21

“Do you know where you’re going?” Mira asked. They’d been talking while walking, not really paying attention to where they were, and now nothing around them looked familiar. She couldn’t even see the Singapore Flyer anymore and that thing was huge.

Will held up his phone in front of them. “No, but Google does. The hotel is over that way.”

Mira scowled, glancing up and down the sidewalk. “Are you sure? Because this is a temple, Will. Like, an actual temple. I don’t remember a temple near our hotel.”

While Will looked at the map on his phone she marveled at the long, low, ornate building. It was dark, but through the gate, she could make out a courtyard surrounded with painted columns and bushes full of pink flowers. The rest of the street was lined with two- and three-story buildings, with restaurants and shops on the ground floors and brightly colored shuttered windows above. It buzzed with energy as people had dinner or enjoyed the balmy night, and here in the middle of it all was this beautiful temple.

“I had no idea Singapore was so great. Even if we’re lost in it.”

“We’re not lost. Just trust me,” he said. “I mean, trust my phone. This way.”

“That’s not a street, that’s an alley.”

“Where’s your sense of adventure, Mira?”

The alley spilled into another street, which was really just a slightly wider alley. On one side were the backsides of all the restaurants behind them. On the other was just … a wall. If she was sensible, she’d head back out to the main street, order an Uber, and go straight back to the hotel. But for reasons she couldn’t explain to herself, she kept following him. A stairway appeared on the right, cut into the wall.

He stepped back and waved her in front of him. “This way.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Sort of.”

She shot him a dubious look as she started up the wood steps. The staircase turned once and then abruptly opened out into a small park a story above the street below.

Her breath left her in a rush when she saw it. “Oh.”

The park was tiny, just a space carved out of a hillside, shaped by the irregular intersection of a few streets, but it was lushly landscaped, with winding paths disappearing around explosions of greenery, and wooden benches every few feet. She could hear the city traffic nearby, but filtered through the low canopy of tree branches, it felt very far away. Little bulbs were strung through the trees, providing the only light, and it was magical .

“It’s beautiful.”

Mira was suddenly aware that for all the traveling she’d done with her father in years past, she hadn’t actually seen much of the world. Airports, hotels, and racetracks. That had been her experience of most countries.

“This is fun,” she said abruptly.

Will turned to look at her. “What is?”

She shrugged, suddenly feeling embarrassed, like she’d said too much. “Just … this. You were right. I never saw any of the places I visited. Not the Ferris wheels, or the markets, or the temples, or the parks …”

He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, giving her a smile she’d almost describe as bashful, if it was coming from anyone else but Will. “I’m having fun, too. For the first time in ages.”

“So Singapore is like, the first real city for both of us.”

“I guess it is.”

“Well, now you’re back in Formula One, so you’ll have all those parties and stuff. I’m sure that’s fun?”

He shrugged, looking up at the trees overhead. “I guess. What about you? You like the Formula One glamour?”

“It’s not really my thing, you know?” She hopped up on one of the benches, walking along the edge like a tightrope. The warm night air rustled through the trees overhead and the string lights shuddered, making the shadows dance around them. “I guess I’m just too uptight.”

He scoffed. “No, you’re not.”

She stopped in surprise and swiveled to face him. “How do you know? You barely know me.”

He stopped too, turning to face her. Up here on the bench, she was a little taller than him. The shadows of leaves danced across his face, those cheekbones, the sharp angle of his jaw. The breeze ruffled through his dark hair, black as night in this light. She sighed internally. He was so so pretty. She could stare at his beautiful face for the rest of her life.

Slowly, he reached up, snagging a curl blowing across her face and tucking it behind her ear, and her chest fluttered in response. “Come on, now. That’s hardly true anymore. I know you. We’re friends, right?”

She sucked in a breath and held it. His fingers lingered, tracing the edge of her ear, then he ran a fingertip down the side of her neck. Her skin felt like it burst into flames in the wake. Whatever this was, it felt like a whole lot more than “friends.”

It was a hunger, a yearning, that she was sure he felt, too. Suddenly, they felt very alone, and real life felt very far away, like the world had stopped turning and had paused in its orbit, just waiting for him to kiss her. Or for her to kiss him. Like the next tick of the clock, the next beat of her heart, depended on their lips meeting.

The moment of silence dragged out like it had on the Ferris wheel—him staring up at her, her staring down at him. He didn’t move to close the gap this time either.

His hand came back up to her neck, then he slowly ran his fingers through her hair.

“I like it like this,” he murmured.

Her eyelids fluttered down, meeting his gaze. “I know you do.”

“Did you leave it down for me?”

“Maybe. A little,” she conceded on a whisper, finally admitting it to herself. She’d declared defeat after Melbourne, unable to summon the will to straighten it every day. It was about saving time, she’d insisted to herself. It had nothing to do with Will’s face when he looked at her like this.

“Are you sure we’re not kissing? Because I really want to kiss you right now.”

She wanted it more than she wanted to draw her next breath. She let out an unsteady sigh. “No, I’m not sure, and that’s the problem.”

Please , she begged silently. Choose it for me so I don’t have to.

He reached for her hip with his free hand, then lazily dragged it up her side, nudging her arm up until her hand was resting on his shoulder. Her fingers flexed, digging in. His other hand ran through her hair again before coming to rest on the side of her face. His thumb traced the bottom edge of her lip and she leaned in to him, eyes half-closed. “Maybe you should try it again,” he said softly. “Just to be sure.”

The dark and the trees and the dancing lights were making her feel lightheaded. It was hard to remember her own name, never mind why she shouldn’t be giving in to the impulse to kiss him. So she stopped fighting it, and suddenly gravity seemed to do the rest, the strength of her desire pulling her body inexorably into his.

