Revved (31 page)

Resting his hand on the small of my back, he guides me out of the bar.

And I don’t look back once.

“
OH MY GOD
! I couldn’t believe it when that guy got up on the bar and started to strip!” Petra laughs as we stumble out of the taxi.

“That was crazy!” I laugh. “But he definitely had the body to strip.”

“Right?” Petra grins at me, flashing her eyes.

It’s two a.m., and we’re just getting back from the party that Leandro took us to.

When we arrived there, we met up with Leandro’s mechanics. They were all great guys. Petra and I had such a good time. And Leandro was awesome. I had such a laugh with him. The guy is hilarious. He kept telling me jokes and cracking me up. And you know, I didn’t once think about how hard today had been for me. Or about Carrick. And contrary to what Carrick had said, Leandro didn’t hit on me once. He was a true gentleman.

He did however give me his number and asked me to call him.

I might, but just as friends, and nothing more. He’s hot and fun, but it just wouldn’t be a good idea.

It was just nice to be out having fun and not think about my Carrick woes.

But now, I’m back at the hotel, knowing Carrick’s here somewhere with Sienna, probably in bed.

Ugh. God.

So, yeah, I’m back to torturing myself by thinking about him again.

Will this ever end? I just wish I could scrub my feelings for him away, so I’d be free of feeling this way.

I think I just need some distance, and I’m hoping I’ll get that in Canada. Sure, Carrick will be there, but he’ll be busy training. I’ll have time to get my head straight.

Petra and I stumble in through the deserted lobby, giving a cheeky wave to the night desk manager when he greets us.

I let out a big yawn, more than ready to fall into my bed and pull a pillow over my head, when Petra comes to a sudden standstill.

“Andi…” she murmurs low.

“Hmm?”

“Carrick’s over there in the bar.”

I raise my eyes to find him sitting at the hotel bar, a glass of amber liquid in his hand, held midair. His eyes are fixed firmly on me. His hair is all ruffled up, like he’s been driving his hand through it all night. He’s still in his tux. Well, the jacket is gone, and his shirtsleeves are rolled up, but he still looks as handsome as ever. But what is holding my attention is his expression. He looks lost and angry and relieved all at the same time. It’s one hell of a combination.

Blood whooshes to my ears with the sudden pounding of my heart, and I find myself instantly feeling sober.

“Go talk to him,” Petra urges.

“Why?”

She gives me a look. “Because he’s clearly waiting on you.”

My forehead creases in confusion. I don’t see what’s so clear about that.

“I highly doubt it,” I mutter.

“Jesus, Andi, you’re the dumbest, smartest person I’ve ever met. Just go talk to him.” She gives me a little shove in his direction. “I’ll see you upstairs.” Leaving me, she heads for the elevator.

I take a deep breath. Then, on unsteady legs, I walk toward Carrick.

His eyes stay trained on me the whole time, making me feel exposed and vulnerable, so I wrap my arms around my chest in attempt to shield myself from him.

As I get closer, I hear the soft sound of the Arctic Monkeys’ “Do I Wanna Know?” playing. Coming to a stop at the end of the bar, a few feet from where Carrick is sitting, I see the music is coming from his phone, which is on the bar in front of him, next to a half-empty bottle of Jameson.

The bar is empty aside from us, and the bar itself looks to be closed, yet Carrick is sitting here, drinking.

I guess you can do whatever you want when you’re Carrick Ryan.

“Hi,” I say softly.

He silences the music on his phone. “Hi.” He lets out a long breath. “So, did you have a good night?” His tone is harsh and off, and it instantly gets my back up.

In turn, it makes me answer a little too enthusiastically, “I did. It was brilliant. I had a lot of fun.”

I see a muscle twitch in his jaw. Bringing the glass to his lips, he takes a long drink.

I know my response annoyed him, and instead of making me feel better, it just makes me feel crappy.

“Did you just get back?” I ask, leaning against the bar. I put my clutch on it. Laying my arms on the cool marble, I clasp my hands together.

“No,” he answers tightly. “I got back a few hours ago.”

“What are you doing down here on your own? Can’t you sleep?”

“Something like that.” He drains his glass and immediately fills it back up.

Stilling, I tilt my head to the side, studying him carefully.

Carrick likes to drink as much as the next person, but I’ve never seen him drink like this before. He’s downing Jameson like it’s water.

It’s obvious that he’s angry about something, and I’m getting it loud and clear that, that something is me. He’s pissed off about me leaving with Leandro earlier.

I should feel angry with him for acting this way because he has no right to be mad, but I’m not. I’m just saddened by it.

I hate that we’re still here, still fighting. I just want us to be okay.

“Carrick…are you okay?” I make sure to keep my voice soft, gentle.

“I’m just fucking peachy.”

Okay…

I run a hand through my hair and take a calming breath. “Look, I know you’re angry with me, and I’m guessing it’s because I went to that party with Leandro.”

Fiery eyes meet mine. I notice how bloodshot they are, how tired he looks.

“I don’t know, Andressa. Is that what this is about? Is there something I should be pissed off about? Please do tell me. Because I’m just fucking dying to hear all about your brilliant night with Silva.”

Aargh!

Anger explodes in me to catatonic levels. He’s been spoiling for a fight from the moment I got here. Well, now, he’s going to get one.

“What the hell is wrong with you? You’re throwing a tantrum because I went to a party with one of your racing rivals! Is that it?”

