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
Early the next morning, both of our phones are practically levitating off the nightstand from all the texts and calls congratulating us on the race win.
But Max and I are ignoring the world because we're snuggling after another round of sex. We've had the most incredible night together, not talking about anything substantial, staying in our own little carnal world. All we've done is laugh and screw, and it's been heavenly. I'd forgotten what fun he was to be around, away from the glitz and glamour of Formula World.
"We have few days off between races, until we have to get to Montreal on Wednesday. Let's go somewhere." He says this while we're burrowed under the covers. Like when we first met, we share a love of a subzero air conditioning while buried under a thick down duvet. We're generating enough heat under the blanket to probably power all of Texas.
The curtains are open, sending sunlight pouring into the room. My stomach rumbles, and I remember that I'll need to eat at some point. That I can't feast only on Max.
"Where should we go?" I roll onto my side, folding myself into his body. My lips feel kiss-stung and swollen, and my entire body aches in a satisfying way. I'd lost count of how many orgasms I'd had, and my brain feels pleasantly fuzzy, as if I'm a little drunk on champagne.
"Hm. We've got to be careful. Somewhere private."
And there it is. The first indication that what we're doing isn't quite right. That if word leaked out about our relationship that we'd be raked over the coals in the press. I'd be, anyway. He'd probably get a freaking medal because that's the way it is for men.
"The Caribbean?" I trail a finger down his chest. He's grown a sprinkling of chest hair since we were first together.
"I heard one of the other drivers talk about this place north of Montreal. It's a resort town, in the woods, secluded cabins and such."
I lift my head. The idea of being in the cool forest after all this Texas heat, sounds incredibly appealing and cozy. "You know, I've never been up there."
"There's a lake and we could swim. You in a bikini."
"Oh yeah, that's a real treat," I say sarcastically.
"You really haven't changed, have you?" He stares at me, his blue gaze unwavering.
"What do you mean?"
"You still don't think you're gorgeous."
"Max." I kiss his nose. "I appreciate that you think I'm pretty, but objectively, and I say this without emotion: I'm an average looking human. Especially around you and Anh and all of the beautiful people in this sport."
"I don't think that at all. I've never thought that."
"Well, thank you. But you surely know what gorgeous women look like."
"Seriously." He traces my jawline. "I always looked at you like a slot machine jackpot."
A look of horror crosses my face. "What?"
"Let me explain."
"Please, because this sounds really weird and borderline offensive."
"Okay, hear me out. Remember the time we were in Vegas and we went to that rundown casino and no one recognized me and we played all those slot machines?"
"Yep. Sure do." It was one of my fondest memories, a time when we'd flown away together for a weekend, just the two of us, before he was super famous.
"You know how you win some money if you get like, two cherries, or three oranges, on the machine?" He rotates his finger to mimic the spinning icons of the slot.
I nod.
"But those prizes aren't the jackpot. I consider other women like the cherries or the oranges. I was happy with the result. I had fun playing. But I was chasing the jackpot. The row of sevens."
"I see." I'm not sure I do, but I want him to continue.
"You're the sevens. You're the jackpot. I don't know why you are that for me, but you are. It's a combination of your humor and your mind and your looks and everything about you. I've been chasing the jackpot of you for years."
Now I'm stunned into silence. We lie there for a while, snuggling. I'm trying to come up with a witty retort and I can't.
"You know, I like this idea of the cabin more and more," he says, changing the subject. "I'll have my assistant book a villa and a plane." He lets out a laugh.
"What?" I ask, still reeling from his words.
"I remember when we were together before. I never dreamed I'd reach private jet levels of success."
"Well, I always believed you would." And that's precisely why I'd ended our relationship. Because I knew he'd be a superstar, and that wasn't a life I wanted to lead.
Yet here I am. In bed with him. In the middle of the maelstrom that comes with Formula World. I'm trying desperately to hang on to my normal life, and yet I'm planning on flying to Canada early so I can soak up more time in Max's presence.
Because who knows how long this, us, will last. It's a question I don't want to ask myself, much less ask him. It sure seems like he's interested, though, and that fact makes my heart soar. Best to take this slow, though.
I reach for my phone. "Probably I'll fly separately, because I should go to Miami to check on Dad."
"Ohh, babe. We can stop in Miami. Let's fly together."