She let her eyes slide closed, quieting the last reminders of the real world, and a second later, her lips were on his. In the days since that kiss in Melbourne, she’d almost convinced herself it hadn’t been as magical, as electric, as she’d thought.

She was wrong. This was, hands down, one of the best kisses of her life. Those lips felt as good as they looked, and when his tongue traced her bottom lip, she opened to it, letting it sweep in and stroke her own. The breathy moan that escaped her throat sounded loud in the quiet of the tiny park.

Will’s hand tightened on her hip, and her fingers slid up to grip the back of his neck. She wanted to climb off the bench and wrap herself around him, feel him wrap himself around her.

His fingers slipped under the edge of her shirt, and his palm settled against her bare back.

When his teeth nipped gently at her bottom lip, she groaned, pressing closer to him. His hand slid down to the back of her thigh once more, urging her forward. And so she leaned in to him, letting him pull her body against his and lift her clean off her feet.

Slowly he lowered her to the ground. Her body slid down the length of his, his mouth never leaving hers. As her chest slid along his and her thighs pressed against his, a moan escaped her and disappeared into his mouth.

His kiss turned hungry, his teeth dragging along her sensitive bottom lip. His hands were on her hips, then sliding up to her waist, just under the hem of her shirt again, hot against her bare skin. It was all too much … too much heat and need and wanting. She felt like nothing but exposed nerves, and every place he touched her flared to life. All she could do was hang on to him, arms wrapped around his hard shoulders to steady herself.

“You are just …” he muttered as his lips left hers for an instant. But she didn’t get to hear what she was as he turned his head and kissed her again, from a different angle, licking at her lips, at her tongue.

His hand was on her rib cage, his palm like a brand on her skin. Then he was cradling her breast and she arched up under him. It was so good, but not enough. She wanted more. Her nipples were so hard they ached, and when his thumb scraped across one over the thin lace of her bra, it made her feel near to exploding. A persistent ache pulsed between her thighs. His hard body pressed to hers wasn’t enough to ease it. Only one thing would.

He shifted his weight, sliding one of his thighs between hers, and suddenly he was pressed right against where she needed him most. She gasped as he broke from her mouth, kissing across her cheek and down the side of her neck. She gasped again, her breathing ragged as his thumb eased down the edge of her bra and slid across her bare nipple.

God yes, that’s what she wanted. His hands on her body. Everywhere.

“Oh …” she sighed into the warm night air. His thigh pressed into her and she shuddered.

“Mira …” he moaned into her shoulder.

Somewhere far away, something buzzed. It stopped then started again. At first it seemed like one thread of the distant city noises, but gradually it pierced her awareness. Not the city. Her phone, somewhere from the muffled depths of her bag.

Will’s fingers dove into her hair, holding her face close to his. “Ignore it.” He kissed her again and she almost—almost—gave in, but now that her phone had reminded her of the real world, it came crashing back in like a tidal wave. Work. Will. This thing they weren’t supposed to be doing.

“I can’t.” She leaned back, untangling herself from him.

She reached for her bag, but his hand closed over hers. “Mira …”

She pulled her hand from under his. “This is too complicated. I can’t do this with you.”

“Why not?”

“Because I can’t do this to him. Not again.”

“Do this to who?”

“My dad!” she shouted. “Okay? I can’t do this to my dad again.”

Will blinked in confusion. “What does he have to do with anything?”

“Everything.”

He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “Look, I know it’s tricky, you working for your dad and me a driver for the team, but—”

She shook her head forcefully, the last of the day’s magic vanishing. “No, it’s not tricky. It’s impossible. This is impossible.”

“Mira, we’re both adults here. So your dad might disapprove? Fuck that.”

“You don’t understand.”

“So explain it to me!” His shout sounded loud in the quiet of the park.

She said nothing, because she couldn’t explain it, not without telling him everything.

“I’m getting a car back,” she murmured, swiping to unlock her phone. It lit up with missed messages and calls. Her stomach plunged. Harry, Omar, Ian, Violet, Dad … “Fuck.”

“What?”

“Something’s happened at the track and I wasn’t there because I was here, with you, the one place I am not supposed to be.”

She turned to run, but he caught her by the arm.

“Mira, stop. I’m sure it’s fine—”

She jerked her arm free. “It’s not fine! This is what happens when …” She stopped and swallowed hard. “I don’t think we should hang out anymore.”

He blinked. “What? Now you can’t be my friend, either?”

That forced a scoff of humorless laughter free from her throat, thinking of the last few intoxicating minutes … his mouth on hers, his hands on her body, his leg pressed between her thighs. “Come on, Will. This isn’t exactly a friendship.”

“No,” he snapped. “It’s a little more than friendship, if you’d quit lying to yourself about it.”

“Because of course, it’s all about you getting laid.”

He snapped back like she’d slapped him. That was a low blow and she knew it. But she was panicking, and she just needed him to stop—stop pursuing her, stop tempting her—because she’d very nearly given in to him just now, and that was the one thing she couldn’t do.

“Sure,” he finally said, throwing his hands in the air. “Because that’s who I am, right, Mira? You’re no better than all those bloody reporters. You made up your mind about me before you ever knew me.”

The sting of that lodged deep. But he was right—she had judged him before she ever really knew him. She realized she was wrong now, but it didn’t matter. Let him believe that if it put an end to this.

“This is really for the best, Will. You don’t want to get involved with me anyway. Trust me.”

She couldn’t handle looking him in the eye right now, so she didn’t. Turning away before he could see her eyes glass over with tears, she ran the rest of the way across the park, out to the nearby street, where she could call a car, get back to work, and leave fantasies behind her, where they belonged.