“Then, he’s there, waiting for us after we get out of the Formula One talk thingy. Invites us to dinner. Kisses me in the elevator. Tells me it isn’t over. Has breakfast with us the next morning, like nothing happened, and then…nada.”
“Hang on. Back up. He kissed you?”
“Yep.” I take a large swig of wine. “Jett was messing around, getting ready, and I went down to meet Leandro, so we wouldn’t be late. He was in the elevator, and I got in. He kissed me, like toe-curling-rip-our-clothes-off kiss. Then, I stopped it because we were in an elevator, and I didn’t want Jett to wonder where we were. Then, Leandro said, and I quote, ‘This isn’t over, not by a fucking long shot. I intend to finish that kiss.’ Then, nothing since.”
Kit is looking at me with a grimace. “That was way too much information for me to hear about my sister.”
“Sorry.” I wince, knowing how much I get grossed out hearing about his love life.
“So, Silva hasn’t made a move since then?”
“Nope.”
“He’s waiting you out.”
“Huh?”
“The last time you guys were together, before this kiss, you pushed him away and stayed away for seven months. He’s the one who initiated contact with you via the Prix tickets. Then, he kissed you again. He’s waiting for you to make the next move. He wants to know that it’s not all one-sided.”
I ponder that for a minute with another mouthful of wine. “You really think so?”
“Yep. Look, do you love this guy?”
That catches me off guard.
Do I love Leandro?
I’ve thought about this a lot, more so these last few days, and I’m pretty sure I do. Only…saying it aloud will make it real. And really, if I’m going to admit it to anyone, it should be Leandro.
Lifting my shoulders, I shrug.
“I’ll take that as a yes. Look, I haven’t seen you this way about anyone—ever. And I get your hang-ups, Indy, and I wouldn’t say to do anything that would jeopardize your career. You know that. But I think you’re safe here. It’s been seven months since you last treated him. You’re clearly in love with this guy. I want you to be happy. You haven’t been happy for seven months. Since he came back into your life, you’ve been happy.”
“I have been happy.”
“Bullshit. Sure, you’re happy when you’re with Jett and me. But there’s something missing for you, and that something is clearly him. On that note, after just sounding like a fucking advice columnist, I’m going to go get my man card back. I’m going to drink beer and watch the racing highlights, seeing as though I didn’t get to watch it at Silverstone,” he says pointedly.
I stick my tongue out at him.
Thirty years old, and my brother can still reduce me to a teenager.
He stands, not before taking another swig from my wine bottle.
“Kit…” I stop him with my words. “What do you think I should do?”
“I think you should man the fuck up and talk to him. Tell him how you feel.”
“You mean, woman up,” I call after him.
I hear his resounding chuckle. “Just go fucking see him, Indy. I’ll stay home with Jett.”
I stare down into my wine, thinking over Kit’s words.
Seeing Leandro again this weekend, spending time with him…kissing him, I know that I can’t go without him anymore. I can’t spend another seven months without seeing him.
I can’t go another day.
I need to see him now.
“FOR FUCK’S SAKE,” I growl at the sound of the doorbell.
If it’s Carrick coming to gloat about his win, then he can fuck off.
I was just about to call India. I didn’t get a chance to see her at the track after the race. I had press obligations, and then I got pulled into a meeting, so my bosses could complain about me coming in third and figure out why I had lost.
I am pissed that I lost.
But I know why I did.
It had nothing to do with the car. It was running perfectly.
It was because of India. I was distracted with thoughts of her.
With India in my head for the past seven months, missing her was a distraction in itself, but it was a hell of a lot easier to find my focus when she wasn’t near me. Having her at Silverstone, knowing she was watching me race, seeing her again, breathing in her smell, tasting her…
Jesus that kiss.
I had forgotten how amazing she tasted, how she felt against my body, and in my hands.
I haven’t been able to stop thinking about that damn kiss. I am pretty sure I’ve spent the whole weekend hard.
I could barely concentrate enough to race.
I have been dreaming about being back inside her for seven months, and I really need to finish what I started. Hence, the reason I was going to call her. I had considered stopping by her place on my way home but decided against it. I thought I would come home and call her instead. Test the water and see where her mind is.
Sure, I want to fuck her again. But I want more with her. I don’t want to rush her and end up pushing her away again.
I consider ignoring the door, but then the bell goes again. Getting up from the sofa, I head for the front door. Without checking the peephole, I pull the door open.
The air leaves my lungs in a rush, and all my blood flows directly to my cock. “India.”
To say her being here is unexpected would be putting it mildly, but I am very fucking happy that she is.
“Hi.” She is nervously wringing her hands.
My eyes go to them and then back to her face. “Are you okay?”