Page 12 of Racing Hearts
The group next to us erupted in quiet snickering.
Anthony watched my arm tug Georgia closer. A frustrated look danced in his eyes while he assessed the two of us. My fingers softly rubbed up and down her waist in soothing, circular motions, and to my surprise, Georgia rested her chin against my chest.
“With howboringyou are in bed, you’re delusional to think that Luca isn’t getting some on the side,” Anthony scoffed as he crossed his arms, still assessing the two of us with narrowed eyes. Georgia flinched, just for a second. And for reasons I didn’t want to examine too closely, that tiny reaction made something sharp twist in my chest.
Pushing Georgia aside, I stepped forward, blocking her from Anthony’s view. “Funny thing, Anthony, women aren’t lousy in bed if you know how to make them scream.” I leaned in, eyed locked on to his. “And, wow, is Georgia a screamer.”
He opened his mouth to fire something back at me, but before he could, I felt Georgia’s surprisingly soft hands on my cheeks, turning me towards her. Her eyes flickered down to my lips and she licked her own, her teeth grazing her bottom lip.
And then Georgia Dubois did the unexpected.
Gentle lips met mine in a soft, tender kiss that I knew was full of uncertainty. My eyes flickered to Anthony, whose face was full of satisfying rage. With our two drinks forgotten on the counter, I wrapped my arms around her waist, deepening the kiss. She arched into me, her hands sliding from my face to the back of my neck, fingers threading through my hair. It was slow and maddening and somehow felt awfullyreal.
Anthony was probably still standing there fuming, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. All I could think about was the taste of Georgia Dubois—gin, pink champagne, and something I knew I’d crave long after this moment was over.
My hand skimmed her back. Her nails grazed my skin. I swore the room disappeared.
Fuck, why is this the best kiss I’ve had in years?
Finally, she pulled away, breathless, cheeks flushed, eyes wide with the realization of what we’d just done. “Wow, um, sorry… I don’t know what came over me,” she gasped, still trying to catch her breath. Georgia looked mortified—and gorgeous with her embarrassed pink cheeks. I had the sudden urge to kiss her again.
“Glad to be of service,” I said, still catching my breath. “Always happy to get under Anthony’s skin.”
She snorted, grabbing her drink. “Can’t believe I ever dated that guy.”
“Well, you can’t be perfectonandoffthe track.”
She scoffed, rolling her eyes at me before quickly marching back to her teammate Lily who was already fanning herself and mouthing something absurdly dramatic.
“Hey, Georgia!” Both she and Lily looked up at me. “You’re welcome to come scream in my bed anytime!”
She flipped me off without missing a beat. But she was smiling. And not the fake PR smile Valkyrie had clearly taught her.
A real one.
And I’d be lying if I said it didn’t do something to me.
Chapter Six
Georgia
I could count on one hand the number of times I’d been as drunk as I was on Sunday. And two days later, I was still paying for it. By the end of the night, Henry and Éliott seemed more intent on seeing who could buy the most rounds of champagne, a battle that decidedly had been won by neither, considering no one could remember past round five.
When I woke up on Tuesday morning—head pounding, stomach queasy—I knew the flight to Miami would be hell. Doubleheaders were the worst. No time to recover. No time to process. Just fly, race, and repeat on a new continent. Formula 1 didn’t care if your will to live left your body somewhere over the ocean.
By Wednesday morning, after a restless, sweat-soaked night in the Miami humidity, I was starting to regret every decision I’d made since Sunday. Including not cranking the AC. The loud banging on my hotel room door did nothing to help with my headache.
Groaning, I wiped the sweat from my forehead before opening my hotel room door to an overjoyed Lily, grinning like a Disney princess high on sunshine. My teammate practically had sun shining out of her ass at any point of the day, and while she’d become one of my closest friends over the last year, her ability to see sunshine and rainbows everywhere was rather infuriating.
Especially when it felt like the surface of the sun in my hotel room.
“Georgia! Have you checked Instagram?” She barged in, tossing her race bag on the floor like a hurricane in designer sneakers, a gleeful smile on her face.
“No, not yet. Why?” Lily looked at me like I was the insane one, nother, impeccably dressed in a matching skort and Valkyrie polo, all ready to go two hours before we had to be at the paddock. Her makeup had been applied meticulously, her hair in a perfectly styled ponytail that said both effortless and copious effort. Impressive for seven thirty in the morning.
I, on the other hand, looked more like I’d been hit by the team bus.
“It’sall oversocial media! A British tabloid released it this morning!” Lily squealed.
