Page 34 of Formula Fling

I laugh, remembering my incredible lack of skill. “I did. Although I don’t think I hit a single target.”

“Yeah, well, you didn’t shoot anyone either, so we’ll rule it a win.” His smile is teasing, that familiar glint of mischief in his eyes that I’ve come to recognize as being an innate part of his personality.

I lean against the counter beside him. “Maeve said I was a natural, I’ll have you know. But she’s probably just being nice.”

“Maeve’s always nice,” he agrees with a chuckle. “She’s got that whole ‘perpetually happy Brit’ thing going on.”

I smile. “She taught me more British slang today. You have some funny words.”

“Oh yeah?” he says, raising an eyebrow, clearly interested. “Like what?”

“Well, apparentlygobsmackedmeans you’re totally shocked. Like, it’s supposed to knock you off your feet.”

“Gobsmacked, huh?” He rolls the word over his tongue like he’s testing it out, then leans in a little closer, his voice low. “Has anything ever gobsmacked you?”

The way he says it, all teasing and low, sends a shiver down my spine. I glance at him, trying to hide the flush creeping up my neck. “I’m not so easily shocked, Lex.”

He grins, that boyish flash of straight teeth that never fails to make my heart skip a beat. “I’ll take that as a challenge.”

“Oh, please.” I roll my eyes, pushing his shoulder playfully. “Maeve says you’re cheeky. Always up to no good. And yes,cheekyis another word I’ve learned you Brits say.”

He leans into the nudge, getting a little closer, his arm brushing against mine. “Guilty as charged. But you Americans have your own weird stuff. Like, what’s the deal withride or die? Sounds like a line from a bad action movie.”

“Hey, don’t knock it,” I say, laughing and shoving him again. “It’s loyalty. Means you’re with someone through thick and thin. You don’t have anything like that here?”

“We’ve got loyalty, sure,” he says, pretending to think about it. “But we’re a bit more subtle about it. We just say we’re mates.”

I shake my head, taking another sip of water. “Subtle, huh? You British and your understated ways. Yet you go and say things likecrikeyandblimey.”

He laughs, leaning in even closer. “Touché. But at least we don’t sayfanny pack. That’s just wrong. You know fanny is British slang for vagina, right?”

I burst out laughing. “Oh my God. I didn’t know that. Okay, I’ll give you that one.Fanny packis a disaster.”

It’s then I notice, through the playful banter and nudges, our shoulders are now touching. The atmosphere shifts slowly, giving way to something more intense, more charged.

My heart nearly explodes out of my chest when Lex reaches out and tugs lightly on a lock of my hair, his fingers brushing against my neck. “You’re cheeky too, you know that?”

Breath hitching from that touch, my pulse quickening, I whisper, “And you’re obnoxious.”

“Am I now?” His voice drops, eyes locked on mine as he tugs at my hair again, his hand lingering this time.

His eyes drop to my mouth and he leans in slowly, his breath warm against my cheek. I’m frozen in place, scared to move or breathe. I’m almost in a near panic at what this means and what might occur, but then somehow, amazingly, miraculously, his lips are on mine.

So soft and sure, and every thought I have melts away. Lex kisses me with a slow deliberation, and somehow it’s everything I didn’t know I wanted.

My hands find their way to his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as I lean into him. I’m kissing Lex Hamilton, one of the best formula racers in the world.

Super rich.

Hot as hell.

Wanted by women everywhere.

And he’s kissing me.

The surety of his mouth against mine anchors me. The kitchen, the day, everything else fades as the kiss deepens, his hand sliding to the back of my neck, pulling me closer.

Lex’s lips are gentle at first, almost testing, as if he’s waiting for me to pull away.

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