The feel of her body beneath me, the way shegaspedwhen I slid into her, her mouth open as she shattered around me. The moment her knees were pushed to her chest, her fingernails dug into my skin, panting, begging, fuckingpleading?—
I took a turn too wide.
"Whoa, Fraser, take it easy." Marco’s voice cut through the haze.
But I didn’t stop. I kept my hands on the wheel, kept pushing because I was angry and frustrated that she seemed keen on this "one night only" bullshit.
A week and a half since Miami. Since the last time I'd talked to Aurélie.And no amount of practice laps or punishing workouts had managed to pushherfrom my thoughts. Nothing could erase her.
I didn’tmeanto want her this much.
“That’s enough, mate,” Marco said, disrupting my thoughts again.
I ignored him. Kept my foot pressed flat to the simulated accelerator. If this had been real, I’d be wrecking the car, and my whole fucking life, too.
Please. I need to come.
I was one fucking step from flying toLuminisHQ in Paris and showing her exactly why she couldn’t keep running from me. We both wanted more than one drunken night. It was all I could think about.
You jealous idiot.
And God, I fucking was. Thinking someone else was in her hotel room that night? I was seconds from storming into that bathroom and losing my shit. Instead, she’d let me press her into the wall and toy with her robe.
She fucking wanted this as much as I did.
I overshot the braking zone. Such a stupid fucking mistake that I was barely paying attention to.
My heart pounded. Every part of me was wired too tight.
“Callum.”
I swore under my breath and tore off the headset.
Marco leaned against the doorway, arms crossed. “Still no response from her, then?”
I knew what he was really asking. I took a slow sip from my water bottle before answering. “No.”
Marco let out a low whistle. “Probably for the best. Gives you time to get your head on straight before practice this week.”
I grunted, yanking a hand through my hair in frustration. I needed a haircut. Needed it shorter at the nape of my neck so I stopped fucking thinking about her fingers twisting the ends and her nails scoring my nape. I kept checking for those marks in the mirror like a goddamn masochist.
Straight. Right.
As if I wasn’t replaying the way her legs trembled around me, how she writhed beneath me. Or picturing that ridiculously sexy blush on her cheeks, the wild, desperate look in her eyes when I teased her with her toy. When I praised her, claimed her, whispering everything that came to my mind.
I shouldn’t have said any of that, but I fuckingmeant it.
Marco’s voice dragged me back to earth—because clearly, he was the only thing keeping me from losing my fucking mind. I didn’t answer. Just kept my eyes on the wall, anywhere but Marco.
“Right. That’s why you’ve been glaring at your phone like it personally insulted your family.”
I scowled, because he was right, and that was the worst part.
The internet had been relentless since Miami. The “Frabois” videos were fucking everywhere, all over social media. But the ones ofjust her.The ones where she looked so effortlessly stunning, where she was happy without me, those ones stopped me in my tracks, every time.
“They’ve got too much time on their hands,” I grumbled.
“And you’ve got too much tension in yours.”
