Fuck,Aurélie. You feel so fucking good.
My perfect little slut.
I felt it everywhere still. I fucking hated him for it.
Callumtwisted, pulling his legs onto the dock and resting his feet flat on the ground, dangling his arms over his knees, voice dropping into something deeper. “You didn’t run because you regretted it.” His eyes burned into mine. “You ran because you didn’t.”
I couldn’t breathe. My skin prickled.
Can’t wait to do it again, love.
I couldn't stand how easily he saw me, and I wanted to claw my way out of whatever the hell was happening between us. It was all too much. I needed space and?—
I turned away again, hating myself for doing exactly what he said I would. Hated myself more for falling into his words as if they meant more than they did.
Behind me, his voice came quiet but deadly. “You can run all youwant,Dubois.” I froze. His shadow showed he was standing now and was stepping closer. His breath was warm against my ear as he leaned in closer, voice as seductive as when he was inside me. My nipples hardened, aching beneath the thin fabric of my shirt as I remembered how he marked me with his touch and captivated me with his kiss.
“But you’re gonna spend the rest of the season looking over your shoulder…” His fingers brushed my wrist. Barely a touch, but it burned. “Wondering how long before I finally catch you.”
You’re mine.
Then he stepped around me, trailing his finger up across my shoulders before leaving me standing there, heart in my throat, thighs clenching, lips still tender from his kiss, body yearning for his touch like it hadn't been completely, thoroughly fucked the night before.
I hated it, and goddamn it… I fuckingwantedhim anyway.
The deafening roarof the crowd enveloped me, vibrating through my body as I stood in the middle of the sprawling event grounds. Bright banners and flashing lights lit up every corner, proudly announcing the"Vanguard Racing xMotoMasters Charity Event.”The air was charged with a tangible energy, as fans from all over gathered to witness the exhilarating display of speed and skill.
Like I fucking cared.
Imolawas just a week away, but this pit stop was a chance for Vanguard to connect with theirMotoGPteam and their supporters on a more personal level. I had been hesitant about participating, but Marco, always the charismatic one of our duo, had convinced me to “embrace the opportunity with open arms.”
Whatever the fuck that meant.
It was easier for him to be all nonchalant about this because he wasn't the driver Vanguard was choosing to participate in this race. And all because I thought it would be fun in my early twenties to be licensed to drive a sports bike.
“It’s not just about fans loving you; it’s about reminding them why they do,” Marco had said, pacing the room during a strategy meeting when Tessa, our PR manager, pitched it to us. “Plus, it’s for kids, Fraser. Even you can’t argue with that,you grumpy fuck.”
I only grunted in response, my eyes scanning the glossy promotional materials for the event. There were photos of customDucati bikes, charity banners, and smiling children from the hospital in Bologna filled the brochure. The concept was solid, I had to admit.
It wasn’t the event itself that bothered me, it was the thought of playing the role of the smiling, approachable driver when my head was anywhere but in the game.
Every time I blinked? I sawher.Aurélie in that silk robe, barely hanging off her body, the fabric slipping down her shoulder as she pulled the door open. The shower still running behind her. The flush high on her cheeks, golden-green eyes burning.
Aurélie in my lap, struggling for air as she begged me in French. The sweat on our skin as her arousal leaked everywhere. The soft floral, citrusy smell that was so distinctly her and permanently etched in my brain.
My gut twisted.Get out of my fucking head.
Now, as I adjusted my helmet on the starting line, the weight of the crowd’s energy pressed against me. I could feel Marco’s watchful gaze from the sidelines, headset in place and clipboard in hand, coordinating with the PR team to ensure every moment went off without a hitch.
“You ready for this, Fraser?” Marco’s voice crackled through thecommsin my ear. He stood off to the side, looking far too pleased with himself and absolutely unqualified to be giving me instructions like he was the fucking team principal.
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” I muttered, revving the bike. The engine growled beneath me as I tightened my grip on the handlebars. He didn’t need to know that I had already lost this battle.
“Don’t overthink it,” Marco added. “This is supposed to be fun.”
“You’re doing the next event,” I grumbled.
Funwasn’t exactly my forte these days. Not when every waking moment was haunted by a certain five-foot-three, blonde-haired, golden-skinned hurricane of a driver.
