from our connection—both victims of our stupid game.
I break away from the kiss to get a look at her. Regret fills me instantly as the haziness in her eyes dissipates and her mind turns back on.
She coughs before recovering. “Uh, we better get going. It’s late.”
I groan as I roll off of her, standing before helping her up. We both pretend nothing happened and return back to normal as we gather our belongings. Well, we act as normal as friends who kiss like lovers and share the same desperation for one another. Sophie and I put on the best damn show with us pretending to fight our attraction for no good reason except for her thinking she’ll catch feelings instead of orgasms.
Fuck feelings. They leave a bad taste in my mouth. Sophie needs to be convinced how feelings are meant for good boys who will cherish her for everything she’s worth. I can only promise what I can offer with my career and my past. A future isn’t guaranteed, but I swear the only one she’ll think of is me doing every naughty item on that list to her.
It’s enough for me. But the real question is if it’s enough for her.
16
Liam
Even after winning the Canadian Grand Prix, the press conference sucks. I get hit with a couple questions I don’t want to answer. Cameras focus on me, their bright lights causing my skin to flush. For once, I don’t appreciate the limelight, the surrounding reporters stifling me as I aim to keep my composure.
A sleazy reporter eagerly moves up to the front of the group. His slicked-back hair and beady eyes send some creepy vibes as he licks his lips. “Liam, several sources claim your McCoy contract is on the fritz. Your performance is competitive, yet you’re struggling to beat Noah this year.”
“Is there a question somewhere in there?” I rub the back of my neck with my hand, despising how uncomfortable I feel under the intense scrutiny from everyone in the room. Jax and Santiago shift in their chairs.
“Uh, right.” He licks his lips again. “So, is it worth putting your contract on the line for Claudia McCoy?”
This shit again. New race, new reporter, same crappy questions.
“The status of my contract is not contingent on my relationship, or lack thereof, with Claudia McCoy. I’d appreciate if it’s no longer brought up during these press conferences. I’m here to race, not discuss my private life.”
McCoy’s PR agent will have a field day with this one. I see another meeting with Peter in my future because he hates when we sass reporters. But fuck all this shit. I’ve been staying out of the headlines and playing nice with others. Plus I’m a role model for abstinence. Sophie’s probably to thank for keeping me in line, to be honest. I haven’t slept with anyone for almost three months already. My free time is spent constructively as of late, no longer plagued with bad mistakes and easy women.