Collided (Dirty Air Series Book 2)

The summer break left as quickly as it came. I spent a whole month without F1 activities, drama, and friends. Liam kept himself busy with sucking up to McCoy while I checked in with school. After multiple ripped up pros and cons lists, I decided to continue my course work through the fall semester since I’ve already committed three years of my life to stupid numbers and a lack of fulfillment. My dad takes the news of online classes well. He buys into my reason of wanting to expose myself to different countries while studying.

Call me cultured AF.

This semester includes classes on business law and accounting information systems. I can’t wait to hit the snooze button on my life for another year because my degree sounds less appealing by the week.

I passed the time during the summer break drawing in the sketchbook Liam bought me, chipping away at my fears while telling stories through pictures. The whole process inspired me to grow a pair and live a little.

Over the break, I decided I need to work harder to achieve the Fuck It List items because it’s part of my mission. I have my work cut out for me with a total of eight items crossed off and thirteen more to go.

Lately my plans haven’t exactly been working out how I like, and although I wish I could blame Liam, I can’t. I like his teasing and pushing my limits. Time didn’t help eliminate those feelings, especially when he called me during his free time or facetimed me some nights. We never went a day without a text or phone call.

The idea of us unnerves me, so I thrust myself into helping Maya stay away from Noah. It’s an evasion tactic with less than altruistic motives.

Did I travel to Spain to visit Maya? Yes.

Did I also visit her because I wanted to create a game plan where we both can forget about the two men who invade our thoughts? Hell freaking yes.

We travel together to the next stop in the Prix. After a month-long break, everyone returns, ready to get back in the swing of things. The first post-summer break Prix stop was too hectic for me to see Liam or the other guys, with them having mid-season tests and endless meetings.

During the next Grand Prix weekend in Milan, I plan a double date for Maya. I personally can’t resist a date with a promise for pasta. Our dates are two McCoy engineers named Daniel and John who choose a swanky restaurant in the heart of the city.

Despite their best efforts, the evening turns out to be a bust for Maya, probably because Noah found her and defiled her in some backlit corner of the restaurant. Guilt from her actions settles right next to my pasta dinner. My shame forces me to agree to another date with my guy, John. I’m not thrilled, but at least he seems like a potential match to knock off a few of my items.

That’s how, a day later, I end up standing around the McCoy motorhome waiting for John. A lunch date comes off slightly friendshippy. Since John has limited availability before the race tomorrow, he wanted to take advantage of his free time.

I smell Liam before I hear him.

“Look who finally came to visit me after a month apart. I feel honored.” Liam pulls me in for a hug, his arms tightening as he holds on to me.

“Says the guy who’s been too busy to do anything.” I catch my breath once he lets me go.

“What are you doing here in the opposing camp? Trying to wage war?” His goofy smile makes my chest tighten.

I smile at his disheveled blonde hair, the sweaty strands peeking out from under his backward ball cap. It gives him a boyish look I like a lot. His cheeks remain flushed from the high temperatures of his car. He did a great job today during his qualifying round, landing the coveted pole position.

“I’m trying to understand the enemy while plotting my takeover. It all starts with you, in case you weren’t already aware.”

His smile grows larger, and I wish I had Maya’s camera to snap a picture of it. “I knew there was something about you that would destroy me.”

“Hmm. Well at least you face your demise head-on. How bold. I tried to warn you about how I plot because I’m the worst kind of control freak.” I rub my hands together and cackle like an evil genius.

His chest shakes from laughter, bringing my attention to the way his shirt presses against the muscles of his torso. Bad Sophie.

Liam toys with the end of my French braid. “I’d face the consequences. Especially when I’d bring out another type of freak in you. All you need to do is admit defeat.” His eyes smolder.

My skin heats at his unspoken promises.

“Hey, Sophie, sorry for keeping you waiting. I had some last adjustments to make to the car. Are you ready? Oh, hey, Liam.”