“I’m not throwing a tantrum. I’m pissed off because I warned—” He cuts off.

“You what?” I take a step around the bar toward him. “Warned Leandro off me. Yeah, I know. He told me.”

He flashes me a furious look. “Silva’s a fucking prick who needs to learn to keep his mouth shut.”

“
‘Silva’s a fucking prick.’
God! Do you hear yourself? You sound like a child! The only prick around here is you! Warning him off me. What are we? In school? You had no right to do that!”

He swivels his stool around to face me, his feet hitting the floor. His eyes are wide and livid. “I had every right! Just the same right I had when I asked you not to go to that fucking party with him, but you still went! Were you doing it to piss me off? Because if you were, then it fucking worked!” he roars that last part at me.

It takes me back a step, and I falter for a moment. Then, my gloves go straight back on. “I went because I can! I’m free to do as I please! I don’t have to answer to you! I’m not yours!”

I barely get the chance to register what’s happening before he rushes me. Gripping me by the back of my head, fingers tangled in my hair, he slams his lips down on mine, hard.

There’s only a millisecond of hesitation before I kiss him back. A moan of pleasure works its way up my throat as our tongues touch then tangle together. I can taste the whiskey on him, feel the absolute desperation of his kiss, and it sends me spiraling, switching on a light inside of me that I’m not sure I can turn off. Or if I even want to.

But I have to because he’s with someone else.

God, what am I doing? This isn’t who I am. I don’t do things like this.

I shove him away, using all my might. Stumbling backward, breathing heavily, I press the back of my hand to my lips. I can still feel him there.

“I can’t believe you just did that,” I whisper, hating myself for letting it happen…for how much I wanted it—him.

“It needed doing. You needed to be kissed by me as much as I needed to kiss you. Still fucking do.” The predatory look in his eyes ignites and enrages me.

“I’m not sure your girlfriend would agree,” I bite back.

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

“No? Well, that’s not what she tells anyone who’ll listen, and she’s here, sleeping in your bed, so I’d say she’s as close to being your girlfriend as it gets!”

He squeezes his eyes shut, his jaw clenched with obvious annoyance. “I’ll say this one more fucking time. She is not my girlfriend.” His eyes flick open, and he pins me with his stare. “Never was, and whatever the fuck she was before, she isn’t anymore because I ended it.”

Oh.

That takes me back a step. “You ended it? Why?”

Sighing, he looks to the floor. When he looks back up, I meet his eyes and see the blatant unease in them.

“Because of you.”

My heart putters to a stop.

“Me?”

“Yes…you.” The way he’s looking at me, the softness in his eyes, is touching me like a warm caress.

“Sienna was a mistake that had gone on for long enough, and I realized that tonight in La Rascasse…when you said what you said about her being here.”

Fucking oh!

I know where he’s going to go with this, so I try to distract him away from what he’s going to say because I can’t go there with him right now.

“Is Sienna okay?”

He raises a brow. He knows I couldn’t give two shits whether she’s okay or not. But still he answers, “I’m sure she’s fine. It’s not like she actually gives a shit about me. All Sienna wanted me for was what I represent, what I could give her—visibility outside of the UK. She’s more upset at losing that than me.”

How can he even think that? How could anyone have Carrick and recover from losing him?
It’s not possible.

I know I couldn’t—hence, the reason I find myself in the position I’m in.

I take a step back to him. “Are you okay?”

His eyes lift, holding mine. “No. But not for the reason you’re thinking.”

“And what reason am I thinking?” My voice is jumpy, all over the place. Just like my mind.

“That I’m down here, drowning my sorrows over Sienna. But you’re wrong. I couldn’t give a shit about her. I was just using her as much as she was using me.” He drives a hand through his hair, disharmony pulling down his gaze. “I stayed down here because I needed to see you. I needed to know that you came back, that you didn’t go with him to his…hotel.”

He looks like he’s in pain, and I feel it like it’s my own.

“You know I wouldn’t do that,” I say softly.

His eyes lift, searing into mine. “Just the thought of him even touching you…” His hand goes to the back of his head, pulling on his hair.

“Nothing happened, Carrick. We partied. He gave me his number and asked me to call him, but that’s it.”

His brows pull together, uneasiness lining his face. “And…are you going to call him?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

I take another small step toward him. It’s like I’m being pulled to him on an invisible thread. “Because I don’t want him.”

The agony disappears from his eyes as a heat enters them. “Who do you want, Andressa?”

You.

Panic swallows up my words. “Carrick…I…”

The air between us is too thick, too much, and I can’t breathe properly. I’m so confused. I know what’s right, what I should say, but I can’t seem to find the will to do what’s right.

All I can see is him.

He clouds my vision, like steam on a mirror, and no matter how much I clear it away, he still comes back.

Reaching out, he wraps his hand around my wrist, pulling me to him, and I let him.

He presses his forehead to mine, cupping my cheeks in his palms, and I feel a sense of peace that I haven’t felt since Barcelona.

“Right before you left the bar with Silva, what you said about not wanting Sienna here, I knew right then that I’d fucked up.” He strokes my cheek with his thumb. “You were just so unaffected in Barcelona. When you stood there and told me that it was just a one-time thing, I believed you, and it hurt like a bitch. I wanted you to think that I didn’t care, too. So, I let her come here because I wanted you to think I was past it, past you…but I’m not.”