He leans forward, so swiftly and suddenly that I almost shrink back before realizing that Ican’t. Nobody’s watching us right now, but if they turn and see me shrinking away from Asher, they might get certain ideas. If they just see him murmuring something to me, they’ll assume that we’re talking shop quietly to avoid being overheard.
Hopefully.
“The status quo is gone, sweetheart.” His murmur is simultaneously rough and sensual. My nipples harden, and I curse the thin sports bra I chose this morning. I was going for comfort, but if Asher looks down, he’ll see them.
Shit.
“It’s never coming back. If I were you, I’d get on board with that.” My breath catches in my throat when his knee brushes mine again, the touch subtle yetsosensual, because Iknowit’s on purpose.
As swiftly as he moved into my space, he retreats. His eyes lower, and his lips quirk. “Nice shirt, by the way.”
“Fuck you,” I mutter.
“Gladly. Any time you want the ride of your life, sweetheart.”
My cheeks heat, and embarrassingly, my nipples harden even more—which is not lost on Asher.
“Don’t talk to me for the rest of the ride,” I mutter. “And keep your leg away from mine.”
I pop my headphones back in and turn up the music.
Asher spreads his legs even wider, resting his knee against mine, and leaves it there for the rest of the flight.
Dick.
It’s late by the time we get to our hotel in Jeddah. I’m exhausted, jetlagged, and overworked. Asher seemed to be sleeping peacefully after our little tiff, but then, his leg never moved an inch away from mine so I can’t be sure.
I’m starving, so after checking into my hotel room, I wander downstairs in search of a vending machine. Unfortunately, I don’t find one in this five-star-hotel; instead, there are several Michelin starred restaurants to choose from, a smoothie bar, and a bakery.
I settle for an obscenely overpriced smoothie. It’sthirty dollars, but it also happens to be the cheapest thing I can find in the hotel.
Moments like these, Idowish I got at least a little bit of family money or decided to go into a high-paying career right from the get-go. Having to check my bank account balance before paying for a drink is embarrassing.
“Hey,” a timid,Americanvoice greets behind me as I’m waiting for my smoothie—which better be laced with goddamngold.
I spin around, brows drawing together when I see a vaguely familiar guy sitting at one of the few available tables. Even at the smoothie bar on the outskirts of the lobby, they’re covered with white cloths and haveutensils. Who the hell uses a utensil for a smoothie?
“Hey,” I reply. Have I met him somewhere on the F1 circuit? I did interview pretty widely before settling for a job with Gaston.
“I’m, uh, Henry,” he says awkwardly.
Henrylooks like he’s somewhere in his mid-twenties, my age,andlike this is the first time he’s ever spoken to a girl.
“You here for the race?” I ask.
He nods. “Yeah. I’m interning with Stallion.”
Immediate, visceral dislike sinks its claws into me, simply on the basis thatHenryis the reason I got such a dismissive brush-off from Stallion, which is the #2 team in the entire F1 circuit—right under Cheetah.
“Nice.” I spin back around to face the counter.
The chef—a smoothie maker is wearing achef’suniform—slides my drink across the counter and offers me a pearly white smile.
I struggle not to return it with a snarl. “It should come with a motorcycle,” I quip.
“Do you want to join me?” Henry asks, motioning to the table. “We, um, ran into each other the first race of the season.” He gives an awkward laugh, pushing his wire-framed glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know if you remember me…”
Now that he mentions it, Idoremember him. I mowed him over when I was trying to make my way through security despite not having a badge. Henry here said he knew me and helped me get through—and that wasafterI ran him over.