I look over at John, a decent-looking guy with a mop of brown hair and kind eyes. Nothing I’d write home about if I did that sort of thing, but at least he comes off genuine. He’s the type of guy my dad would expect me to hang out with. Not the brooding man in front of me, baby blues and pouting lips on full display.

Liam scoots closer to my side, his neck pulsing. “Hey, Joe. How’s it going?”

“John.” I hiss under my breath.

Liam sends me a shit-eating grin, showing me he knows exactly whom he is speaking to. My poor date doesn’t stand a chance against the territorial man next to me.

John shifts his weight from foot to foot, ignoring Liam’s mistake. “Pretty good. Going to take Sophie out before we get busy again for the race.”

“Oh, I had no idea Sophie was making other friends besides me and Maya. Are you trying to make me jealous?” Liam’s eyes narrow at me. He runs a hand down my back, my breath hitching at his touch. His large palm lands in the dip of my back above my ass.

I step away from him and closer to John, wanting to avoid the way I want more of Liam’s touch. “Don’t be silly. I have plenty of time for all my friends.”

Liam’s nostrils flare. John’s confused eyes flick between Liam and me, unable to solve the mystery of us. Call me a shitty Sherlock because I can’t either.

“Well, it’s nice catching up. Text you later, Liam.” I drag John away from Liam.

A glance over my shoulder reveals a ticked-off Liam, his boyish charm discarded along with his easygoing smile.

I push aside the image of an angry Liam as John leads me out of McCoy’s motorhome. John’s hand remains respectfully in the middle of my back, nowhere near the spot where Liam’s was. His touch doesn’t rile me up like Liam’s does. I frown at the revelation.

Our date goes fine, and for some reason, it disappoints me. We walk through Milan’s side streets with my hand in his. My body remains numb, not a flutter in my stomach or a hint of chemistry when John grabs my hand. Even my heart keeps to the same pace while my skin remains unflushed, like my body won’t recognize John.

I chalk up my limited reaction to needing an emotional connection to someone else. Liam and I developed a friendship first, so maybe I need the same with John. It seems legit enough to make sense.

The idea eats away at me for the rest of the day, even after John drops me off at my hotel. I can’t ignore the tiny voice in my head telling me how maybe I like Liam for more. If I wasn’t scared at the notion of being attracted to Liam, then the idea of wanting more from him besides a meaningless physical connection and friendship makes me want to throw up.

I don’t want to ruin a good friendship over being another conquest in his list of contacts. That thing probably takes up four gigs of memory on his phone.

You know what is more unfortunate than falling for your friend?

Falling for a friend who has no intention of catching you before you face-plant.

A cool breeze brushes over my skin, causing one of the pages of my magazine to flip on its own. I can’t resist the hidden rooftop deck the F1 Corporate office has. Their motorhome remains the sleekest, with smooth lines and chill spaces. I lie down on one of the couches with my back pressed up against the pillows.

“How’s the list going?”

I smile at the sound of Liam’s voice. He’s typically inquisitive about the status of my checked boxes.

“Want me to make you one? You always wonder about mine, which makes me think you need one of your own.” I stare at him like a weirdo, taking in his gray McCoy polo and backward hat.

He grins at me as I close my magazine. His hands lift my legs before he sits, placing them back on his thighs. Every time Liam gets near me, my body becomes aware of his closeness, betraying me with goosebumps and an elevated heart rate. I regret the shorts I picked out this morning. They expose my legs to his arms, skin against skin.

“No, I enjoy knocking off items on yours much more. There’s nothing like your first time.” His sensual tone does things to me.

I squeeze my thighs together. His eyes dance with mischief, looking bright and beautiful as they roam over my face. My body sucks at this active ignoring thing, having a mind of its own, leaning into Liam’s body.

“Hmm. And how did you find me here?”

“Find My Friends location.” He hides his smile.

