Drive to Survive

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen

Daniel Ricciardo talked a lot of shit but one thing he had been right about was the strength of those pretty cocktails.

Dylan had no idea how she'd ended up on the dance floor being twirled around by Tom and Mike but she was having an incredible time in the heat of the crowd. The club was absolutely packed and the bass was so loud, she could feel it in her fingertips.

The last thing she remembered, Charles and Carlos were still drooling over the models and she'd gotten bored in the VIP area by herself. There were some hazy moments in between; she briefly recalled taking shots with Mick, yelling something at Danny, and Pierre had been daring her to do something, only she couldn't remember what it was.

Amazingly, she'd found her Red Bull friends- or they'd found her, maybe- and now she was just one part of the heaving crowd, all moving to the pounding beat. Hunter handed her a drink at some point and she made quick work of it, downing the blue liquid and throwing the plastic cup into the air.

After a while, the music changed to a slower beat and Dylan recognised the familiar Spanish words in the lyrics. Declarations of love, of passion, and of enchantment bled through the music and she swayed her hips side to side, losing herself in the moment.

Warm hands came to rest firmly on her hips and she leaned into the touch, a sense of contentment and desire breaking through her drunken haze. Uninhibited, she closed her eyes and relaxed against the figure behind her until they moved as one, his hands guiding her hips to the beat.

Among the dry ice, heat, and sweat of the club, this stranger smelled intoxicatingly good. It was something warm and almost spicy, like bergamot and sandalwood. And it was driving her insane along with the feel of his body against hers. Her mind may have been blurry but his hands were steady and the way he was gripping her was sending that familiar flush of heat throughout her entire body. He just felt good and she pressed herself further into him.

They moved together for what felt like forever, pressing closer and closer. His head dipped down and his mouth was at the curve of her neck, sending chills down her spine. The feeling of him enveloped her and she never wanted it to end.

She had to turn around. She needed to know who the person was behind her. She couldn't let him slip away back into the crowd when the chemistry between them was so electric. She wanted more of this, much more of this feeling because it just made sense, that was the only way to describe it.

As the songs slowed down and merged into a new style, she took the plunge and spun on her heel, coming face to face with a shockingly familiar pair of blue eyes.

Max Verstappen was staring straight back at her.

His face was flushed, his hair messy, and his eyes a little hazy with alcohol but he looked so damn good. Her heart jumped into her throat as she waited for his face to crumple in recognition and disgust. He couldn't have known it was her, she must have looked different from behind.

He must have mistaken her for one of the local European girls who had come to join tonight. He must have done that because based on everything she had learned about him since her first day on the job, there was no way that Max Verstappen would ever willingly put his hands on her hips and dance with her. There was no way he'd hold her so closely. There was no way that he was the person who made sense.

So she waited for the penny to drop, for the shove away, for the excuses and rationalisations as to why he'd made such a mistake.

The thought of it made her frown. It wasn't fair that things had to happen this way. It wasn't fair that she was so cruelly attracted to someone who didn't like her.