15. Callum
The sound of Aurélie scrambling from my bed drew me back to the present.
I watched, propped up on an elbow, as she darted about the room, her movements quick and frantic.
Her hair was a tousled mess, cascades of golden waves tumbling over her shoulders, and despite the chaos, it was impossible not to be entranced by her frantic energy.
“Merde,” she cursed under her breath, her French accent thicker with stress as she looked around the room, her fingers combing through her locks in frustration. “I just realized I didn’t bring a single piece of clothing. How could I be so?—”
“Not sure what good these will do for you now,” I teased, holding up the pink lace that had been the last barrier between us.
Her head snapped towards me, eyes wide and cheeks flushed with a mix of irritation and embarrassment.
“Callum, that’s not funny!” she snapped, yanking open one of my dresser drawers to pull out a pair of boxer briefs.
“I just can’t believe I didn’t even think about needing stuff for today. I was so… so?—”
“Careless?” I supplied the word, my voice low and thick with amusement.
My gaze followed the curve of her waist as she bent to peer under the bed, the morning light casting her in a glow that softened the hard lines of competition between us.
Her ass was bright red with my handprints, and holy fuck, that was ridiculously sexy.
“Non, not careless,” she snapped back, straightening up with the shirt she’d worn to bed and shooting me a glare that could ignite the sun. Her eyes, usually sharp as daggers, were wide with the wildness of the moment. “Just… not prepared for this.”
“Isn’t that practically your mantra? ‘Always be prepared,’” I teased, the words rolling off my tongue like velvet. I was utterly unable to tear my gaze away from the sight of her in such disarray. It was captivating, the way she tried to marshal control over the situation, over herself.
Aurélie’s hands planted on her hips as she faced me—completely, unashamedly naked, as if she hadn’t just turned my entire world inside out ten minutes ago.
“This is different, Fraser.” Her accent twisted around my name, turning it into something more intimate than it had any right to be.
I couldn’t stop ogling her. Golden skin, flushed and glowing. Strands of hair clinging to her sweaty skin. Lips swollen and rosy. My pulse kicked up savagely. She looked like a fucking fever dream, and I was burning for her all over again.
“Is it now?”
Aurélie scoffed, rolling her eyes as she tugged my shirt over her head. I damn near lost it. It swallowed her frame, slipping off one shoulder, brushing the tops of her thighs, and somehow made her look even more devastating.
She was wearing me. And it was the hottest fucking thing I’d ever seen.
“You seem to have forgotten a key component of your racing attire. Or, you know, any of it at all.”
She muttered a string of rapid French, too quick for me to catch, but her tone told me everything.
Embarrassment. Frustration. The kindling of desire still lingering between us.
“Comment vais-je retourner au paddock dans les mêmes vêtements qu’hier?
” she grumbled, so quietly I could barely hear the indignation in her voice that clashed beautifully with the flush on her cheeks.
“Perhaps a walk of shame would suit you, Dubois,” I murmured, allowing the full force of my grin to show. I was having way too much fun teasing her, but it was all for good reason to get her to loosen up. “It would certainly give the paparazzi something to talk about besides lap times.”
“Shame?” She pivoted, her posture rigid, eyes blazing with the fire that had drawn me to her from the start. “There’s no shame in what we did, Callum. Only the consequence of… distraction.”
“Distraction,” I echoed, tasting the word, letting it linger like the heat that sizzled between us. “A dangerous game we’re playing, wouldn’t you say?”
“Le plus dangereux,” she conceded with a nod, her defiance cooling into something resembling resignation. “But then, danger is part of the fun, n’est-ce pas?”
“Indeed it is, Aurélie. Indeed it is. See, you’re getting it now.” My voice rumbled with a promise, the same promise that simmered beneath the surface of our every interaction. Dangerous. Thrilling. And utterly irresistible.
Her eyes trailed down my body, the look heating as she took in my half-hard dick still wearing a condom.
“Get ready, Callum. We have somewhere to be,” she said, her voice all business, though her eyes betrayed her.
“Of course.” I swung my legs out of bed, the cool air of the room hitting my bare skin.
But as I stood, there was a potency in the silence that followed—a shared understanding that what happened between us wasn’t just about satisfying a physical need.
It was more complex than that. I stretched, then pulled the condom off and tossed it in the trashcan by my bedside.
“?a ne devrait pas être légal d’être aussi beau que toi.” She shook her head, looking lost in the middle of my room.
