The moment Jay opens the door, I hear the boys basically clamor to come greet the man I’m standing next to.

“Racer, man, looking good!” They slap him welcome, and Racer tugs me next to him with his hand on mine.

The drivers are trying to shake his hand all at the same time, so I pry my hand free, noticing him frown down at me as Jay leads him in, patting him on the back. “What’s your poison, Tate? Vodka, tequila, whiskey? You look like a whiskey man, let me pour you some …” He trails off and comes back carrying two glasses filled with an amber-colored liquid.

“Nah I don’t drink.”

“Oh, shit, seriously man? Well I mean we have other things to make this night special …”

Oh, shit, really? What are they going to bring him? Girls?

Feeling out of place, because I’ve never really spent any time with the drivers—I suppose partying hard isn’t my thing, and I’ve never been interested in one (until now)—I start making my way to the bathroom and turn back to see Racer caged in by some of the drivers introducing their dates and also pushing for him to have a little drink.

I turn away and get to the bathroom, closing the door behind me and putting my hands on the sink, ducking my head between.

I don’t know why coming here tonight with Racer has me feeling like a charged ball of nerves.

I hear the door open next to me and I turn to tell whoever it is to get the fuck out but I see Racer come in. My mouth stops moving and then snaps shut.

“Racer, I would like a little privacy if that’s okay with—”

I gasp as he shuts me up with his mouth crashing down on mine. He kisses me out of my mind, until all thoughts and nervousness go silent. He starts making out with me, lifting me by the ass to the edge of the sink and wrapping my legs around him so that he’s nestled right between my legs. I can feel him, hard as steel, through his trousers and I moan into his mouth, bringing him closer to me, wrapping my arms around his neck and nestling my fingers into the hair at the back of his neck.

He kisses down my jaw and I thrum head to toe.

“Aren’t we just the epitome of teenage lust right now,” I murmur as my lungs struggle to work.

“We’re not teenagers and this isn’t lust, baby,” he murmurs back, digging his hands into my ass to bring me closer to him as his mouth works along my jaw and neck.

I hear Redbone by Childish Gambino play in the background, the low pounding melody pulling all my control along with it, and the sultry vocals making me arch my back as I let myself be in the moment. Carried along with it.

His mouth comes back to mine and starts to open mine slowly.

He’s enjoying every second of this, making every kiss feel like the best kiss I’ve ever received until the next one comes, even better than the last.

There’s a knock on the door. “Hey! I need to pee,” I hear someone call from outside.

I struggle to catch my breath as Racer eases back and looks at me wolfishly.

He shakes his head no and starts to slide his hands up my dress, his thumbs caressing my inner thighs.

Fuck, he just made it so much harder for me to want to get out of this room …

I open my legs a little more for him and kiss him harder.

“We didn’t finish last night. I was going to flood your insides with me,” he smirks, his eyes brilliant.

“I … that makes me a little nervous,” And so hot. “But …”

He strokes his thumb down my cheek, and I sense him more intense than usual, his eyes blue but a little darker shade of blue, his smile cocky, territorial, possessive, as he leans down to lick me.

“As much as I want to do that,” he murmurs, seizing the back of my neck to kiss me deeply again and again. “I’m going to wait until you reciprocate before I do.”

Lana

The touches don’t stop.

(Lucky meeee.)

Racer looks at me intensely, making me feel as if I’m his. We just reached Belgium. Racer has been relentless these past races—London, Hungary. We are seven races away from the final, in Abu Dhabi, and holding P2 in the points championship.

He sends me well kissed to my room every night. I’m a ball of wanting and lust and love—he’s breaking me down and I know it.

“You look different, Lainie. Very … refreshed.”

“Thank you, Daddy.”

“There’s that twinkle in your eye and glow to your cheeks.”

He’s staring at me with a smile.

“Daddy, come on,” I say, taking a seat as I place our healthy yogurt and granola breakfasts before us.

I love Belgium. The track here—the Circuit de Spa-Francorchamps—is the most beautiful I’ve ever seen. Amidst rolling hills and a world of green trees, it’s also the most challenging track because of its twisted curves and up/down inclines.

“You’re in love,” he says. He looks childlike. Laughing.

“Dad,” I say, frowning as I open my yogurt. But my cheeks feel hot.

“You’re in love, Lainie.” He reaches out and pats my cheek. “Real love.”

“Why do you say that?” I ask.

“I have a pair of eyes. And … a father’s intuition.”

I flush, scooping yogurt and eating granola as I scan the people around the hotel coffee shop to distract myself. My dad is looking at me all this time.

“See, from the moment that boy walked into my hotel room in Australia, I could feel the charge between you two.”

“Dad!” I say, laughing and frowning as I open his yogurt. “Come on, eat.”

“He feels the same,” he says, as if he’s assuring me as he takes a spoonful.

“Is that your dad intuition? Are you his father too?”

He chuckles and licks yogurt off his spoon, pointing at me with that boyish look on his face. “Male intuition. Quite powerful. Plus that boy doesn’t even try to be subtle about it. Hell, he’ll stare even when your brothers throw him a thousand dragons’ fires with their eyes.”

I laugh, then I just stare at my dad, craving for him to tell me more.

“He’s a good kid. A bit of a handful, but you survived your dad and three brothers, so I think you can handle yourself,” he says.

“I’m afraid,” I whisper.

“Why?”

Silence. I just can’t put into words the way it hurts to even be apart from him. The way I crave everything about him, adore everything about him.

“Of getting hurt?” he asks me, peering into my face.

I nod.

“Don’t think that way. If I’d been afraid to open our team because we’d lose, I’d be on a couch somewhere, slowly dying.”

“Daddy, don’t talk like that.”

“It’s true. These past months, I’ve lived more than I had in years with your mom.”

“But see, Daddy … You got hurt. You two thought you’d be together forever.”

“We all get hurt. The question is: Who do you love enough, trust enough, and want enough to give the power to hurt you?”

He looks out at the streets and aims his gaze in the direction of the track.

“You race a car, you can die in an instant. And yet there they are. When you love it enough, it’s worth it.”

“We really had to talk about it in car terms, didn’t we.” I sigh.

He laughs, and I take his hand. “You look well.”

“I’m doing okay.” His eyes shutter as if he doesn’t want to tell me something, and my stomach tightens a little. But he smiles next and starts eating his yogurt, and I relax and eat mine, marveling how well my father knows me …

Also marveling that I can feel this light, this happy, this blissful in my life. I cannot get enough of Racer, of being near him, talking to him, teasing him, looking at him, touching him, kissing him.

Racer appears, and the sight of him in a grey hoodie and comfortable track pants as he walks the line for coffee makes me drool. His hair looks a little spiky today, damp from a recent bath and black as midnight. My knees feel mushy as I hop to my feet and approach him, aware of a pair of girls seated at the far end ogling him from afar and frantically snapping pictures of him.