Reserved the pitstop ser.., p.16
Reserved (The Pitstop Series Book 6), page 16
“Nevaeh, I don’t say this to people often, but I fucking adore you,” Val says with a smile. “If the four of us band together, I think we could kick everyone’s ass for speaking badly about people who don’t deserve it,” she goes on. “We could call ourselves The Revengers,” she says and giggles at her joke.
“What, like in Thor: Ragnarok?” I ask with a laugh, and she grabs my arm, pure delight filling her features.
“You got that reference?” I nod, smiling at her excitement. “You’re a dangerous woman, Nevaeh. I might grow attached,” she says, trying to keep her tone light, but I feel the heaviness of her words deep in my gut.
Valentina doesn’t easily let people in, so I wonder why she’d give me a chance. Why I’m the lucky chosen one.
“Come on, let’s dance,” Scarlette says when a popular song I’ve heard a million times on the radio starts filling the club.
Val and Scarlette pull me toward the dance floor, both of them dancing a second later. I’m a bit clumsier at first, not as confident as the other two women, but they make me feel so comfortable, I’m swinging my hips before I know it.
We’re at a normal type of club. Lights dimmed, neon lights flashing around us with the beat of the music, and alcohol in the air. The difference between this club and others I’ve been to is that the floors aren’t sticky, men aren’t trying to grope me or slap my ass every chance they get, and it’s not nearly as crowded.
The respectful distance others keep is probably also due to the dozen security personnel I have already spotted around us.
Time passes in a blissful breeze. I’m dancing, having a few drinks, and laughing more than I have in a while. Carefree doesn’t begin to cover how I’m feeling, but I’m enjoying myself immensely.
Val outdances me in those heels of hers. She moves like she was born to dance, something Gabriel clearly agrees with because he makes it all of thirty seconds after we started dancing before he joins us, one of his hands on her hip and the other holding a bottle of water he keeps handing her. My friend revels in his touch, his attention, but doesn’t hesitate to shoo him away when she wants to dance with me for a song. He welcomes her back every single time she presses up against him again, kissing her cheek, temple, the crown of her head, or her neck.
It’s incredibly sweet.
A warm, solid body appears behind me, close enough so the heat radiates off him, but far away enough to give me space. His scent fills my nose, and I almost hum happily.
“I wanna put my hands on you, Nevaeh. Nod if you’re okay with that,” Adrian whispers after he leans down to bring his lips to my ear. His breath is hot and sweet on my skin, sending a wave of shivers down my spine.
I nod before my brain can catch up, but when I look around, I see we’re crowded enough to keep people from noticing us. This is a Formula One event, which means people aren’t as starstruck by the F1 drivers and watching their every move.
His hands slip onto my hips, spinning me around so I’m facing him. My arms lift to wrap around his neck of their own volition, but I don’t stop them. My head is floating from joy, and having Adrian Romana in front of me, sliding his hands onto my back and resting them right above my ass, has my body vibrating with need and contentment.
I want him.
Wanted him since I first laid eyes on him, and I hate that I have to keep putting distance between us. What I hate even more is that I know, even if I didn’t put it between us, Adrian would. He doesn’t date, and I won’t change that.
Right now, I can’t bring myself to care.
Chapter 28
Adrian
Nevaeh’s soft body is pressed against mine, her heated skin all over me in that dress that almost brought me to my fucking knees earlier.
Never in my entire life has a woman in a dress made me want to rip all my barriers down. Until Nevaeh stepped into this club in that orange dress, her curves getting hugged by the fabric in ways that made me jealous of the piece of clothing for getting to touch her like that.
Jealous of a piece of fucking clothing.
First of all, I don’t get jealous. Ever.
Second of all, how do you even get jealous of clothing?
I’m being ridiculous. Nevaeh is just a woman, and no matter how much I like dropping to my knees for them and making them scream my name in pleasure, she’s just a woman. I will get over this fascination.
You all agree with me on this, right?
“You know, when a woman is showing off her best moves to impress you, it’s impolite to let your mind drift somewhere else,” she says with a little laugh, and I bring my gaze down to hers.
A smile tugs at the corner of my mouth when I spot the smirk on her face.
“Trust me, my thoughts may have drifted, mon ange, but you were still the center of my attention,” I admit, spinning her around once before bringing her back to my chest.
She grinds against me without hesitation, following the rhythm of the music with grace. Her arms fly backward so her fingers can run through my curls. My hands slip over her stomach and down her thick thighs, making her quiver in my arms.
My cock hardens in an instant.
And the beautiful tease in my hands doesn’t seem to have a clue what she’s doing to me.
A small voice in the back of my mind reminds me we shouldn’t be doing this, shouldn’t be touching so openly, but all of the fucks I could have given were ground to dust when she started grinding her ass against my cock.
“Careful, Nevaeh, my self-control is slipping away,” I mumble into her ear. Her upper body starts shaking with a laugh, and she steps away from me before I have a chance to truly enjoy it.
She spins around and takes one more step away.
“We wouldn’t want that, would we?” she replies with a smile before moving toward Scarlette and Valentina and leaving me to subtly readjust myself.
