“What's this from?” I asked, my voice soft.
Her brows rose in surprise, and for a moment, I thought she might pull away. But instead, she let out a small sigh, her fingers curling into mine. My heart flipped.
Oh no.
That was new. Why was it doing that?
“Kartingcrash. My arm got caught when I flipped. It's nothing.”
“It doesn't look like nothing,” I said, my thumb brushing lightly over the scar. The contact was brief, but it sent a jolt through me. I wanted to kiss her scar and—Jesus.What the fuck was wrong with me?
She pulled her hand back, inhaling like it had affected her, too. “Part of the job, I guess. I've got worse ones.”
I briefly wondered if she'd let me take her hand in mine again. “Worse?”
“Emotionally, yeah.” She chuckled, but the comment felt a little too apt, making me believe there was some truth to it. “Physically, no. I've been more fortunate than my brother. Besides, we all take risks every time we get in the car.”
Her confession caught me off guard. This was someone who had seen the darker side of the sport, someone who carried those scars, both visible and invisible, with her every day.
“Auri,” I said softly, testing the nickname. It felt dangerous in my mouth. Too personal. Too intimate. I said it anyway.
Her eyes snapped to mine. “Auri?”
“Feels right,” I said with a small shrug, leaning back in my seat. “Unless you hate it?”
She hesitated, then shook her head. “No, I don't hate it. But no one's called me that.”
“Never?”
“Never.” I liked that it was a name no one else had touched. And now it was mine.
Whoa.
Nope. That was a dangerous thought. Absolutely fucking not.
“But don't let it go to your head, Fraser.”
“Too late,” I said, grinning.
The connection between us softened into something warmer, but there was still an undercurrent of something more.
As we left thecafé, I couldn't help but glance at her again, the sunlight catching the faint blush still lingering on her cheeks. Yeah, so that goal to not walk out of here with a hard-on? Out the fucking window.
“Let me guess,” she said, catching my stare. “You're going to say something cheeky.”
“Not this time,” I said, holding the door open for her. “I was just thinking about how much trouble you're going to cause this season.”
Her laugh was low, curling down my spine.
One hand gripped the handle of her suitcase. The other reached out, fingers hooking into the hem of my hoodie at my hip.
She tugged me toward her, slow and confident, then rose on her toes to press a kiss to my cheek. It wasn't sweet. It was deliberate, lingering just long enough to leave a burn and her perfume behind, as if she wanted me tofeelit.
Her lips hovered near my ear. “Still not going soft, I see,” she whispered. Then, quieter, "Good."
She let go, flashedme a parting smile, and then walked away.
Just like that.
