“You are everything I have ever wanted,” I murmured. Leaning closer, I caught a whiff of her intoxicating scent.
But the thing that really got me? Her perfume. It waslavender.
Soft, clean, barely there. But it had always been there.
It was those soft undertones that I hadn’t even realized drove me mad all along.
And now that I knew, I couldn’t believe I hadn’t noticed before. Couldn’t believe that every time she walked past me in the paddock, I wasn’t already losing my fucking mind over it. I wanted to bury my face in her neck just to breathe it in.
“You think this isanythinglike that?” I gestured between us, the air charged. “You thinkthisis just some casual fuck to me?”
Aurélieturned her head away, but I saw the look of uncertainty on her face that she was clearly trying to hide.
“This,” I said softly, “isn’t a game, love.”
Her hesitation lingered for only a second longer before she exhaled, her body softening, and I knew I had her. That reluctance in her cracked something open in me, something I couldn’t ignore, no matter how much I wanted to keep this simple. It just… wasn’t. There was something more here, and we both knew it.
“Besides,” I continued, straightening, “I haven’t tasted you yet, not really, let alone seen you completely naked.” I realized what I wasabout to say, and as much as the thought of it scared me, she deserved the truth. “So if you think you’re leaving right now, you’re out of your goddamn mind. This isn’t over. I already told you, I’m not finished with you yet.”
Even though Ishouldlet her go. Ishouldlet this be enough. But I wouldn’t. I fucking wouldn’t.
There was conflict on her face, but beneath it all, the undeniable glint of anticipation, of wanting. I put my hands on her shoulders and turned her around.
“Go take your minute,” I told her, my body thrumming with rekindled arousal, with a bone-deep need to claim her again. “And come back out when you’re ready.”
Her feet carried her into the bathroom, and then she shut the door behind her, and I knew she was here to stay. Mine, at least for the night.
I breathed a sigh of relief, dragging my hands down my face. No,Auréliewasn’t just another woman. She wasn’t just another race.
She was the fucking finish line.
And I’d be damned if I ever let her slip past me again.
I pressedmy palms to the bathroom door, the wood cool beneath my skin, steadying me as my pulse sprinted ahead of reason. My chest rose and fell like I’d just come out of Turn 16—fast, breathless, wired.
“Mon Dieu, qu’est-ce que je fais ici?” The words slipped out, low and shaky.
“Tu fais ce que tu veux, enfin.” His voice filtered through the door. Calm. Casual. But fluent. Perfect.
I froze. My spine snapped straight, my stomach dropping. That wasn’t a tourist’s phrase or something fumbled for effect. That was fluent, practiced, natural French. FromCallumFraser.
What the fuck?
Earlier, I assumed it was some party trick he threw around in bed. Butnooooo, because he couldn’tjustbe one of the bestF1drivers in history and one of my idols, he was fluentin my native language too?
My throat went dry. I hated that it stirred something deeper in me.
Heat bloomed in my chest—shock, confusion, and the tiniest flicker of something else. Something that scared me more than it should have. He spoke my language. Not just the words, but the meaning buried inside them.
The last layer of my defenses.
I turned toward the mirror, not ready to face the version of myself stillblinking in the reflection. My fingers gripped the sink basin as my heartbeat climbed again—not from the afterglow, but from something darker clawing its way to the surface.
My gaze caught on a faint mark on my shoulder. A bite. I should’ve been embarrassed, but all I could think was how much I wanted another from him.
This isn’t who you are.
That voice—sharp, cold—wasn’t mine. It hadn’t spoken in a long time.
