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RESISTING AN EYE ROLL, I watched as a leggy blonde with fake boobs and too much makeup eyed my friend like he was a piece of chicken fried steak smothered in gravy. “Oh, my God, Colton, just go get her. What are you waiting for?”
“And lose my edge standing next to the prettiest girl in the room? Not a chance.” Colton gave me a playful grin and leaned back on the hood of the electric-blue vintage racer at the room’s centerpiece. He was taking a hell of a long time getting over his breakup with Alyssa, and when he said things like that, it made me think he wasn’t even trying.
He seriously needed to get back in the game.
“That girl’s already undressed you with her eyes, loverboy. I can’t fathom what your problem is.” I mean, I could, of course, but why mention it?
He took a cautious sip from his gin and tonic. “I told you. I’m fine right here.”
Colton bristled a little at my comment, like a kid brother tired of being pestered by big sis, but he quickly smiled through it, his face flushing a bit with frustration. Colton had the sort of heart which ran very deeply into whatever connections he got tangled in. Nothing was casual for him where emotional relationships were concerned, and maybe that was what had scared Alyssa away after a while.
Some girls could handle a man who wasn’t afraid of commitment, and the promise of an enduring relationship with complete acceptance of flaws. But, the other camp of women wanted someone like Colton, where there was a high risk and danger of heartbreak. It made all the bad boys so appealing to their type.
I may have had a touch of that need for danger in myself, too, but I wasn’t the sort who wanted an asshole to try to claim me. With a father like I had, I fully expected the men in my life to be the dedicated sort. Men who had balls and courage in all areas of their lives.
Unfortunately, it was a tall order. I’d already had several run-ins with the wrong sorts of men who’d proved my theory correct that most bad boys were, indeed, assholes. Insecure boys inside, who were far too wounded to easily open themselves up to anything serious. Somehow, I’d made myself okay with that—for casual encounters, anyway.
No way would I pine for a man who wouldn’t do the same for me. I certainly wasn’t looking for a commitment from someone whose heart had stopped working long before he’d ever laid eyes on me. Maybe there was someone who could scratch my itch for a risk-taker. One who was in full command of his wild side. One whose heart wasn’t three sizes too small while his head was five sizes too big. I wasn’t holding my breath waiting for him, though.
Between Colton and my dad, I had all I needed in the way of positive reinforcement from men. Albeit, platonic relationships. Sure, I could always call Antonio when I wanted something hot and heavy with no-strings-attached. Admittedly, I usually felt a little empty afterward, but Antonio always treated me with respect, even if he had the attention span of a two-year-old where women were concerned.
Grinning to myself, I took another sip of the raspberry liqueur, my eyes slowly closing as it bloomed on my tongue. Perfection. Speed Liquor’s line wasn’t cheap—not by a longshot—but I certainly enjoyed sampling it at racing parties. Their stuff had the perfect blend of buzz and flavor. I opened my eyes and looked around the room, and had to bite back a laugh.
“Check out this asshole.” Nudging Colton with my elbow, I jutted my chin toward Jacques Raines, a racer obviously facing a midlife crisis of epic proportions. If he had been surrounded by any more whores, he’d have all the staff he needed to open a brothel. The overcompensation for his time off the track was fucking ridiculous.
Colton laughed. “I guess when you win the Grand Prix one year, and crash and burn the next, it does something to you.”
“Ya think?” I replied dryly.
Lifting an eyebrow, I leaned back, drawing another sip before elbowing Colton again. I cut my eyes toward a tall brunette eyeing him. “You've got another admirer.”
“Yeah?” he asked.
I frowned when Colton didn’t even lift his head to look at the girl I had pointed out. Alyssa really knew how to get her hooks into a guy, didn’t she? I seethed.
It pissed me off, frankly, but I didn’t want to keep reminding Colton of his little ex-skank by bitching about her. I figured I’d take the other approach and encourage him to get back out there instead.
At this point, the guy was having one too many Haagen Dazs nights on my couch, when, at twenty-six, he should be out there dating and enjoying how gorgeous he was. I just couldn’t see him letting that flake win like that. If Alyssa wasn’t ready for the best, it was certainly her loss, and one she’d realize sooner or later. There weren’t a lot of drivers like him who could probably do some modeling on the side. Hell, if there was ever a case for God showing off when he created someone, the product was leaning up on a premier race car to my left.
