“Food,” she groans. “Real food, not the weird shit they were serving at the gala.Sugar. Speaking of sugar, did I tell you how Oliver was extorting me for cookies at the beginning of the season? I had to bake himsix batchesin return for ridiculously encrypted data about the team. But when I asked him for other teams’ data, he didn’t want anything.”
That would be becauseIhad an order of six dozen ridiculously expensive cookies delivered to him. Something tells me Victoria has neither the time nor the leftover attention for baking him a bunch of fucking cookies. Whenever she’s not at HQ, I know she’s hard at work on her algorithm.
“I guess he grew a conscience and decided not to overwork you even more.”
“Or he discovered a fear of high cholesterol and the potential for type-two diabetes,” she says. Her gaze flits between the baked good options, gelatos, and even sandwiches lined up behind the glass display case. A slight groan leaves her lips, and my gut clenches. I don’t think she means for the sound to be sexual, butfuck me,it is.
We move up in the line of people waiting to be served. “I glimpsed you and Hunter chatting at the bar,” she says, sliding me a sideways glance. “I hope he didn’t grill you too hard.”
He only showed that he’s been stalking both of us, and informed me that I’m a dead man if I harm a hair on your head.If he weren’t so goddamn diabolical about it, I might even respect the gesture.
“No,” I lie. “It was fine.” I could tell her the truth of the matter, but despite my scathing distaste for Hunter Aster, I don’t want to hurt his relationship with his sister. It’s obvious he’s very important to her. As long as he doesn’t pull that shit again, I’ll keep my mouth shut.
“You sure?” she asks. “He threatened to kill my boyfriend in college if he hurt me. Hunter’s always been a little… protective of me.”
“I couldn’t tell,” I say drily. “I saw you were getting cozy with Elio’s top sponsor.”
“And one of the team’s top investors,” she replies. “I caught him in the lounge when… I was asked to stay off track a few races ago. He noticed I was coding, we talked, and he gave me some advice. Tonight, he was very interested in an update.”
Guilt pinches my brows at the memory. I was an unforgivable level of asshole when I demanded she get ousted from the paddock. My only explanation is that I was angry at myself and took it out on her, but that’s not an acceptable way to behave.
“I’m sorry about that time,” I say. “And… all the other times I was unnecessarily mean.”
“I know,” she replies softly. “Just… please don’t do it again. It was frustrating but fine when I was just the intern and you just the driver, but if you did that now,” she shakes her head. “I wouldn’t take it lying down.”
“The fact that you don’t take things lying down is one of the things I enjoy most about you.” I lean forward. “Except for my cock.” I plan for her to take that inmanyways. Lying down. Bent over a table. On all fours—
Don’t think about it in public, moron.
Her breathy gasp doesn’t help matters. Ten seconds later, I have to fuckingadjust myself.Thankfully, she doesn’t notice as she steps forward to place her order. Ice creamanda chocolate croissant, along with a decaf coffee. She’s giving Oliver a run for his money.
I get myself a sandwich even though what I’m really craving is sugar. I can practicallyhearGio in my ear, warning me to stay in shape.
We take our food to the table in the back. Victoria digs in with gusto, and the little moan she makes—stop thinking about it. Donotthink about it.
I feel like a preteen who’s just discovered his right hand. I’m wound so tight I might explode the moment I get inside her, which would just be embarrassing.
When was the last time I lost control of myself like this? When I wasthisdesperate for a fuck? Maybe in high school?
But I know that Victoria won’t be afuck. Already, I have the sinking, horrifying suspicion that she’ll be a revelation.
“So… do you want to, um, come over after this?” she asks, stirring her ice cream with her spoon.
I thought you’d never ask. “Sure. Oryoucould come over. I have a very large, very comfortable bed. And a fully-stocked bar.”
“I don’t want to do the walk of shame at 3am.Youcan do the walk of shame.”
“Sweetheart, I do not intend for you to beableto walk when I’m done with you, so you’ll be staying the night. My breakfast options at home are shit—my chef only makes mehealthyfoods—but we can order something. It’s the weekend, so we could theoretically stay in bed all day.”
“Oh, no.” She shakes her head. “I want to have a beta version of my algorithm ready before the next race. I’m working all weekend.”
“You’re staying the night,” I insist. I don’t want her going home at that hour. The commute between my place and hers is substantial, and I don’t want her to take it so late.
I also just don’t want her to leave. I don’t want this to be my usual one night stand.
That is… a new fucking sensation. This desire to not only get what I need and get out, but to come back for seconds, thirds, and fifths. The desire to haveheras my date and let the whole world know that she belongs to me.
“Maybe. We’ll have to see if your performance is satisfactory.”
