I DON’T NEED A BABYSITTER. ESPECIALLY NOT MY BROTHER’S BEST FRIEND. 

To the world Jordan Hastings is the record breaking F1 legend. In my world he’s nothing more than the pain in my ass of my teenage years.

We can’t stand each other. I call him arrogant. He calls me a brat. To say I’m not thrilled my brother is making him keep an eye on me is an understatement. 

It’s not the same as it used to be though. Jordan gets under my skin in ways that cross boundaries. Ways I shouldn’t want to explore. 

But I do. 

I thought it was a moment of weakness. A one nighter we’d laugh about in a few years. But now I find myself in compromising positions with the man I’ve learned to hate. 

He’s used to being in control in every aspect of his life. On the track. Of the track. But I’m not one of his trophies he can take out to play with whenever he wants. I’ll show him how he can’t control everything. 

Especially not the little brat he grew up with.