"What kind of dramatic are we talking here?"
She swallowed, and my eyes dipped to her mouth. "Nothing too crazy. Illicit paddock hookups. That kind of thing."
"Thatkind of thing? Dubois, it's definitely sounding like you did more thanskimit."
Aurélie shook her head. "Don't tell me you wouldn't have done the same."
"You're right."" I pulled out my phone. "I'll just search for 'Callum Fraser and Aurélie Dubois fanfiction' and see what comes up. Maybe it's under—oh, is this it?Red Flag and Red Lace? It's got—holy shit—tenthousandcomments?"
Her jaw dropped. "No—hey, wait, how did you find it that easily?"
"Pretty sure my phone's algorithm is tailored to all things us. Can't escape it."Us.As if there was anusto even discuss. I meant it as a joke, but we both froze and stared at each other. God, she was pretty. Way too fucking pretty. All gold hair and tan skin and glittering eyes and?—
"Don't you dare read it." She launched across the table in a blur of movement, trying to snatch the phone from my hand. But in the scramble, she ended up half-sprawled over the table, and my brain short-circuited, because my eyes went straight to the view down her shirt. Lace. Dark pink. Delicate.
I wasn't thinking about fanfiction anymore.
Except… the screen had already loaded. Right at the top of the page, bold and damning, was the opening line of the fic.
I cleared my throat and read aloud, half-teasing, "Callum pressed Aurélie up against the garage wall, fire still in his veins from the race?—"
She cringed. "No?—"
"—and dragged his teeth along the inside of her thigh like she was the only victory that mattered." I stopped. Blinked. Heat crept up the back of neck. Raced to my cock so fucking fast I felt lightheaded.
Aurélie fell back in her seat, groaning. I glanced up. She lookedmortified. "You read that out loud," she whispered.
"I—" I blinked again. "Yeah. Yeah, I did." My brain was buffering. Mynamewas in it. So was hers. And her thighs. Oh, Jesus Christ, I was so fucking fucked.
She buried her face in her hands. "You weren't supposed to do that, you idiot."
I looked at the screen again, afraid to read more but also painfully curious. "Is that really how it starts?"
"It's a creative interpretation," she muttered.
My mouth went dry. "That's… one way to put it."
She finally peeked at me through her fingers. "You're blushing, Fraser."
"I'm not."
"Youare." She dropped her hands and flashed me a wicked grin that had me shifting in my seat. "It's the thigh line, isn't it?"
I opened my mouth to defend myself. Nothing came out.
She noticed. "I'll never recover from this, will I?"
I dragged a hand down my face, suddenly very aware of the tension vibrating in the air. "No, but neither will I. They really went there."
"Theylivethere, Callum. That's, like, the least explicit part."
"That was theleastexplicit?"
Her cheeks flushed a deep pink. “Yes, and that isnotthe best part. Forget it. Give me that.” She yanked the phone out of my grip, flustered, and locked the screen. My brain fought to focus on anything but the very, very-not-safe-for-work thoughts currently consuming me.
My gaze slid down to where her sleeve had ridden up slightly. I noticed a faint, jagged scar on her forearm as she reached for her cup again. It was almost hidden beneath the fabric, but the morning light caught it just right. Before I could stop myself, I reached across the table and gently took her wrist, turning it slightly to get a better look.
I was crossing some invisible line, but Ineededto touch her now. It wouldn't be in all the ways I wanted, but it was something, at least.
