She presses her smiling lips against mine again.
“Not helping,” I grumble.
She giggles, and I fucking love the sound.
With Superman strength, I somehow manage to move away from her. I press my back against the wall opposite her. Seeing her lipstick smeared around her mouth, knowing I did that, gives me utter satisfaction.
“You might want to fix your lipstick.” I grin.
Getting her compact from her purse and opening it, she grimaces at her reflection and then starts to fix her lipstick. She puts her compact away and walks toward me. I can’t take my eyes off of her.
“You have lipstick on your mouth.” Reaching her hand up, she wipes it away with a tissue.
Her touch makes my heart pound in my chest.
“Ready?” She takes a step back and flicks a glance down to my now semihard cock.
I raise an eyebrow. “Kind of.”
She lets out a light laugh as she reaches out and presses the button, starting the elevator.
“India…” I rasp her name over my tongue. “Just so you know, this isn’t over, not by a fucking long shot.” I gesture between us. “I intend to finish that kiss.”
She bites down on the corner of those freshly painted lips. “I look forward to it.”
“THIS ISN’T OVER, NOT BY A FUCKING LONG SHOT. I intend to finish that kiss.”
Okay, well, that’s what he said, but I haven’t seen anything since.
No more kissing.
He literally hasn’t laid a hand on me since that night in the elevator, and that was two days ago.
If I didn’t believe my own sanity, I’d almost think the elevator kiss never happened.
Immediately after we were at dinner with Jett, Leandro saw us back to our room like a perfect gentleman. Then, we had breakfast with him on Saturday morning.
But we didn’t see Leandro at all after that, except for when he was in his car on the track, qualifying. He qualified lower, at sixth, which was surprising for him—not that I know much about Formula 1, except for that it’s long but kind of exciting. But I’ve been trying to keep up, and Jett’s been guiding me through.
I could imagine that Leandro wasn’t happy about qualifying so low.
Even still, it was a real privilege to watch him out there, knowing that I had a helping hand in getting him back in a car. I’m trying not to think too hard on the fact that I used to be his therapist because it reminds me that, no matter how I feel for him, in so many ways, we are impossible.
Even still, that kiss has been driving me to distraction. I want more. I want him.
The rational side of my brain isn’t in play at the moment. Every time I have a rational thought about what a bad idea pursuing anything with him is, memories of that kiss come back, running through my head like his hands did over my skin, and I’m right back to being irrational, wanting him.
Saturday night, Jett and I had plans, and Leandro was at some sponsor function, so we didn’t see him then.
Now, it’s Sunday, and we’re in the stands, watching the race. The atmosphere is amazing.
Leandro is in the top three. Apparently, he and this other driver, Hernandez, are fighting for second place, with Carrick Ryan holding first place.
I know Leandro and Carrick are friends, but I can still see their competitive rivalry on the track.
I’m just keeping my fingers crossed for Leandro, hoping he pulls it out of the bag and achieves at least second place. But I know with him, nothing short of first will be good enough.
Jett is having the time of his life this weekend, and I can see it on his face now, how much he enjoys Formula 1.
“You want that to be you one day?” I ask him over the sounds of the crowd. “Because if you do,” I continue as he turns to look at me, “I just want you to know that I’d support you all the way.”
“Who wouldn’t want to be a Formula One driver?” He grins.
“Me.” I laugh.
“It’s an expensive sport though, Mum.” He looks back out as the cars whiz by on the track.
“I’d make it work.”
“Like, really expensive,” he presses.
“If it was what you really wanted, then I’d find a way.”
“I’ll see how I get on with karting. I haven’t even entered a competition yet. Just learning at the moment.”
“I know, but I just want you to know that if it’s what you see yourself doing in the future, then I’ll support you.”
“I already know that, Mum.” He leans over and plants a kiss on my cheek. “Last couple of laps now,” he informs me.
“And how’s Leandro doing now?” I ask.
“Looking like third place.” He grimaces.
After the last lap, the flag comes down, and Leandro takes third place.
Seeing him up there on the big screen, climbing out of his car and looking frustrated, makes me wish I were there to console him.
“Sucks,” Jett comments. “But he wasn’t on top form today. You could tell from his driving.”
“Yeah,” I agree even though I have no clue what I’m agreeing to.
“So, what’s the plan?” he asks me. “Are we seeing Leandro before we leave?”
I shake my head. Leandro didn’t ask to see us before we went back home. “He’ll be busy, I imagine, doing press stuff.”
“So, we’re heading home then?”
“Yeah.”
We already checked out of the hotel earlier, and our bags are in the car. So, it’s out to the car and home.