“Shut up,” I muttered, pulling out my phone to look atAurélie'scomment on my post that I'd left unanswered.
@aurelie.dubois47: Hope you’re ready for more of it. ;)
I hesitated.
Typed out one response. Deleted it.
Typed another. Too obvious.
Fuck it.
@cal_fraser19.96: Always ready. Don’t keep me waiting.
I wassure the fans would have a heyday with these comments. They were probably already freaking out, thinking there was something more there than there actually was.
I locked my phone like doing so could keep me from thinking about her, shoving it back into my pocket before Marco could make another comment. But his knowing grin told me I wasn't getting out of this unscathed.
He was clearly not buying it, but he let it slide. “So, when are you going to ask her out?”
“Don't start,” I warned, though my tone lacked conviction. I thought about our coffee date. If you could even consider it a date.
“It's cute, really,” Marco continued, ignoring me entirely. “The big, bad four-time world champion getting all flustered over the rookie. Makes you almost human.”
All I did was grunt as I tried my best to stuff my feelings into a box and lock them away for good.
Marco’s laughter was still ringing in my ears as I yanked my phone back out—again—barely a minute after putting it away. I told myself I was just checking the time and trying to escape his smug grin and relentless teasing. It wasn’t because I couldn’t stop thinking about her. Not because I couldn’t stop thinking about her. And absolutely not because I was spiraling and had no self-control.
I didn't expect her message. But fuck, there it was.
Aurélie
You looked good this morning… best performance.
My stomach fucking dropped.
Blood rushed to my ears. My brain short-circuited, dick twitching at just two words on a screen. I read the words like they'd rearrange, like they'd give me an out I knew wasn't coming. They didn't. Because this wasn't about therun.
Best performance.
Christ.
Heat licked up my spine, pooling low in my gut as the memories slammed into me all at once. Her breathless moan against my mouth. Legs locked tight around my waist. Nails raking down my back. Fingers in my hair. Her body rolling against mine like she wanted me to fuck her then and there.
Fuck.
I could not be thinking about this right now.
But she'dmademe.
I should ignore it. Should leave her on read, let her sit in it, pretendit hadn't happened—just like we said. Except my fingers were already moving, the devil on my shoulder working faster than my common sense.
You say shit like that, people might think you’re still thinking about it.
There. That was good, right? That was casual. Flirty, but not obvious. Definitely not giving away the fact that I shifted in my seat, subtly adjusting the way my race suit pulled tight across my crotch because of her message.
I locked my phone, gently placing it on the table in front of me, and exhaled hard.
“Uh-oh,” Marco said, sipping his coffee like this was a fucking show for his entertainment. “That bad, huh?”
