Not thinking out my plans is becoming a pattern, ever since Chloe stumbled into my life. Catching her crying on my cellar floor made my heart twist in a way that had me acting first, thinking later.
The night is everything I expected, which adds to my concern. I should have trusted my instincts and rejected this plan. My gut feeling was right. Chloe’s family is completely starstruck. It was written all over their faces the moment they entered my house. Originally, I chalked it up to my doubts about others’ intentions, hoping they wanted to get to know my girlfriend too. Instead, they steamrolled over every comment centered around Chloe tonight, focusing back on me.
Chloe is putting a lot of stock into Matteo accepting her once she admits her identity to him. I’m afraid she will only be disappointed if he rejects her. And worse, I’m nervous she won’t have a reason to stay here anymore if he breaks her heart. He’s the one person tying her to this town, and I can’t have him screwing it up. I enjoy her company too much to lose it now.
I was hoping to be wrong about Matteo and his son, but everything that happened tonight proves I’m probably right. And fuck them both if it makes Chloe miserable. So hence, my stupid game. The same one that reignited the fire within Chloe, banishing her tears. Like a champion, she marched through my house and took her seat next to me.
I clutch onto her hand, holding it hostage against the tabletop. She raises a brow at me, and I smile. The tiny voice in my head whispers how lines are blurring and feelings are bound to get hurt. But for once in the past few years of my isolated life, I don’t bother listening to it. I’ve spent far too long being numb. I’m so damn tired of it, I’ll play all these games with Chloe and enjoy our private stakes.
Matteo stares at our hands joined on the table. “How long have you two known each other?”
I blink at him. The asshole finally asks a question about us, rather than just me.
Chloe takes advantage of my silence, shooting me a telling smile. “Oh. Ever since childhood. It was a slow-burning romance of the ages.” She bats her lashes.
Oh, this ought to be good. I lean in closer to her, taking a deep breath of her flowery scent before whispering in her ear. “Whoever gets the most questions out of them about a story wins. Let’s keep it fair and unbiased.”
She sucks in a sharp breath, her body shuddering as hot air escapes my mouth. Her nod of approval starts our game.
Giovanni smiles. “Oh, really? I remember hearing about Santiago’s ex on one of his sister’s vlogs. But no other information came out about her.”
I wince. Everyone was always curious about my ex-girlfriend, but I kept that story locked away with some others. During interviews, I preferred to keep my life private, and reporters took it as something salacious instead of innocent.
Chloe shrugs in a faux-shy way, her long lashes fluttering. “Well, it’s me. This big guy was secretive about it all.”
“Why?” Matteo takes a sip of his wine.
“He was ashamed to tell others how he lost me after I broke his heart.”
I force my laugh into a ragged cough.
“No freaking way! You broke his heart? Why?” Giovanni’s eyes threaten to pop out of their sockets.
“Back when I knew him, he was just a boy with a dream of racing one day. But fame changes people, and I was afraid.” Her lip wobbles.
Everyone becomes enthralled by her story, including myself. We hang on to each new piece of information she shares. I keep a mental tally of each question, with her story of us breaking up earning a total of eleven questions. That’s going to be a hard one to beat.
Chloe gloats like she’s on top of a podium, shooting me a taunting smile. She mouths beat that when her family isn’t looking.
Matteo excuses himself to use the restroom. Giovanni follows him, claiming he needs to go as well. It’s a fitting intermission for our dinner and a show.
I reach out toward her, grazing her bottom lip with my thumb. Her smile drops as her eyes widen.
There’s no reason to get close to her, but I can’t help it. And more importantly, I don’t want to. “Don’t plan your victory parade just yet.”
She rolls her eyes, but her breaths become shallower as my thumb rubs back and forth across her bottom lip. “I can’t see how you’ll beat eleven questions. You count grunting as a second language.”
I laugh, low and rough. “If you knew the old me, you’d take back that statement. I don’t like losing.”
Her eyes soften. “I don’t need to know the old you.”
“And why is that?” My thumb moves toward her cheek, stroking the soft skin.
None of this is fake now. Her reaction, my interest, the way both our bodies respond to each other’s touch. It’s all so fucking real, I can practically taste the attraction between us both.
“Because I find this version of you intoxicating enough.” Her eyes flutter shut as she leans into my touch.
“What if I said I really want to kiss you right now?”
“Then I’d tell you to take what you want before you lose the chance.”
Blood rushes through my body, and my dick twitches beneath my jeans. I press my lips to hers, and Chloe releases a breathy sigh.
Some kisses stoke a passion. Some kisses heal the soul. Kissing Chloe is a combination of two—the sweetest medicine that leads to a lifelong addiction.
I run my tongue across her bottom lip and get a taste of her favorite wine. Her body shudders, and her lips tremble beneath my onslaught. A yearning builds within me to pull her closer. To piece myself back together with her help.
The clapping of shoes against the marble floor has us pulling away from each other. I have a strong desire to pull her back, but our company stops me.
Chloe’s eyes bounce between my lips and my eyes. “That was…”
Real. Incredible. Fucking undeniable and if you friend-zone me again I swear to God I’ll kiss the word straight out of your vocabulary. “Only the beginning.” I brush my thumb across her lower lip one last time, the plumpness easily becoming my favorite distraction.
Matteo and Giovanni enter the dining room, stealing our attention away once again.