“Tripping all over yourself already?” my best friend asks as he approaches me, a beer in his hand.
We move to the side of the dance floor and out of the way.
“I’m not tripping all over myself.” James’ eyes drop to my crotch before he lifts them again to smile at me. “I’m horny. There’s a difference,” I say, realizing with horror that it’s been almost five months since I fucked anyone.
Five.
Fucking.
Months.
I raise my palm to my forehead to check if I have a fever because the only reason it would be this long since I’ve had sex is if I’m sick with the longest flu in the history of mankind.
“How long has it been? A few hours?” James teases, and I let out a small laugh that soon turns into a humorless sound while I question my entire fucking existence.
“Yeah, a few hours.” It’s a bold lie, one he sees through as he steps in front of me to scan my face.
“Oh my God, how long has it really been?” he asks, sipping his beer as he waits for my answer.
I pull my lips into a thin line, avoiding his inquiring gaze until he slaps my chest.
“Tell me,” he insists. I shake my head.
“A week.”
“Liar. There’s genuine panic in your eyes. It’s been longer.” I hate that smug look on his face.
“Fine, it’s been two weeks. Now, can you leave me alone?” James places his bottle on the table beside us, laughing.
“Just tell me the truth. You’re a horrible liar.”
“No.” I grind my teeth.
“Just say it,” he says and laughs again.
“No.”
“I’m just going to keep asking. Might as well—” I cut him off.
“Five months!” His jaw drops dramatically at my admission.
“You haven’t fucked anyone in five months?” he asks like we weren’t just talking about it. I give him a strained nod. “Shit, are you feeling alright?” James says next, raising the back of his hand to my forehead.
I smack it away before he can touch me.
“I’m fine, just off my game apparently,” I reply, my eyes drifting to where mon ange is dancing with my sister.
“Something happened five months ago… remind me again what it was. That event that had you talking about a very specific woman and wanting to see her again,” he says with a smug smirk, tapping his chin like he’s thinking really hard about it.
Jerk.
“I met Nevaeh. Okay?” I say, taking a step toward him. I’m only slightly taller than him, but he’s wider than me, which is irritating when I’m trying to look intimidating. “I met Nevaeh, laid my eyes on her one fucking time, and now the only woman I want to touch is her. I don’t want to look at other women, and I sure as fuck don’t want them to touch me, not when my skin only buzzes from excitement from Nevaeh’s touch. There. Are you happy now?” I ask, breathing heavily after my rant.
I feel like sitting down. This admission doesn’t just catch my best friend off-guard. It has more panic washing through me.
I don’t want other women to touch me.
I don’t want to touch other women.
I haven’t had sex with anyone since I met Nevaeh.
I’m definitely going to be sick.
My head is spinning, trying to process all of this information even though it goes against my nature. I don’t get into relationships. I don’t date. I especially don’t pursue women who are off-limits because it’s way too complicated.
Why the hell does none of this apply to Nevaeh?
James pokes me in the forehead, forcing me back into the moment.
“What the hell was that for?” I ask, rubbing the sore spot.
“Just making sure you’re real,” he replies and picks up his beer again, taking a sip before he stares down at his phone. A picture of his son and him lights up the screen, and I watch his eyes soften.
“Adrian Romana?” Oh no.
“Melanie Whitehall,” I reply, forcing a smile. The short woman with black hair and clear blue eyes steps in front of me,
“How are you?” she asks, placing a kiss on each of my cheeks. I meet her halfway, hating the fact that my body fights me even more than it usually does.
Melanie is a very nice woman. Smart as hell, too. The problem is, we slept together two years ago, and then her father decided to invest in my team. This means, as much as I would like to avoid her to prevent complications, I see her a lot during race weekends. And I don’t think she’s entirely over me yet.
And no, I know what you’re thinking. This isn’t me being my typical ‘everyone wants me’ version. This is just because she keeps making advances.
“I’m good. How are you?” I say, my eyes drifting to where Nevaeh, Val, and Scarlette have moved to, off the dance floor and closer to where I’m standing. Gabriel is with them, and Leonard and Chiara have rejoined them as well. I want to be over there. I want to drape an arm around Nevaeh and hug her against my side so she can wrap her arms around me. I don’t want to talk to Melanie.
“I’ve missed you, handsome. Any chance you’ll let me buy you a drink?” she asks, running a hand down my chest.
Alarm bells go off in my head. A humorless laugh escapes me because I’ve never not enjoyed flirting with a woman I am or was attracted to.
This is new territory.
“No, but thank you for offering,” I reply. I reach for her wrist to gently remove her hand at the same moment someone clears their throat from behind Melanie.
My eyes drift to Nevaeh’s forced smile, sending more panic through me.
Fuck, shit!
“Nevaeh—” I start, but she cuts me off.
“I’m going to head back to my hotel. Congratulations again on the win,” she says. I step around Melanie to get to the woman I want to be around as much as I can.