“What are you doing?” I asked, frowning.
Flicking a glance at me, Colton then quickly returned his attention to his phone screen. “Texting.”
“Who? We’re at the fucking pre-season party at the Dalton Mansion, for crying-out-loud.” I scowled. “Remember, the one you were so excited to come to? Put your phone away.”
He smiled down at his phone. “I will. Be back in a sec, all right?”
Oh, I knew that look a little too well.
The bitch was back.
Ever flexing her power, she was probably teetering on the fence between him and whomever she’d momentarily chosen over Colton. Or, she’d gotten burned and planned on having Colton lick her wounds for her. I would hate her even more if she broke his heart again.
Drawing another sip of raspberry, I forced the flames rising up in my gut back down into controlled and classy-land, and turned my attention to the rest of the party. I wasn’t about to let Alyssa fuck up my night, too. Colton was an adult and entitled to live his life as he saw fit. Even if it made me want to take a bottle to his ex’s head.
Lifting my drink for another savory sip, my breath caught in my throat as I met the eyes of Tyler Dalton, who was now standing right next to me.
I swallowed hard, unable to take the sip of liqueur that was paused at my lips. He was too gorgeous for his own good.
Yes, I knew his name. I’d seen him race a million times. But his pictures, videos, and presence from afar all paled in comparison to the incredible way he filled out his charcoal three-piece suit. I would shake his tailor’s hand for that if I ever got the chance.
Tyler Dalton dripped sex, money, and danger, and was a legend in his own right. It wasn’t just his body I was celebrating internally, though. He was literally freaking beautiful. Like runways in Paris beautiful. High, sculpted cheekbones like some sort of living version of an Adonis. Lips made for sucking and biting. Dark-brown hair that made a girl want to slide her fingers through, and crystal-blue eyes that penetrated to the depths of one’s soul.
I blinked incredulously as he just stood there, looking at me.
Say something, you idiot! I screamed inside.
He gave me a panty-dropping smile and pointed to my drink. “You’re not drinking the raspberry, are you? The apple’s so much better. Here, let me show you.”
Normally, I wouldn’t let a man take control like that, but Tyler Dalton was too charming to resist. He lifted the drink out of my hand and set it on a passing tray, where he picked up a wine flute brimming with Speed Liquor’s Green Apple Liqueur.
Tilting my head at him, I studied the insistent glimmer in his eyes before I dared to hazard a sip.
“You won’t regret it,” he encouraged with a sexy smile.
I didn’t think I would... Whatever he was truly implying.
I had a feeling the drink was sure to pale in comparison to the raw masculinity he could truly offer. I could see the invitation in his eyes, and it wasn’t just the encouragement for me to try a new flavor of his sponsor’s liqueur.
“I guess we’ll see,” I finally said, finding my voice.
“I wouldn’t steer you wrong,” he murmured, leaning in closer to me.
It was clear by his approach that he would draw everything out, enticing me some before he went in for the kill—and that was fine with me. I didn’t mind being the prey sometimes.
I liked a man who could temper his urges and take his time reeling me in. So many guys were juvenile in their approach, like overgrown schoolboys who’d barely learned their way around a woman, let alone graduated to being worthy of enjoying one with even the barest level of class.
I wasn’t sitting on a mountain of money, and I didn’t have the most traditional job or the body of a model, but I did have class, and I knew very well what I was worth to a man. I wasn’t content to give myself up to just anyone for the sake of a fumbling around for a few hours of fun, unless it was a prearranged thing we were both aware of. But faced with the level of refinement standing in front of me, I could feel myself reining back my extreme interest before it showed too easily on my face.
An aura of danger plumed the air around this man, and it was already weaving its way under my pebbling skin—even well before he’d earned it. Even if he was magnificent enough to win an access card without doing a thing to earn it outright. Tyler Dalton was scary beautiful, and I was going to play it as cool as I could with him.
For as long as I could.
Suppressing a groan as the apple liqueur slid across my tongue and warmed a trail of happy down my throat, I couldn’t help but grin. Okay, he’d won that one. It was definitely better than the raspberry.
“I told you,” he quipped, smiling again.