17

Mira slammed the bathroom door and fell back against it, breathing hard. Her entire body was still vibrating. Her face was wet with tears, and her throat ached with a sob she swallowed down.

No, no, no, no, no.

Why did she do something so stupid ?

She couldn’t even blame it on Will, even though he’d initiated it. Yes, she’d been drinking, but she wasn’t drunk, unless being drunk on music and a moment counted. Swept up in everything she’d been feeling out there on the dance floor, she’d turned to face him and she knew . His intention was clear the minute she looked up into his eyes. She’d known what was coming and she’d stood still and let it happen. Welcomed it. Because she wanted it, too.

And when she’d gotten it …

I want you so much.

She closed her eyes and let out a helpless little moan. God, she wanted him, too. The aftershocks of that kiss were still firing through her body. She could still feel his fingertips on the back of her neck, his hand in her hair … she could still taste his mouth on hers. Her nipples were tight, and between her legs, she ached with need, remembering his whispered words.

What was wrong with her? Didn’t she ever learn? They were barely into the season and she was already making out with some guy in a bar. And not just any guy— Will . Will, who raced for her father’s team. Will, whom she was beginning to think of as a legitimate friend. Will, the only guy—possibly in the world—who could ruin everything she was working toward. It was like she was determined to find some way to sabotage herself.

She ripped some paper towels from the holder on the wall and dried her face. Well, the difference was, last time she was sixteen and dumb. Now she was twenty-three and much smarter. Smart enough to step back and regroup instead of charging blindly forward into disaster. No matter how he made her feel, what happened out there could not happen again.

When she unlocked the bathroom door, Will was waiting outside, leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. “Are you okay?”

“Look, I’m really sorry,” she said. “I never should have done that. It was wrong of me.”

He pushed off the wall, taking a step toward her. The smile he gave her made her heart twist up in her chest. “I’m pretty sure I did it.”

He reached out a hand toward her, but she backed away, shaking her head, on the edge of panic. “I shouldn’t have let you. I can’t. It’s—”

His smile melted away. “Why?”

“This can’t happen. You and me.”

He was silent for a moment, a silence so heavy it felt as if the weight of it might crush her. He was staring at her—she could feel his eyes on her—but she couldn’t bear to look him in the eye.

“So you just want to forget this?” he finally said.

“I think that would be best.”

He let out a scoff of humorless laughter, but he didn’t argue. “Okay, yeah. It never happened.”

“I like you, Will.”

“What?”

Now she made herself raise her face and look at him. He was scowling, trying to puzzle out what she meant.

“You’re my friend and I really like you.”

“Friend,” he echoed.

“That’s all I can be.”

More silence. His face was impossible to read as he turned that over. Finally, he gave a small nod and let out a tired exhale. “Right. Friends.”

“I think I should go.”

He nodded tightly. “I’ll get us a car.”

“No, you don’t have to—”

“Mira, I’m not letting you go back to the hotel alone at this hour.”

“I won’t go alone. I’ll find Violet.”

“Then I’ll take you both back.”

“You don’t have to go—”

“I’m not staying here without you.”

Lacking the strength to argue with him, she slipped past him and went to look for Violet. She found her at the bar, chatting with a guy—not the one from earlier.

“Violet, sorry to interrupt, but I need to go.”

Violet spun to face her, eyes dancing between Mira and Will, and whatever she saw made her bite back the questions she so obviously wanted to ask. Instead, she just nodded. “Sure. Let’s go.”

AS THE UBER wound through the dark Melbourne streets back toward their hotels, Will’s mind was back there on the dance floor, pressed up against Mira, wildly turned on and ready to do everything he’d been fantasizing about since he’d met her.

But now she was on the other side of the cab, curled into a little comma of misery, staring out the window blankly, not saying a word. He’d told her he’d follow her lead and forget what had happened. But that was a lie, because there was no way he was ever going to forget what she felt like, what she tasted like. Even now, as he sat in tense silence in the back of a dark cab, just thinking about that kiss had his blood heating and his dick impossibly hard.

It seemed pretty fucking clear that she was every bit as attracted to him as he was to her, but for whatever reason, she was refusing to indulge it. His spine itched with frustration and thwarted desire, but there wasn’t a damned thing he could do about it. She’d cried. He’d kissed her and she’d cried . Remembering that cooled his lust a fraction. A very small fraction.

The car pulled up in front of his hotel and he leapt out the door.

“I put in your hotel as the second stop,” he said. “So you should be set.”

“Thanks,” Violet said automatically.

Before he closed the door, he hesitated, glancing over at Mira, who was pointedly turned away from him, looking out the window. Violet looked from him, to her, back to him again, and shrugged.

Fine. He wasn’t getting answers from her tonight. He might never get them, because that was her prerogative. She’d told him no. So now he just needed to get over it and move on. As if it were that simple.

“Text me when you get back to your hotel,” he finally said.

Mira didn’t reply, so Violet jumped in after a beat. “Sure thing. Thanks for the drinks.”

He ran a hand through his hair, still humming with frustration. “Any time.”

He stood outside for a bit, watching the car disappear down the street, before heading into the lobby.

Almost immediately, he spotted Rikkard, one of Lennox’s reserve drivers, on his way into the bar off the lobby. “Hey, look who it is! Mr. Motherfucking Second Place!”

“Hey, Rikkard.”

Rikkard was from Finland, twenty years old, and just starting out his career. He showed a lot of promise as a driver. Actually, Rikkard reminded him a lot of himself at that age: raw talent in need of experience, and a tendency to party hard. Right now, he was quite obviously and significantly drunk.

“Will, come with me.” Rikkard slung an arm around his shoulder. “There’s a bar full of women in there desperate to congratulate you.”

“I’m not sure I’m up for it,” he said, stalling.

Rikkard stumbled to a stop and reared around to face him. “Will.” He clapped his hands on either side of Will’s neck. “You made the podium! Your second race back! What the fuck do you mean you’re not up for it? It is your duty to get in there and party! Drink some champagne, fuck some women. Come on . This is the best part of racing!”

Maybe it wasn’t the best part of racing, but Rikkard wasn’t wrong. He finished on the podium. He should be celebrating. So things with Mira had just blown up in his face. That didn’t mean he had to go crawling off to his room to feel sorry for himself.

The sound of music and laughter drifted out into the lobby as he considered. Just then, a figure materialized out of the dimly lit bar. A shapely figure in a tight red dress.

“Hello again, Will.”

“Hello, Francesca.”