Chapter 16
Peter
I wake up feeling like I’ve slept for the first time in months.
Don’t get me wrong, I do sleep, but this has been a different kind of sleep.
And it has everything to do with the sleeping beauty in my arms.
During the night, we must have switched positions, so I’m lying on my side. What hasn’t changed, though, is us being wrapped around each other like a blanket.
I don’t think I’ve ever slept with a woman without any sexual activities happening first—and even then—I always go, not wanting to freaking cuddle.
With Molly, I’ve cuddled the whole night, and I’ve also gotten the best sleep I can remember, which shouldn’t be possible in this tiny bed.
I expect the panic to set in. To start suffocating me and tell me that I shouldn’t do this. But it never comes.
And it feels fucking fantastic.
Opening up to her was hard.
When you’ve held something inside for a long time, you get to a point where you distance yourself from it.
Telling her my story felt exposed and almost foreign.
But it also gave me a sense of peace and comfort.
Having someone else know.
Not having to hide it from her anymore.
Molly stirs in my arms and snuggles closer to my body, which brings a smile to my lips.
How I ever denied myself this woman is beyond me.
I guess that is what happens when you meet someone who challenges you and makes you feel things you normally don’t.
Kissing her again felt like everything was right.
Each part of the puzzle finally found its place.
She opens her eyes, and for a moment, she seems shocked to see me.
But then yesterday comes back to her, and she smiles softly up at me as I bring her even closer.
“Morning,” she murmurs.
“Morning.”
I lean down and kiss her, both of us sighing as my hands go around her waist whilst she lays her hands on my chest.
Molly sits up in bed and asks me if I’d like any breakfast.
I raise a brow at her. “You planning on parading me in front of your team?”
“It’s not like they should be all that surprised. We did pose as the perfect couple just a few days ago.”
Shit, I’ve almost forgotten about all of that.
I guess she’s right.
They might find it odd that we’re “together”, but I guess it’s just a matter of time before the whole paddock will be all up in our business.
“What we do need is a story for your face,” she says, a grimace taking over.
Molly starts listing her suggestions.
The first one is that I got punched when defending her from an asshole. According to her, this would be the perfect story for the boyfriend act we’re currently playing.
Even though we’re not really playing all that much, if you ask me.
Her second suggestion, which is the closest to the truth, is that I got jumped by a burglar who robbed me.
If Molly weren’t a stellar editor, she would make a great PR manager.
She seems to have all the stories lined up.
I guess her upbringing and the fame associated with her name have posed some challenges as well.
“Honestly, I don’t care all that much about what we tell them, the media will probably make up their own story, no matter what I tell them.”
Over the years, I’ve gotten used to that, but I can tell Molly gets angry whenever we talk about the suits and the media.
She’s cute when she’s all fired up.
When it’s on my behalf, I want to fucking fall to my knees for her. Want to be the man she deserves.
I might not be the so-called perfect boyfriend as she said, but I’m planning to at least try for her.
Yesterday was a wake-up call in many ways.
My dad punching me and not even bothering to look at me as he just picked up my money and went on his merry way made me realise that it might be time for me to let the hope go.
I can’t let it consume me anymore, dragging me down.
I need to choose who matters in my life, and right now Molly has proven more times than I can count that she doesn’t run away at the first challenge.
I’ve turned her down and shut her out, only for her to turn right back again and try again when she saw that I needed it.
Even when I couldn’t see that myself.
She drags me out of bed, her arms going around my back.
“We’ll tell them what you want. There’s just Steve, who already kind of saw us red-handed when we kissed, so he’s been giving me looks ever since. Especially when you won that first race,” Molly says, and I smile, thinking back to my extra motivation that day.
“I was feeling a motivation boost that day. Fucking irritated after I saw you on a date with Miles,” I tell her, and the surprise on her face, before the blush creeps in, is adorable.
“If it makes you feel better, I was kind of hoping he’d help me get over the rejection from you,” she mumbles.
Even though I was irritated that she just jumped onto the next dude so quickly, I did have a feeling that it was connected to me in a fucked-up way.
God. We’ve been going at this in the wrong order, probably.
But hell, what do I know?
I’ve never even kissed the same girl twice until her.
I’m far from a relationship expert.
“Did he kiss you?”
I probably shouldn’t ask.
Of course he would have kissed her.