“I regret adding you back in Canada. I didn’t think you’d use it again. Should I be concerned?”

I almost miss the confirmatory mumble under his breath. He tips his head back on the couch cushions, the sun emphasizing the contours of his straight nose and full lips.

My fingers run across the glossy magazine cover. “How are you getting ready for the race tomorrow?”

“Just checking over my car, making sure everything is up to my standards and running smoothly. Speaking of, I saw Jim in the engineering room. Did your date end early? That bad, huh?”

Liam is the type to fish for information with a spear gun.

I chew on the inside of my cheek. “Oh, it went fine. Jim’s a nice guy.” Nice, thoughtful, and too good for me.

“You mean John?”

Shit. He tried to confuse me, and it worked. Liam’s presence makes it difficult for me to produce smart sentences. His hand brushes up against the smooth skin of my legs. My body jolts at his caress, unaccustomed to his recent touchiness.

Where were these reactions two hours ago with John?

I gather myself. “John is a sweet guy. He asked me on another date since he got called in early for some engineering problem.”

Liam gives me a tight smile. “That’s nice of him. I’m sure it gets busier for engineers as we get closer to race day, with car issues and whatnot. Hopefully, he’ll have enough time to balance taking you out again.”

Did Liam have something to do with John’s early return? I find his smirk questionable, and his tone sounds a bit off.

“Does that mean you’ll be around less too? What a shame.”

He bites down on his lip. “I’ll always make time for you. But what if I don’t want you to go on a date with him or anyone else?” He grabs my hand, abandoning his attention to my legs. His touch sends a shock wave up my arm.

I look at our joined hands, unsure where to go with this.

Will I ever be ready for someone like Liam? The idea of us together feels like a collision. Something I can’t prepare for, no matter how much I want to. Instant, hard, and painful with metal crunching and sparks flying. Part of me wonders if we are already halfway there, losing control of our cars before either one of us has a chance to fix things.

“I’d say you’re acting like a possessive brother.” I drop the B-word, hoping it’ll push him away, except he does the unexpected.

He laughs. “You sure try your hardest to deny everything between us. I know you’re attracted to me or else you wouldn’t have kissed me in Canada or come to the sound of my voice.”

He trails a single finger up my leg. My skin heats wherever his finger lingers before he stops at my upper thigh and leaves his hand there.

I stare at his hand, willing it to move. Higher? Lower? Anywhere but right next to the place begging for his attention?

“You can give in, you know. I won’t judge you for it. Hell, I’ll reward you, congratulating you for your efforts at lasting this long.” He abandons my thigh as he grasps my hand in his again. His thumb traces mindless circles across the thin bones in my hand.

Earth to Sophie. Pull it together. “Uh, well, I should get going.” I pull my legs off Liam’s lap, not waiting for him to respond. His throaty laugh runs across my spine as I hightail it out of there.

I walk into the Italian Grand Prix gala with my dad, the snazzy affair welcoming us with golden lights glistening off the chandeliers hanging above our heads. A live band plays on the stage while servers offer us alcohol.

My eyes go straight to the food table. “There’s a pasta buffet. I repeat, a pasta buffet.”

My dad snorts and leads me toward my paradise. “For such a tiny person, you sure do eat a lot.”

I pile my plate with pasta and bread. “Don’t give me a complex.”

He follows me to an empty table and sits with me, giving me a solid twenty minutes of his time between chatting with sponsors and coworkers.

He looks stunned at how I shovel pasta into my mouth. “I’m weirdly impressed. If there was any question of you being my daughter, this definitely rules it out.”

I glare at him and drag my fork across my throat. It fails to have the desired effect, instead making my dad laugh loud and robustly.

He offers me a bite of his veggies after he regains his composure.

“I’d rather die than eat a piece of lettuce.” I stare at his salad like it offends me.