I turn away from Chloe despite the urge I have to steal her away and call it a night. “Chloe reminded me of a funny story while you both were in the restroom.”
“Oh, hell yes!” Giovanni claps his hands together.
“I’m not sure if you read anything in the papers about the time a desperate fan was escorted off the F1 property after they snuck into my suite to confess their love?”
Chloe’s laugh echoes off the walls, solidifying my choice. I like the way it sounds way too much.
“No! Wow. How long ago was this?” Matteo smiles.
One question down, eleven more to go.
I might have stepped away from the F1 podiums, but that doesn’t mean I stopped craving a win. And I’m ready to beat the competition into submission.
“We’re going to die. It’s official. God save us,” Chloe mumbles, looking up to the car’s roof. She does the sign of the cross incorrectly, and I laugh as I show her how it’s really done.
“Relax.” I scan our surroundings. The street is empty and flat—the perfect place to teach someone how to drive.
“When you won last night, I didn’t expect you to waste your win on this.”
“Well, I did say we needed to amend your issue of not knowing how to drive. That’s illegal in my house.” I rub the leather dashboard of the Jeep. I’m offering Chloe the sturdiest of my vehicles to learn how to drive.
“There’s three pedals. Why are there three pedals?” She moans.
The sound sends a rush straight to my cock. I take a deep breath, easing the ache that’s become familiar around Chloe. “Because automatic cars are for grandmas.”
“Okay, that’s fine. I’ll own up to being a grandma because I barely go out anyway. I mean, I embroider as a hobby. I’m practically one year away from fostering cats and living the rest of my life attached to an oxygen tank.”
I offer her a blank expression, denying my urge to laugh.
She offers me the praying hands. “Please don’t make me do this. You’re no John Cusack, and this isn’t Say Anything.”
“What are you even rambling about?”
“Have you ever seen the movie?”
“No.”
She looks up at the ceiling. “It seems I have two things to pray about now. It’s no wonder you’ve been single for so long. Do you even know how to woo a woman?”
I blink at her. “I do not need to woo.”
“Everyone woos. You’re breaking my eighties-loving heart.”
“Really? How many men have you wooed?”
Her cheeks flush. “Uhm…I don’t woo. But that’s different.” The words rush out of her mouth.
“Of course it is. Double standards tend to be oddly convenient.”
Her mouth parts. “Excuse me? There are no double standards. I just was never interested in wooing someone before! That’s totally different.”
“Because your eighties-loving heart set your standards for love too high?”
“Exactly. You’d understand if you grew up around my mother and her crappy boyfriend. I’d rather have high standards than that dumpster fire mislabeled as a romance.”
“Wait. Have you not been in love?” I don’t know why I’m shocked. I’ve never been in love either, but Chloe…she’s different. Someone should’ve snatched her up by now. At least for a little while.
She focuses on the steering wheel. “No. Have you?”
“No,” I answer honestly.
“See, maybe if you wooed a girl, you’d be in love already.” She flashes me a grin.
I shake my head and return my attention back to the task. “Stop distracting me so I can explain how this is done.”
I go through each step with her, explaining the gear shift, the pedals, and all the other basics she needs to know.
She grips onto the gear shift and tries to move it. Her brows pull together as she releases an exaggerated sigh. “Well, I guess since the car is broken, we should just quit now before anyone gets hurt. Better safe than sorry.”
“You forgot to turn the car on.” I cover my smile with my fist.
“You’re enjoying my struggle way too much. I knew you were demented, but this is a whole new level of fucked up, Santiago Alatorre.” Chloe rolls her Rs perfectly.
My dick perks up at the way she says my name. I’ve yet to share my nickname with her, which is new for me. I kind of like how Chloe’s one of the few people to call me Santiago rather than Santi. Might as well keep it that way. I shimmy in my seat, adjusting myself while explaining how to turn on the car.
I pluck her hand from the gear shift and show her the movements. The addictive smell of her invades my nose as I lean in. I want to stay in the position, with my dick throbbing and her driving my car becoming an erotic dream.
Yeah, I’m a horny fucker. I got it. Anyone would be after being in a relationship with their right hand for as long as I have.
“Did you just sniff my hair?” Chloe’s incredulous voice snaps me out of my fantasy.
“No.”
“Oh my God, you totally did!” Her giggles become a full-blown belly laugh.
“You’re delusional. I was trying to check for any gas leaks.”
“In my hair?” She turns toward me. Her chest brushes against my arm, reminding me of everything I’m tempted to touch. “You’re shy.” She traces a finger across my heating cheeks.
Her touch ignites a fire in my veins, forcing more blood into the very cheeks she strokes.
Fuck. Since when have I been shy?
Since you became a freak to the public, the small yet effective voice in my head offers.
I cover up my dark thoughts with an eye roll. “No. Men like me aren’t shy.”
She pokes my chest before dragging her finger down the muscles of my stomach. “You totally are. Tell me, why do you like sniffing my hair?”
“Truth or lie?”
Her gaze meets mine. “Truth. Always the truth.”
“Because you smell annoyingly good and I wanted more, okay? Are you happy now?”
“Absolutely thrilled. Sniff away, you creep.” Her laugh drowns out the car booting up.
Her mood is infectious. I absorb it, allowing her positive energy to pulse through me. I’m growing to enjoy Chloe’s presence as we spend more time together. And honestly, part of me wonders what more I can do to have her stay a bit longer around me.