I grinned at her and decided to put her out of her misery. “Speaking an awful lot of French today, Dubois. I love it. And thank you. I also like you best when you’re undone and freshly fucked.”
Her mouth snapped shut, her cheeks turning bright red. It was a sight to behold.
Chuckling, I said, “Relax, Dubois. I’ve got you covered.”
“Relax? I have no underwear, Callum! And I have to walk into the lion’s den looking like I just rolled out of someone else’s bed!”
I raised a brow, utterly unbothered. “Technically, you did.”
Her glare sharpened, and I bit back a laugh. “You’re impossible!”
“I’m prepared,” I replied calmly as I gestured toward the door. “Kimi dropped off your bags last night. Everything you need is downstairs. The doorman should be bringing them up now.”
She froze mid-step and narrowed her eyes at me. “You could’ve told me sooner.”
“And miss this performance?” I teased. She glowered at me, but there was a flicker of relief in her expression that she couldn’t hide completely.
We stood there, locked in a moment that stretched taut with wanton desire and raw emotions. This woman, who raced with the heart of a lioness, stared back at me—not with the bravado of a competitor, but with the vulnerability of a lover.
“Merci,” she whispered, the single word laden with a complexity that only we could understand.
“De rien,” I replied. I kissed her forehead before sauntering into the bathroom to shower, because if I lingered a moment longer, I might not let her leave my space.
The lift ride down to the parking garage was quiet. Aurélie was clutching her bags, and we were both dressed in our team gear and freshly showered.
Her hair was styled in two braids, and her makeup was minimal.
Her posture was all confidence and determination, the vulnerability from earlier tucked neatly away.
But I couldn’t unsee it. I couldn’t forget the way she’d looked curled into herself yesterday, how broken she’d been when talking about her past, or the sound of her laughter filling the room this morning.
Watching her should’ve been the last thing I was doing, but I just couldn’t resist.
“Eyes forward, Fraser,” she said under her breath, her lips twitching in a barely-there smirk.
“You’re a hard woman to ignore,” I shot back, keeping my tone light.
She didn’t respond, but the brief flicker of warmth in her expression was all I needed to confirm she was feeling the same way I was.
Just as the lift slid to a stop, the masks slipped into place, and we were nothing more than colleagues now. No matter how much I wished that wasn’t the case.
I started mapping out the day ahead—every practice lap, every pit stop, and every fleeting moment I could catch a glimpse of Aurélie. She might not see it yet, but in this sport, she was already my greatest challenge. And I wasn’t about to lose.
We stepped out of the lift at the same time. Kimi was parked and waiting for her, leaning against his red McLaren 570GT. Aurélie smiled at him, her gait purposeful, but the slight tilt of her head told me she wasn’t completely at ease.
I knew she was dreading going back to the paddock, especially after her frustrating DNF last week.
Kimi glanced at me over her shoulder, nodding once. I nodded back, as if to tell him she was okay for now. There was an understanding between us, and while I didn’t love handing her off to another man, I was grateful for their friendship beyond being teammates.
I heard him murmur, “You’ve got this. Let the track do the talking so you don’t have to.” Her response was a nod, and he took her bag and put it in the back seat.
She turned and gave me a shy smile, then cupped her hands over her mouth. “See you on the track, Fraser!” Her voice was layered with both confidence and a hint of the intimacy we’d shared. Her eyes lingered on me just a moment too long, betraying the emotions I knew she was trying to keep hidden.
I couldn’t stop the grin that split my face. “Don’t let me distract you,” I called after her as Kimi held the door open for her.
“I’d like to see you try.” Then she dropped into the passenger seat and Kimi shut the door.
He gave me a small wave before climbing into the car himself, the engine roaring to life.
It felt so… final. Like all the emotions shared between us yesterday would be locked away until further notice.
And as grateful as I was for Kimi, I was jealous that he was the one who got to parade around with her. He had the luxury of standing beside her without the weight of suspicion. Meanwhile, I was trapped behind a mask, forced to watch from the shadows.
The world of racing was one of control, of calculated risks and split-second decisions. But Aurélie… she wasn’t just a wildcard on the track. She was the one thing I couldn’t control. And in a world where control was everything, that made her my greatest risk—and my greatest reward.
And as I stood there, watching the taillights of Kimi’s car disappear, I knew that whatever game we were playing, the stakes had just risen exponentially.
This wasn’t just about racing anymore. It was about keeping her close without letting the world catch on—and knowing full well that in a game like this, every move could cost us everything.