CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
HONEY
I didn’t know how to react to this information overload—first winning something very significant to my career, then finding out the man I really wanted to celebrate the moment with had gone with his ex-wife instead of staying by my side. Then said man was here again, telling me his ex-wife was gone and asking me for a dance like it was the most natural thing in the world—like nothing explosive or hurtful had happened between us: something I was still trying to get over.
But I couldn’t refuse him even if I wanted to, and the truth was…well, I didn’t want to. So I nodded and allowed him to pull me to the side, which was dimmer than the center. No one really noticed, because it was late and everyone was having a good time. Gavin’s hands went to my waist, an almost tentative touch. I could feel his expectation for me to pull away, but again, I couldn’t. My hands went to his shoulders, a light pat, and I looked up at him. My heels gave me the advantage to not crane my head too much—but it also had the disadvantage of being at eye level with Gavin, whose gaze was intense and brimming with heat.
The music was an upbeat tempo, some bass music that was back together.”
The words were so sudden that I froze. I gulped in a breath, trying to ignore the squeeze in my heart. It was none of my business. It was none of my—
“Are you?” I blurted out.
“No.”
Well. That was a pretty straightforward answer. But it didn’t mean anything other than that he was going to keep being my bodyguard, so I tried to be all cool and casual.
He beat me to it.
“I told her I wanted to be with someone else.”
I stopped moving. “Oh.”
“You,” he clarified. A deep rumble of a sigh came from him, and my stomach clenched. It was deep, and it sounded frustrated. “I’m really bad at this.”
Throat dry, I tried to speak. “Bad at what?” I expected some kind of apology because it looked like that was where he was headed. Probably an attempt to rekindle our friendship, or some want to get back together and resume our sexual relationship.
What came out of his mouth was the last thing I expected, and it had me reeling in shock.
“Saying I’m in love with you.”
I stopped moving immediately, staring at him and attempting to respond. But nothing came out. His hands tightened on my waist, and I could feel the heat of them through my clothes. And I ached.
I ached so badly, wanting nothing but to press my body against his. But nerves started wracking me, and it made me spout things I normally wouldn’t.
“Gavin, you’re probably confused.”
A confused expression flashed on his face at what I said. “About?”
“Confusing sex with love. Do you perhaps mean you want to have sex with me again?”
He didn’t speak for a long time, and at first, I thought he was offended. But his head suddenly leaned in, his mouth going close to my ear. “Honey, there’s nothing I want more than to get you away from here and taste every bit of skin I’m not seeing right now.”
My jaw went slack.
“I want my mouth on every inch of your skin, licking and tasting you. I want your breast on my tongue. I want your wetness in between my fingers, and I want my cock inside you. I want it all so badly, because I’m so horny for you, and it’s all I can think about.”
Lord.
The words made me dizzy, and so did the pictures that my imagination stirred up. I held on to him for support as my knees suddenly went weak, and I tried to breathe properly.
But he wasn’t done.
“But I’m not confusing anything, Honey. You’re the one I want, and I’m sorry for all the hurtful things I said before. They were mistakes, and seeing Tanya has made me see those mistakes.”
“Gavin,” I breathed out.
“I want to be with you, if you’ll let me.”
They were words I’d always wanted to hear, and now that I was hearing them, they stirred something deep inside me and had me losing control of my emotions.
But that was the problem. I was getting dazed by his words, and my head was muddled. I didn’t want to answer Gavin until I had a clear understanding of everything.
It was true he still stirred feelings in me, and it was true that I ached just from looking at him. But at what point could I say that I returned his feelings? Was it all a fluke? Was I just charmed by his words and confusing my feelings with lust?
Was it worth it?
Because I wasn’t sure yet, I removed my hands from his shoulders. Then I made the most difficult decision I had to make, even more difficult than getting into the racing world and risking everything—my family, my wealth and my old life.
I took a step back.
“I need time, Gavin. Can you give me time?”
There was only one expression on his face at my words, and it wasn’t disappointment. It was understanding.
“Of course.”
