Now #3
“Didn’t you say … Cynthia, was it? … was a big fan of mine? Wouldn’t she love having me as a special guest? You wouldn’t even have to bring a gift.”
I offer him a blank look and say, “You’re not that much of a gift to humanity, Hot Wheels.”
“Now you’re trying to hurt my feelings, princess.”
“Would you really want to meet my friends?” I insist after a few seconds.
“Yes. Unless I’m still your dirty little secret.”
“You were never a dirty secret. More like a complicated secret.”
I consider his offer for a moment, eyes lost somewhere on his tattooed chest. The whole time I do, it’s like he can’t stop himself from touching me—brushing away the thin strands that stick to my temples, caressing the curve of my cheekbone with the pad of his thumb, following the humid path a drop of sweat left down my neck …
I met some of his friends. Spent a few days on a yacht with them. It would only be fair if I returned the favor. I didn’t want anyone to know about us when we were only fooling around, but we’re giving it a real chance now, aren’t we? They’ll have to meet him eventually.
It’s also my birthday, kind of, so he’s right. I can bring whoever I want. And it’s not like we have to tell them we’re together right away. I can just explain he’s an ex who was in town, and Cynthia’s fondness for him encouraged me to bring him along.
“I understand if you’d rather I didn’t come on Sunday,” he says softly when I haven’t decided after a while. “I’ll visit my parents again or patiently wait for you to return.”
“Won’t you get into trouble if word spreads that you’ve been hanging out with us instead of racing?”
“Not really. The recovery plan my physiotherapist came up with is a few days of rest, then on Monday, we’ll start exercises to get me ready for Silverstone in two weeks. So, I’m allowed to do whatever I want until Monday.”
Another few beats go by, and when I meet his eyes again, I’ve made my decision. “Okay, you can come. But you have to let me control the narrative.”
He tries—and fails—to hide how happy this makes him. Yes, letting him meet my friends is a big step. It’s probably too soon for that. But I’ll already be seeing so little of him with the season, I can’t allow myself to pass on such opportunities.
“What do you want us to say?” he asks.
“They already know that we went to high school together. So we can tell them we met there and dated for a while. But I don’t think I want them to know we were married. Not yet.”
“Right. That makes sense.”
“So, we’ll tell them you’ve come as a friend. They’ll probably guess what’s going on, but as long as we don’t make it official, they shouldn’t make a fuss about it. I don’t want us to become the center of attention on Cynthia’s day.”
“And your joint birthday.”
“Right.”
“All that sounds perfectly reasonable. But are you sure you can keep your hands off all this, princess?”
He motions at his body, and I shove his shoulder with a giggle before rolling to the edge of the bed. “Okay, I have to shower and start working. You may stay in bed and recuperate from your morning performance, champ.”
I give his carved stomach a couple of taps, then jump up just as he tries to grab my wrist to lure me back in. His eyes are on me the whole time I walk toward the bathroom. I can feel the slick mix of our pleasure coating my upper thighs, which I know he’s probably noticed.
Deciding to give him a little show, I bend at the hips to pick up a discarded bra from the floor, offering him an unobstructed view of what he did to me.
His low grunt confirms my success, and I resume my walk without turning around. He’d see the smile splitting my face in half and know it was all on purpose. Though he’s probably already aware, because he joins me as I’m settling under the warm water.
“We’re just showering,” I warn him when his hands come to my hips.
“Killjoy,” he mumbles. “Can we compromise on a temperature that won’t give me second-degree burns?”
I roll my eyes and shake my head. “Men and hot water … Actually, Nathan didn’t mind when—”
His hand grips my jaw, and he forces me to look back and up at him. “But did he fuck you so good you teared up from the pleasure?” he asks, eyes dark.
I shake my head as much as I can given his hold.
“That’s what I thought.” When he gives me a kiss, I’m surprised by how tender it is compared to his firm grip. “Now, don’t talk about other men when my cum’s still leaking out of you, Evie. Unless you want me to fuck it right back in and add some more.”
Another surprisingly sweet kiss, and he lets me go. I’m a little shaky as I turn the temperature knob down. “Better?”
“Yes. I’ll take one of your lava showers the day I see you in an ice bath.”
“You take those?”
“Of course. After almost every race. It’s great for muscle recovery and to cool off.”
“I see.”
“Now, I’ve been raised well, and I clean up my messes. So let’s get to work, shall we?”
Still behind me, he grabs the showerhead from its holder. The moment I see him turning the head to try a few functions, I know this won’t just be a shower.
This man is insatiable …
When he settles on one, which is perfect for what he has in mind, and brings the stream of water between my legs to “clean up his mess,” I don’t complain, though.
No, I lean into him as his free hand spreads me open with his index and middle fingers while the water hits the exposed fold with the perfect pressure.
And when he finds my clit, I let out a small gasp as I shiver against him.
Today, yet again, I can’t find it in me to say no to him.
We’ll see about tomorrow, but I doubt it.