“You know green food is meant to be good for you.” He stabs his food while longingly staring at my pasta. He chose a lean piece of chicken, passing over the pasta bar without looking back. Like he really needs to keep his figure in check. The man works out more than half the guys in my university, probably out lifting them.

“That’s good because my cereal has enough green food coloring to carry me through the day.”

“One day you’ll end up having kids of your own. Then I’ll be laughing when you shove broccoli into your mouth while trying to convince them to eat their own, with your eyes watering from trying not to gag. I didn’t eat veggies until you came around. Honestly, I thought me eating them would win you over but here I am twenty-two years later.”

“Joke’s on you.” I stick my tongue out at him.

My dad chuckles, his young appearance shining through. He has a youthfulness to him that never went away with age. When he works in the Bandini pit, he shoves jokes aside because he has to be the big guy in charge, making sure Santiago and Noah don’t screw up.

“Looks like someone found you.” My dad catches Liam’s gaze across the room.

I sigh, which gets me a heavy dose of side-eye from my dad. He remains quiet as Liam makes his way toward us, one hand carrying two champagne flutes while the other holds a bottle of Dom Pérignon.

A man after my heart.

Okay, let me stomp on that thought about fifty times.

“Mr. Mitchell, nice to see you.” Liam pulls out a chair next to me as he nods to my dad.

“Liam.” My dad eyes him curiously.

“Long time, no see.” Liam wraps his arm around the back of my chair.

“I saw you yesterday. Should McCoy be concerned about your memory?”

His smile softens my already weak resolve, acting like a seduction trap with free alcohol. He needs to put those shiny bad boys away because the light bouncing off them blinds me.

Ever since my date with John, Liam lays his flirting on extra thick, like a new wave of possessiveness took over his lightheartedness.

My dad kisses me on my temple before excusing himself. No one misses the daggers he shoots at Liam, his skepticism evident for all to see. Too bad he didn’t include his shovel-and-shotgun speech. It’s a classic.

“I brought reinforcements.” He pours us two healthy glasses of bubbly.

“I knew I liked you for a reason. Match made in heaven.” The words flow from my lips before I realize what I said.

“I didn’t know you felt that way for me.” He hits me with another wink that goes straight to my clit because he has a way with making me feel all types of things.

“I was talking to the champagne bottle so get your head out of the pit lane. You and I are destined for hell.” My eyebrow rises on command.

Liam breaks out into a deep laugh he saves for me. “Matches made in heaven are overrated anyway, being all saintly and shit. Doggy-style is the devil’s work.”

I clench my thighs together as I chug my champagne and nearly drain the glass of all the fizzy liquid. A trickle escapes the rim of the glass and trails down my lips. Before I have a chance to lick the droplet, Liam leans in, his tongue lapping up the drop before tracing across the seam of my mouth. My lips buzz at the contact, my lungs burning as I take in a sharp inhale.

What the actual hell.

Butterflies be damned because Liam is too naughty for that. Being around him feels more like hornets wreaking havoc inside of me as they try to escape.

“What are you doing?” I whisper.

“Things I should have done a long time ago.”

My eyes look everywhere but at him. “Why?”

“Because I’m ending the game.”

“What game?” I can’t tell what’s gotten into him. He tears me up inside, my rules disappearing along with my self-control.

“The one we both already lost. Fuck ignoring how we feel because we’re both too chickenshit to do anything about it.”

Does he like me for real? Or is it only about something physical?

“What kind of feelings?” I leave things open-ended, despite how my brain begs to ask a different question.

“The ones that make me want to rip that dress off you and fuck you with your sparkly sneakers wrapped around my waist. I want them pressed against my ass while I come inside of you, your fingers clawing at my back because you can’t get enough.”

So, the physical kind of feelings. Got it. I can’t deny how my heart squeezes, awareness flooding me about how Liam wants nothing past our friendship and fuckship.

I pretend his words don’t bother me. “You’re only horny after not getting with anyone for months.”

