As the music pumps through the speakers, vibrating through my chest, and I’m sure through every inch of her luscious body, the more my mind takes a turn to the left and veers off protectiveness and toward possessiveness. Every man’s gaze lands on the girls. Their watchful, lust-filled eyes are on the woman I want.
The thought hits me right in the chest. I’ve not had such a strong reaction to a woman before. She’s exquisite. Her tanned skin, along with those full, pouty lips, lures me in as she twists and twirls. I can’t drag my gaze away from her when she sings along to the song. But then she turns my way, and her eyes widen when she realizes I’m watching her.
The corner of my mouth tilts upward, offering her a smirk of knowing as her mouth opens and closes. Shock is clear in her expression. She probably wasn’t expecting me to be here. I didn’t think I’d be out drinking today, but after our interaction, I needed to let off steam.
As the song comes to an end, I’m on my feet, moving toward her before I have time to rethink it. I can feel Curtis’s eyes on me. There’s no doubt he’s enjoying watching me.
“What the hell are you doing?” I ask as the next song starts, and the deep bass vibrates through me. I recognize the lyrics of “My Angel” by Prince Royce. Immediately, I pull her into my arms and move along with her.
“What the hell are you doing?” she mimics my question with a sly grin curling her perfect lips.
“I’m dancing with you,” I tell her nonchalantly, but I’m far from calm. My body is raging with need and fury at this beauty who’s drawn me into her orbit.
“I don’t … I can’t do this,” she tells me, but moves anyway. I twirl her around, our bodies colliding when she spins back toward me, and I’m engulfed by her perfume, which reminds me of the hot cinnamon coffee my mother used to make when I was younger.
“Why?” I hold onto her. I don’t want to let her go, but even though I know this is a bad idea, I can’t stop myself from wanting her.
“Because this isn’t how it’s supposed to go.” Her admission has me stilling all movement. Dropping my hands, I reach one out, grabbing her wrist just like I did earlier today, and pulling her toward the exit. She’s so tiny, her body moves with mine out into the balmy night with the music disappearing behind us.
We stop along the outside of the bar, and I spin on my heel to finally face her. “How is it supposed to go?” My question is laced with frustration. It feels like every time I’m around her, that emotion is prevalent in my thoughts.
“I’m not the type of girl you should be with or even consider,” she tells me after a long moment. The sadness that inflects her voice makes my body shudder with anger. What the fuck is she talking about?
“I don’t understand what you mean. How can you say that?”
“I’m not … I’m not perfect. Or beautiful like the groupies who follow racers around,” she tells me earnestly. There’s so much agony in her tone I want to wrap her in my arms and never let her go. She’s probably only about five two with curves for miles, which only makes me want her more.
But it’s not only her looks that have me caught. It’s her personality. “Tell me about you,” I request. “I want to know who you are. The girl under the cold façade. Because I have a feeling that this wall you’ve put up is nothing more than a shield.”
“I can’t do this, Kayden,” she admits. “I’m … My focus is on my career. Racing is my life, and I need to make my father proud.” Her words slice me right through my chest. I’ve spent my life trying to make my father proud. When he told me he wanted me to take over the company, I refused. I had to choose, but racing was always going to be my love, my passion. And he knew it.
“I know how that feels,” I admit, lifting my hand to cup her face. The smooth skin under my fingertips tingle from the contact, and I slowly swipe my thumb over the apple of her cheek.
Haelee tips her head to the side, her eyes holding questions I don’t want to answer, but the one she does throw out there is, “How?”
“I’m not just some playboy racer,” I inform her, offering a small smile to lighten the heat between us. “I’ve … I’ve been hurt and broken before. I’ve also made sure the focus of my life has been my racing. My father …” I allow my words to taper off. This isn’t the place for a conversation like this. “Come with me,” I say instead, hoping she doesn’t refuse me.