‘What?’
‘It’s ok.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me any of this? It’s not a crime, you know; you just need to communicate,’ he says, like it’s the plainest thing in the world.
‘I’ve never told anyone before. If I haven’t told previous partners, why would I tell a one-night stand?’ It’s also mortally embarrassing, but I keep that one to myself.
Jack’s stumped. He opens his mouth to argue and closes it again. My reasoning’s pretty airtight.
‘Also, our one-night stand needs to be kept a secret,’ I add.
‘I know, I know, journalists can’t have sexual ties to drivers.’
‘It’s not that.’ I mean, he’s not wrong – Brian already thinks I’m a nepo baby, I don’t need him thinking I slept my way here too. ‘There’s a thing with my mum. She can’t find out.’
His brow creases. ‘What?—’
‘Surely it’s not good for your image either. The teams are very touchy about their reputations these days.’
His cocky swagger’s back. ‘Roberts, I’m Pagari’s golden boy. At the very least, I honour media commitments. At the most, I won them two World Championships. So long as I’m not jeopardising my third title or brewing meth in a caravan in the New Mexico desert,’ wow,this boy really lovesBreaking Bad, ‘I have a pretty long rein.’
I sigh and he laughs.
‘It would cause havoc, wouldn’t it? It’s probably not explicitly forbidden in your contract but fraternising with journalists is far from ideal,’ I press.
He sighs in defeat. ‘Not ideal, no.’
‘I could make you reveal insider secrets.’
He lifts his jaw. ‘Good luck. I’m very stealthy.’
I roll onto my stomach and prod his chest. ‘You’d be surprised what I can get out of you.’
His teeth glint in the streetlights filtering through the window. ‘Give me your worst, Roberts.’
‘Tell me what you think of the other drivers.’
He smiles down at his hands. ‘They’re all very talented and have Championship futures.’
I give him another poke and he pokes back. ‘Stop with the PR crap. Come on.’
‘Only if you cuddle me,’ he says. ‘Compromise.’
I can probably manage that. ‘Fine.’
He opens his arms but makes no move to fold me in, leaving it all up to me. Dickhead. I feel a spike of discomfort as I settle against his naked chest and fix my arms at his sides. It’s not a horrible chest, it’s actually very smooth and toned. He smells good for someone who’s driven a racing car and had sex since he’s last showered. There’s a hint of expensive cologne and something underneath that’s all… Jack. I didn’t mind being here when his fingers were touching me, why should now be any different?
His arms close around me in the most natural way. I wish I could be more like that. I wish I wasn’t covered in a cold sweat that has absolutely nothing to do with his AC. He’s going to think I’m a slippery minger.
‘My god, woman, you’re freezing!’ he exclaims, clutching me tighter and rubbing my arms.
‘Eilo?’ I suggest, desperately trying to distract him.
‘Eilo…’ His voice rumbles against my cheek. ‘He’s too young to have developed fear.’
‘I thought you said when you let fear in, your career’s over.’
‘No, I said when you let fear cloud your judgement and control you, your career’s over. You need it. With the right mental conditioning, it’s a useful tool. Without it, you’re scary and a danger to other drivers. He’ll get it, though. Either one bad accident or a couple of seasons will make sure of that.’