She’s funny and beautiful, only a moron wouldn’t have kissed her if he had the chance.
“Peter Centimo, are you jealous?”
God.
Is this how it feels when you’re jealous?
I know that when I saw her on that date with Miles, I felt complicated.
Angry.
Hurt.
Envious.
I guess that would make me fall in the jealous category, which seems to be making Molly very happy as she smirks up at me.
“Fucking hell. Yeah, I think I am,” I murmur, not used to feeling this way—and even more…talking about it.
I’m committed to trying with Molly, though, so I’ll humour her with my jealousy if it makes her feel better.
“I didn’t let him kiss me,” she says, and the relief in my chest is all the confirmation about just how jealous this woman can make me feel.
Christ.
She already has me wrapped around her finger. But it’s one pretty finger, and one worth holding onto.
I pull her hard to my body, smashing my lips against hers. I breathe into her, opening my mouth for better access.
She takes it, slipping her tongue in and twisting it with my own.
When I pull back—both of us breathless from my passionate attack—she looks dazed.
“Now that I can rest knowing Miles didn’t get to kiss you, let’s go meet the team.”
We make our way out, and sure enough, Steve is standing in the kitchen, the questions evident on his face.
It must be weird seeing us coming out of her room together. Add my bruise and cut lip, and the scene is all set for a set of noisy reporters.
He doesn’t take the bait, though, and I realise the Star News team may have even more integrity in their lines than just Molly.
“Morning,” he says simply.
“Morning,” I say back, and Molly seems eager to explain herself, but probably wants me to decide how we go about this.
“Got yourself a boyfriend now, Molly?” Steve asks, a small smile aimed her way.
I’m tempted to answer for her, but I know she hates it when people do that, so I shut my mouth.
“I haven’t decided if he’s earned that title just yet,” she says, which makes me and Steve chuckle.
Christ, she’s glorious.
I know I haven’t earned that title yet, and her pointing that out makes her all the more sexy in my eyes.
Making me work for it. Knowing I’ve been holding back with her.
Boyfriend.
That’s not something I’ve ever been to anyone.
Ever since I ran into Molly all those weeks ago, though, she’s been the only woman I’ve thought about.
I realise my life has looked quite different thus far this season.
I’ve focused on my training and nutrition more than before.
Turned up to every single appointment with Arthur—on time—not wanting to prove the suits right when they’ve shit-talked me to him.
And as far as the clubbing and women, the only time I went out was when I spotted Molly in the crowd and promised to kiss her when she was sober.
She’s given me more than any woman before her when I didn’t deserve it.
Steve is going on about catching us red-handed and waiting for this moment, which is why he’s not all that surprised to see me here.
I guess this was a moment waiting to happen.
It was only a matter of time before my restraint would break.
What’s surprising isn’t the when, but rather the how.
I expected to feel uncontrolled and anxious, handing over control to her. Instead, I feel relaxed and at peace for the first time in years.
It might backfire on me if this doesn’t work out, but this feeling is enough for me to take that risk, nevertheless.
Molly’s ability to make everyone feel at ease is extraordinary. Instead of feeling like an outsider, it’s pleasant having breakfast with them.
They’ve got a very domestic atmosphere going. The same one I appreciate so much whenever I’m with Arthur, too.
When we’re all full of breakfast, Steve takes his leave, and we wander to the lounge area, not quite ready to face the media storm that will await us when I step out into the public.
They may not be waiting outside this bus, but it’s only a matter of time before the media will find me, and when they see the state of my face, all hell will break loose.
We’re back to cuddling, Molly lying in my lap as we watch some TV, just enjoying each other’s company.
Suddenly, there are several knocks on the door, and Molly sits up, saying that this is weird as no one really knocks on this bus. Everyone just comes and goes.
She goes to the window and looks out.
“I think it’s one of your mechanics?”
Mechanics?
What the hell?
Then it clicks.
Ryan.
I stand up and look out myself, and sure enough, there is my best friend, patiently waiting outside the Star News bus.
My phone died sometime yesterday, and I haven’t bothered to charge it. He knows that my dad usually makes an appearance when we’re in Texas.
“That’s Ryan,” I say, before I open the door.
He comes right in, and when he sees my face, his eyes widen.
“Fuck, what happened to your face?”
He drops right into the couch like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
“How the hell did you find me?”