Collided: Dirty Air (Book 2)(56)
He laughs. “You sure try your hardest to deny everything between us. I know you’re attracted to me or else you wouldn’t have kissed me in Canada or come to the sound of my voice.”
He trails a single finger up my leg. My skin heats wherever his finger lingers before he stops at my upper thigh and leaves his hand there.
I stare at his hand, willing it to move. Higher? Lower? Anywhere but right next to the place begging for his attention?
“You can give in, you know. I won’t judge you for it. Hell, I’ll reward you, congratulating you for your efforts at lasting this long.” He abandons my thigh as he grasps my hand in his again. His thumb traces mindless circles across the thin bones in my hand.
Earth to Sophie. Pull it together. “Uh, well, I should get going.” I pull my legs off Liam’s lap, not waiting for him to respond. His throaty laugh runs across my spine as I hightail it out of there.
I walk into the Italian Grand Prix gala with my dad, the snazzy affair welcoming us with golden lights glistening off the chandeliers hanging above our heads. A live band plays on the stage while servers offer us alcohol.
My eyes go straight to the food table. “There’s a pasta buffet. I repeat, a pasta buffet.”
My dad snorts and leads me toward my paradise. “For such a tiny person, you sure do eat a lot.”
I pile my plate with pasta and bread. “Don’t give me a complex.”
He follows me to an empty table and sits with me, giving me a solid twenty minutes of his time between chatting with sponsors and coworkers.
He looks stunned at how I shovel pasta into my mouth. “I’m weirdly impressed. If there was any question of you being my daughter, this definitely rules it out.”
I glare at him and drag my fork across my throat. It fails to have the desired effect, instead making my dad laugh loud and robustly.
He offers me a bite of his veggies after he regains his composure.
“I’d rather die than eat a piece of lettuce.” I stare at his salad like it offends me.
“You know green food is meant to be good for you.” He stabs his food while longingly staring at my pasta. He chose a lean piece of chicken, passing over the pasta bar without looking back. Like he really needs to keep his figure in check. The man works out more than half the guys in my university, probably out lifting them.
“That’s good because my cereal has enough green food coloring to carry me through the day.”
“One day you’ll end up having kids of your own. Then I’ll be laughing when you shove broccoli into your mouth while trying to convince them to eat their own, with your eyes watering from trying not to gag. I didn’t eat veggies until you came around. Honestly, I thought me eating them would win you over but here I am twenty-two years later.”
“Joke’s on you.” I stick my tongue out at him.
My dad chuckles, his young appearance shining through. He has a youthfulness to him that never went away with age. When he works in the Bandini pit, he shoves jokes aside because he has to be the big guy in charge, making sure Santiago and Noah don’t screw up.
“Looks like someone found you.” My dad catches Liam’s gaze across the room.
I sigh, which gets me a heavy dose of side-eye from my dad. He remains quiet as Liam makes his way toward us, one hand carrying two champagne flutes while the other holds a bottle of Dom Pérignon.
A man after my heart.
Okay, let me stomp on that thought about fifty times.
“Mr. Mitchell, nice to see you.” Liam pulls out a chair next to me as he nods to my dad.
“Liam.” My dad eyes him curiously.
“Long time, no see.” Liam wraps his arm around the back of my chair.
“I saw you yesterday. Should McCoy be concerned about your memory?”
His smile softens my already weak resolve, acting like a seduction trap with free alcohol. He needs to put those shiny bad boys away because the light bouncing off them blinds me.
Ever since my date with John, Liam lays his flirting on extra thick, like a new wave of possessiveness took over his lightheartedness.
My dad kisses me on my temple before excusing himself. No one misses the daggers he shoots at Liam, his skepticism evident for all to see. Too bad he didn’t include his shovel-and-shotgun speech. It’s a classic.
“I brought reinforcements.” He pours us two healthy glasses of bubbly.
“I knew I liked you for a reason. Match made in heaven.” The words flow from my lips before I realize what I said.
“I didn’t know you felt that way for me.” He hits me with another wink that goes straight to my clit because he has a way with making me feel all types of things.
“I was talking to the champagne bottle so get your head out of the pit lane. You and I are destined for hell.” My eyebrow rises on command.
Liam breaks out into a deep laugh he saves for me. “Matches made in heaven are overrated anyway, being all saintly and shit. Doggy-style is the devil’s work.”
I clench my thighs together as I chug my champagne and nearly drain the glass of all the fizzy liquid. A trickle escapes the rim of the glass and trails down my lips. Before I have a chance to lick the droplet, Liam leans in, his tongue lapping up the drop before tracing across the seam of my mouth. My lips buzz at the contact, my lungs burning as I take in a sharp inhale.