I made my way over before I could think better of it, cameras be damned. The closer I got, the goofier the smile threatening my mouth. She hadn’t noticed me yet, but that was about to change.
I lifted my hand, leaned in, and let my fingers lightly skim the small of her back—just enough to tease, but not enough to get caught on camera. There were at least three lenses pointed in our direction, but I didn’t care.
“Your tattoo’s showing.”
She jumped as if I’d set her spine on fire, whirling on me and smacking my arm hard enough to make the Red Bull drivers next to us blink. “You dick,” she hissed. “Don’t say that out loud!” The sun caught all the green hues in her hazel eyes as she turned to adjust her shirt.
I grinned. “Relax. Your shorts are covering it. Mostly.”
She narrowed her eyes. “My parents could be watching this broadcast. I swear to God, Fraser, if they ever find out I have a tattoo there because of you?—”
“I’ll write them a formal apology,” I said, still grinning like an idiot. “Dear Monsieur and Madame Dubois, sorry your daughter has immaculate taste in ink placement.” She rolled her eyes, but her cheeks flushed, and fuck if that didn’t undo me a little.
I leaned in and lowered my voice just enough for her alone. “Also, sorry she’s a little slut.”
Her gasp was instant. She whipped her head toward me, scandalized, and God, I lived for that fire in her eyes. “Callum!”
I winked. “You said it first, remember?”
She was full-on blushing now—furious and flustered and stunning—and it took every ounce of self-control not to drag her into my lap right there on the back of the truck. Yeah, this was entirely too dangerous to do in public. We were only inches apart now, the hum of the crowd loud and close. She turned toward the screaming fans and started waving, slipping back into PR mode like a pro.
Her next words were quiet, just for me. “Thought we agreed to keep our distance.”
I stepped in just enough that my shoulder brushed hers. “We also agreed to lie to ourselves and call it just one night. That didn’t stick either.”
She didn’t look at me, but the corner of her mouth twitched. I watched her wave again, all graceful, professional, and untouchable, but I saw the tightness in her jaw and the defeat in her shoulders.
I fucking hated it.
“You look like you were made in heaven,” I murmured, letting the words drip like honey. “Fait au paradis.”
She stilled, her breath catching so subtly I might’ve missed it if I hadn’t been waiting for it. Then she tilted her head slightly, eyes still on the crowd, and whispered, “You’re not supposed to know what it means.”
I smiled and finally looked at the crowd. “I do. Almost fluent, remember?”
A full beat of silence passed before she said, soft and dangerous, “You really are a menace.”
I chuckled darkly, resting my hands on the railing, feeling the cool metal bite my palms. “You haven’t even seen the worst of it.” As the driver’s parade rounded the harbor and the crowd roared louder, I waved like I was doing my job, but all I could think about was her.
And the fact thatfait au paradiswasn’t just a tattoo anymore. It was a fucking declaration.
“But a menace who knows where to find the best pistachio lattes in Monte Carlo. It’s a seasonal flavor.”
She uncrossed her arms slowly, eyes narrowing like she wasn’t sure whether to be suspicious or amused. The wind whipped some of her long wayward strands, and they brushed the exposed skin of my biceps. I remembered the feeling of her hair dragging across my thighs when she rode me.
Fucking hell, Fraser.
I swore sometimes I was a goddamnmasochist. Why the fuck would I think about that right now?
“That’s random,” Aurélie said, and a small smile fought its way across her face. It was radiant, and my heart pounded. What was it about this woman that had me in a chokehold?
“Is it?” I tilted my head. “Thought you might want to go get some tomorrow. Post-Media Day treat.”
“What, so you can interrogate me about my tattoos and destroy my last shred of privacy?”
“No,” I said, quieter now. “So I can see you smile like you did before we woke up on Monday.”
She rolled her lips together, hesitating as she leaned her forearms against the railing. “I only seem to smile like that when you’re involved.” Her expression shifted and her shoulders dipped slightly, lips parting, as if she hadn’t meant to confess that. I didn’t want her to retreat into herself.
