Page 14 of Worth Every Game

I edge lower, my fingers passing over my clit, ignoring the jolt of energy that sparks through me. I shift my legs wider and slide my fingers down to my entrance, only to find it completely and utterly slick.

Not that I needed the confirmation, but the feel of wetness against my fingers is like a blast of inevitability I was hoping to escape.

I drag my fingers over my clit, which is throbbing like it wants me to notice. Wants me to do something about it. I’m breathing slowly, paying attention to all the tiny currents of need and desire flowing through me.

How much do I want to give in to this? To forever hold the knowledge that I brought myself to orgasm thinking of Kate’s brother?

It’s not a good idea, but I can’t stop images of Jack sliding through my mind. His wet shirt over his pecs, the bulge of bicep through damp fabric, the hard expression on his face as he drove. Those eyes, so intensely blue and framed by eyelashes so long and thick it’s unfair they belong to a man. And the dark scruff on his square jaw that my fingers practically begged to brush against.

My hand is absentmindedly gliding over my wet slit as the images slideshow in my mind. What if this is more than the song and the intimacy of performing for an audience of one?

What if I actuallylikeJack Lansen?

The memory of his words filters into my mind.I’d just wait for you to realise it was mutual.

I abruptly still my hand.Nope. Not happening.I am not letting my best friend’s brother become my latest fantasy, even if it is only for one night.

I get up and traipse down the hall to my bedroom, my slippers scuffing along the floor. I stare down at them. Massive pink fluffy puffballs.

“You bitches,” I mutter.

5

ELLY

I’ve thought about Jack a lot since our interaction last week. Not deliberately, but I’ve caught myself zoning out, only to realise a few minutes later that my thoughts have wandered to himagain. So when Kate asked me if I wanted to accompany her to watch rich men drive ridiculously expensive race cars around a track with the caveat, ‘you might find it boring, but I’m going to support Jack and I’d love you to come’, I had to rein in the urge that nearly blindsided me to yell, ‘Yes please, I’d love that. I’ve been secretly hoping to see your brother again’. Because watching men battle for dominance in luxury cars in the bitter cold is something I’d never have normally agreed to, and Kate would have known it.

I played it cool, allowing her to badger me into it, feigning reluctance at every step. But here I am, exactly where I wanted to be, on the side of a racetrack outside London. Kate grabs my arm and tugs me against her. “I’m so glad you came.”

I give her a tepid smile, still intent on concealing my enthusiasm for the event. I can’t have her getting ideas that anything—however insignificant—might have occurredbetween me and Jack, and the fact that I sang for him, and it left me aroused and confused, is a guilty secret that burns in the pit of my gut. I am tellingno one.

I ease out of Kate’s hold and cup my hands to blow into them, warming my fingers. It’s bloody freezing, but Nico keeps plying us with beers to stave off the chill, seeing as it was him who dragged us out of the Director’s box so he could ‘hear the roar of the engines’. I don’t like beer, and it’s so much liquid that I keep having to pee, but I’m not one to say no to free booze.

“Look, there’s Jack,” Kate says, pointing.

My heart leaps into my throat at the mention of his name.

Damn it.Why am I having these irrational reactions to the mere mention of him?After knowing him, orofhim, for nearly half my life, we spend one evening together and now I’m all messed up over it.Ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous, because I don’t even like him.

I. Don’t. Like. Him.

I watch as Jack steps out, ridiculously handsome even in his driving kit. He waves, and an answering roar fills the stands. I’m pretty sure I can hear screaming. He’s peacocking, and the crowd loves him for it. I want to be disgusted by how confident he is, but I can’t quite manage it. I’m a mess of nerves at the thought that he’s about to race a bullet-like car around the track.

“He’s crazy about these cars, and this is the only place he can actually put his foot down. Can’t be driving around central London at 200 miles an hour.” Kate presses her hands into prayer, brings them to her mouth, and stares down at Jack. She’s always worshipped him. “Do you see him? There.” Kate points again.

“Yeah.” I squint down at the track, as though I haven’t been tracing his every movement. Dark hair flops over his forehead, and he’s flashing that handsome smile at everyone nearby. He’s in his element, and it’s hard to look away from him. “I see him.”

The truth is, I’ve spent the entire afternoon trying to be subtle about ogling him. He’s been wandering around down there with his racing team, wearing one of those all in one suits that stretches over his broad shoulders and displays his arse perfectly. It’s a very different look from his tailored suits and cashmere overcoats, and it’s one I can definitely appreciate. When someone in his team wins, he roars like an animal. It’s hot, in a weird, primal kind of way, as though he’s the kind of guy who could put me over his shoulder and carry me back to his cave, whilst warding off wild animals (or other men) with a giant club. The idea amuses me, and I can’t help grinning as I watch, while simultaneously trying to ignore the fact that the idea might turn me on.

I’d never actually hook up with Jack, but admiring him from afar… that can’t do any harm, can it?

We sit in silence, watching as he fits his helmet and gets into his car, the engines revving as the racers wait on the starting positions.

I wring my hands, my heart thumping. I’m way more emotionally involved in this race than I ought to be.

The gun fires and the cars burst from the start line, roaring off at top speed. I watch Jack’s car weave through the others. I didn’t know he was into this stuff. It doesn’t take long before he’s near the front, his car edging up behind two ahead of him. I had no idea he was this good. Watching him race feels like I’ve unearthed some crazy, unexpected fact that only makes him more attractive. I have a sudden impulse to start telling everyone nearby that I know the man driving that car, as though I want to claim his ability as mine. To claimhimas mine.

“Are you feeling prepared for your interview?” Kate asks, her question a shock that draws my attention from Jack and has my heart jackknifing, as if I’ve just been caught doing somethingreally,reallybad.What if she knows? What if she can tell I’m thinking about her brother?