He stepped back, too. We looked at each other for a long time, gazes locking before it got to me and had me excusing myself. I slipped out of there, going to the restrooms’ hallway area and breathing for the first time since he touched me. I half-expected him to follow me out, to try to kiss me into succumbing to him as he was wont to do.
But no one followed, and I was alone.
I took comfort in that and tried to get my bearings.
Who was Gavin to me?
*****
As the winner of the 500, the race day wasn’t the only day that was going to be busy, and I already anticipated that. Sara, being the organized person that she was, already scheduled everything to make things smoother for me and give me proper time to rest. The first few days were filled with more press conferences, of which I had to talk over and over about my reaction and feelings to being the first female to win ever. I beamed until my cheeks hurt, talked until my throat got tired and ignored the sly questions that still popped up from time to time.
Then there were magazines courting me, wanting me to talk some more, and Sara and I screened them together and picked which contracts I was going to accept. Said magazines involved photo shoots, which ranged from wearing my racing uniform to some of the most outrageous outfits I’d ever seen. The latest one was a wheel-shaped balloon, and I had to stifle all the complaints as I got to the center of the magazine studio and forced myself to follow the photographer’s posing demands.
At the sidelines, I didn’t miss Gavin’s eyes on me, quietly observant. He looked like your typical bodyguard with his straight stance and his crossed arms, the plain white shirt emphasizing his arm muscles and his broad shoulders. I couldn’t help glancing at him from time to time—no, ogling him, because he was just too good to look at and the perfect distraction from yelling at the grumpy photographer. Gavin had new jeans on, which were whitewashed and tight-fitting and emphasized those trunk-like thighs and the bulge beneath his zipper—
“Miss York, are you paying attention?”
I blinked and zoned back in. “I’m sorry?”
The photographer, a curly-haired little thing that spit fire with his eyes, frowned. “I said arch your back and try to appear graceful.”
I inwardly sighed in exasperation and tried not to snap back that there was no way to look graceful in the abomination I was wearing. It was stifling hot, too. I tried to adjust it and almost stepped on it, all grace gone and the photographer looking like he wanted to snap my head off.
To make myself feel better, I glanced in the direction of the eye candy that was Gavin again, hoping to get a sneak peek.
Except it wasn’t a peek, because I found him looking at me again.
Our eyes met, and I thought I detected humor in his black gaze. My cheeks turned hot at getting caught because I really had been trying to be subtle. His mouth quirked, and…was he smirking at me?
I glared in his direction.
“Miss York! Can you stop flirting with your boyfriend and pose for me?”
Oh, my God.
My head whipped towards the photographer, who looked like he was torn between getting mad and crying.
“He’s not my boyfriend,” I blurted out.
Gavin stifled a laugh.
I glared at him again, then sobered up and turned to the photographer. “Sorry.”
Then I posed for all I was worth, hoping to placate him and get it over with.
That wasn’t the last photo shoot because more wanted interviews and face profiles. Gavin accompanied me in all of them, and his constant presence only intensified my desire for him—that want to jump him and just have my way with him, really. He always looked at me, that hot gaze burning me like fuel on a campfire.
But that wasn’t all.
There were little things, things that I started noticing in the long run—like how he would always bring me coffee during the interviews, and how he would slip in those tiny bags of healthy snacks when no one was looking, and everyone was too busy to eat. Or how he would help me ease my stress with just a pat on the back or a rub on the neck, or shoot me a look when it was time to fight back. It was constant support in tiny ways, and it made me realize how much I relied on him.
It became routine, but not the kind of routine that was boring.
And it made me realize things about him and things about me that I never really allowed myself to think before.
The thought of a future with a man who could read me like a book was scary—perhaps the scariest thing in my life, because it made me vulnerable to him. I always put racing first and dating second, and I’d never really been in love with anyone before. But this feeling I had for Gavin? It was so intense that sometimes I couldn’t even breathe because my heart ached so much.
And the thought of losing him? It hurt.
I wasn’t good at expressing emotions because I had hardened myself against it.
But I was going to give it a try with him and hope for the best.