My hands reach for her, but she makes her way to the exit before I have a chance to tell her that I really didn’t want Melanie to touch me. That I only want her. There is no way she heard how I turned down Melanie’s offer. It’s too loud in here, so all she saw was another woman touching me and me smiling politely. Goddammit. I have to tell her she’s the only person allowed to put her hands on me. Something I can’t fucking do because it’s not fair of me to tell her all of these things when we can’t be together. In any capacity. Because of her job and my lack of faith in relationships.
“Nevaeh, please,” I beg as I chase after her. I sprint in front of her, almost making her run into me.
“Thank you for this weekend and for tonight. I’m happy for you. You drove amazing, and I can’t wait to write this article. I’ll send it to you once I’m finished so you can approve it,” she adds, so I raise an eyebrow in response.
“Don’t be nice to me, not when you want to kick me.” My words bring a real smile to her face.
“I don’t want to kick you, Adrian. You deserve to celebrate, so go, celebrate with her. It looks like she desperately wants you to,” she says.
I take a step toward her, making her pull her lips into a thin line.
“Better not make her wait,” Nevaeh adds and steps around me, leaving me to sputter nonsense after her, all of my reasons for why I’m not going to go celebrate with Melanie, but she saw what she wanted to see, and I don’t think there’s a way to convince her to stay without saying all of the things I’m not supposed to.
Kiss me.
Celebrate with me.
Stay with me.
Let’s fuck away all of our frustration.
So, instead, I lean down to press the swiftest kiss on her cheek.
“Call me.”
I stare after her as she leaves without making any promises of calling me. My eyes drift back to Melanie, and I hate that I resent her a little for making Nevaeh think something that isn’t true.
All I can hope is that Nevaeh doesn’t care who I do or do not sleep with, but I have a feeling she does, and that I just really fucked things up by saying nothing.
Chapter 29
Nevaeh
My hands are sweating as Mrs. Lu’s secretary opens the door to my boss’s office, the usual frown on his face as he does so. I’ve barely slept since I got back home yesterday, which is why a yawn slips past my lips before I can stop it. It doesn’t go past Mrs. Lu, nor does it go past Ms. Martin, who raises an amused brow.
“I heard you went out with the drivers. Overdid it?” she jokes, and I wish that was the reason for me being sleep-deprived.
“No, I was working on my article for this weekend,” I lie to hide what the hell I was actually doing. Thinking about Adrian and the woman I saw him with. Picturing them together all sweaty and naked. Wondering for the millionth time why Adrian Romana has to be the one to stay in my head when he shouldn’t even be there in the first place.
“Come, sit. I understand from your email that you’d like to talk about the events of the race weekend,” Mrs. Lu says, and I obey, crossing my legs but leaning toward her before speaking.
“Yes, I hope that’s alright.” Mrs. Lu sits back in her chair and extends her hand, gesturing for me to go ahead while Ms. Martin keeps working on whatever it is that a COO does.
The smile on Mrs. Lu’s face makes me feel better about what I have to do.
“I really appreciate the job you have given me, and Gillian is a great boss, but I don’t think I’m a good addition to his team,” I start, hating myself for having to look like the ass here.
“Yes, Gillian has informed me about something similar. Lucky for you, I have eyes and ears everywhere. You will no longer be working for him, I won’t have it. You gave your all last weekend and ended up unwell because of poor leadership.”
My boss stands up, patting down her pencil skirt as she takes a few strides to get to her printer. Her fingers grab hold of a document which she hands me as she leans against her desk beside me. My eyes scan the paper, realizing this is the article I wrote on the plane yesterday and sent to her.
“You won’t be working for Gillian anymore. As a matter of fact, you won’t be working for anyone,” she says, and I feel my heart drop into my stomach.
This is it, this is where I get fired.
My anxiety makes a cold sweat break out across my skin. It doesn’t like failure. It usually makes my life more miserable if there is a possibility I could fail at something, whether it’s tests, interviews, or anything of the kind. Right now, it’s reminding me why it always shows itself during these situations.
To punish me for not being the best version of myself.
“Well, no one except Ms Martin and me, of course.” Relief knocks the breath out of me.
“I’m not sure I understand,” I reply, but Mrs. Lu’s warm smile calms my racing heart once more.
“I sent this article to all ten teams in Formula One yesterday. So far, most of them have responded with a request for you to write an article like this about their drivers. They are even paying more to have you take candid photos like you did with Adrian and the Velocità Rossa team,” she says.
Ms. Martin leans forward to chime in.
“This article is brilliant, Nevaeh. The emotion that spills from the pages with every word is phenomenal. So, we would like to offer you a deal,” she starts and tucks her graying hair behind her ear.
Mrs. Lu nods, clearly agreeing with her business partner.
“There are eighteen races left as well as nineteen drivers. Only sixteen have asked for articles like this, so we have a bit of wiggle room. Each race weekend, you will accompany a driver whenever they have time for you, which will most likely be less than with Mr. Romana because he took more time for you than he was supposed to,” Ms. Martin explains, and a smile creeps onto my face.
I loved writing that article about Adrian, and he sent me a text, assuring me he adored reading it. Getting to write more of them instead of working for Gillian, and taking more pictures, it all sounds like a dream.
