A SECOND CHANCE MAY BE TOO HOT TO HANDLE
They say there are no second chances, and for Lily Onassis, ever since she walked away from Formula World driver Max Becker, she's considered this true. Instead of a glitzy, glamorous life on the auto racing...
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LILY
Inside the suite I slip off my shoes, rinse my mouth out with mouthwash, and brush my hair. Or maybe I should keep the shoes on. They're strappy and black, and about four inches high. Super sexy. Nah, my feet feel much better without them.
It's been all of five minutes and there's a soft knock at the door.
I all but dash to the door and fling it open. Max tumbles in, reaching for me. We're both laughing as we kiss. When our teeth clash, we break apart, grinning.
"What are you laughing about?" I say while he gently bites my chin.
"I'm happy. That's all. Happier than I've been in a long time. Why are you laughing?"
I wrap my arms around him and we hug tight. "Someone in the elevator called you proficient."
He pulls back and looks at me with a mock shocked face. "I am very proficient on the track."
I shake my head. "I know you are, silly. But I was thinking about you being proficient in other things."
He reaches for me and trails kisses on my neck, making me whimper aloud. "You question my proficiency in bed?"
"I'm aware you are quite proficient there, as well," I tease, going to unbutton his shirt. "But I do remember when you used to strum my clit like you were toggling a Nintendo console button."
He tips his head back and chortles. "Oh God, I did, didn't I?"
I undo a second button and lean up to kiss him. "You did."
"But you taught me exactly what to do."
I snicker triumphantly.
"And I'd like to think I've picked up a few tricks—" his voice stops abruptly and his expression falls. I cease unbuttoning his shirt. "Sorry."
"What?" I look into his eyes, which are filled with regret.
"That was a shitty thing to say, I shouldn't talk about that with you. My past. Or the time between when we were together and now."
I take his hand and lead him to the sofa, pulling him to sit next to me. "I'm not jealous."
"You're not?"
I tilt my head. "I mean, I don't like to think about you being with another woman. Or women. But I also knew it was going to happen, and I understand. Temptation is difficult to avoid in this sport. I'm not naturally a jealous person."
His nostrils flare. "But I am. I'm jealous of the men you've been with. I'd hear or read about you being with a guy and I'd get pissed. I'd be annoyed for days. Like when you were with that tech guy, the one with the bad hair. I saw you in Vanity Fair, while I was on a plane."
Which tech guy with the bad hair, there were so many, I almost say, but don't. For some reason, his reaction shocks me, and I open my eyes wide and blink.