“You’re shit at trying to ignore my advances. I’d almost believe you were unphased if you didn’t squeeze your legs every time I flirted with you.”

My cheeks flame. Cheeky bastard, this one.

A new voice breaks our staring contest. “Oh look. Liam and a new tart.”

I’m going to use context clues and guess that I’m the tart. My lips purse at the shrill voice ringing across the table, a British accent lacking the usual allure.

Liam’s body goes ramrod straight in his chair. Gone is flirty Liam, replaced by stormy eyes and a clenched jaw. It’s a much scarier version of himself.

“This tart’s name is Sophie. Nice to meet you.” I put my hand out, but it remains in the air unshaken. Liam pulls my hand away and holds on to it.

“Claudia.” She leers at me.

I strangely feel like the other woman based on how she treats me. Claudia looks beautiful, but her scowl and rough personality make her unattractive to me. She’s all long legs with pale skin, dark hair, and sharp cheekbones.

“What do you want?” Liam’s voice sends a chill across my skin. He puts a possessive hand on my thigh, drawing Claudia’s eyes to them. His thumb traces slow circles across my skin, a calming gesture I desperately need once Claudia sits in a chair next to me.

“Oh, Liam. I thought we were giving up on these games.” She lazily assesses me. It doesn’t make me feel too great to be honest, not that I’m the one to put myself down, but damn her intimidating stare unnerves me. Screw her for making me feel less than. But she looks like she walks runways on the weekends so it’s no wonder why Liam had a thing for her.

“There are no games. We’re over.” Liam’s hand continues its slow torture on my leg.

Claudia taps her heel against the marble floor. “And you think being with someone like her is really going to improve your chances at a McCoy contract? Think about your future. Do you really want to be a has-been driver with only two World Championship wins?” She looks at me the same way I check out a salad.

“Why don’t you leave the contract deals to those who actually work for a living.” Liam squeezes my leg reassuringly.

“It’s hard to not offer a word of advice.”

“Yet I didn’t remember asking. Next time I need some help, I’ll be sure to ask someone who can reference something other than People Magazine as their reliable source of information.”

I fidget in my seat, beyond uncomfortable by their exchange and the toxicity throwing off my positive vibes. No champagne buzz can cure this.

“For someone keen on not ending up in another magazine, you sure are okay with tempting tabloids to talk about you and the daughter of Bandini’s team principal. How interesting. That sure is one way to secure a contract, I’ll give you that.” Her lips purse together like she ate a lemon.

Her assumptions can’t be further from the truth. I take a deep breath, pissed about sitting next to this manipulative woman who looks at me like I have the personality of a houseplant.

A wave of possessiveness controls me. “Are you usually this much of a bitch? If Liam and I fuck around, it’s none of your business. Quit acting like a sad cliché because the scorned woman desperately clinging to a man storyline is overused. Feel free to leave whenever you want; this conversation is a bit dull.”

Liam’s wide eyes make me worry I went too far. My heart pumps fast, the rhythm drumming in my chest while my emotions run amuck inside of me. If I wasn’t a classy lady, I’d shift my weight from foot to foot with my fists up, ready to pounce. Verbal sparring will have to do for now.

“Liam may not want my advice, but I’ll give you a piece of my mind anyway.” She pats my arm like she has the sweetest intentions. Her touch makes me frown, fighting back the urge to shake her off. “This man uses women until they have nothing left to give. Then he’ll disregard you like you mean nothing. He did it to me, and he’ll do it to you. You know how many women he’s played with? He’s not like Noah, who sleeps around. No, Liam is the worst kind of guy who fucks around with you until you think he wants you back. That is, until you aren’t convenient anymore.” Mary freaking Poppins glares at me.

“Enough, Claudia. You’re embarrassing yourself, acting like we were anything more than a casual fuck. Get over it. God knows I have.” Liam doesn’t give us a chance to engage in another back and forth. He grabs my hand and pulls me away from the Wicked Witch of Racing.