Chapter 32 #2
Veronica nodded once toward the garage floor, where Reese was still being congratulated by half the team.
“I can’t argue with that,” she said.
Sloane watched Reese for another moment before Reese glanced up again, catching her eye through the crowd. And even from across the garage, Sloane could see the promise in her smile.
The race was over.
But somehow it felt like everything else was just getting started.
By the time they reached the hotel, the adrenaline of the night still hummed through Reese’s veins.
The elevator ride up had been quiet but charged, Sloane’s hand resting lightly at the small of her back as if neither of them quite trusted the moment to be real yet.
The hallway smelled faintly of carpet cleaner, and the space was completely still, a sharp contrast to the noise and warmth of the celebration they’d just left behind.
Reese unlocked the door and pushed it open, flicking on the lamp near the bed.
“Your brother was adorable,” Sloane said as they stepped inside.
Reese glanced back at her, smiling as she noticed the hotel had already honored their request. Sloane’s suitcase sat neatly beside the dresser where the bell staff had delivered it earlier.
“He was starstruck,” Reese said, toeing off her shoes. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him at a loss for words. Enjoy it. It was probably the last time.”
The celebration had stretched late into the evening, the team still buzzing from the race and the unexpected result that had everyone talking at once.
Not to mention, Ezra had finished in P6, pulling in additional points for Laurens.
Glasses clinked, stories grew more exciting with every retelling, and Reese found herself pulled into a steady stream of congratulatory hugs she still wasn’t sure how to gracefully accept.
“I think we’re going to do a lot of damage together,” Ezra said, touching his pint glass to hers.
Reese grinned. “I can’t tell you how much I’m looking forward to racing with you.”
Across the room, Sloane stood in easy conversation with Marissa and Delaney, one shoulder resting against the bar while Marissa animatedly told a story, her hands moving as much as her words.
Sloane laughed, bright and relaxed, and Reese felt the familiar pull in her chest that always seemed to lead her back to that exact spot.
She drifted over, still riding the energy from the race.
“There she is,” Marissa said, smiling as Reese approached. “We were just saying that drive deserved its own highlight reel. I should be heavily featured, screaming like a maniac muppet.”
Reese laughed. “I can make that happen. Did you guys see that start though? I got boxed in for a second and thought, well, that’s it, race over.”
“Oh, we saw it,” Delaney said. “Then you just kept going like some kind of contracted killer.”
“Dark,” Reese said, “but I like it.”
Sloane laughed along, their eyes meeting and holding for a moment longer than called for.
Eventually, Reese finished her drink and offered a few last grateful smiles to the people nearby.
When Sloane’s hand found hers in the easy chaos around the bar, the decision felt natural rather than deliberate. “Let me grab Luke real quick.”
She found her brother in the corner, engaged in a round of darts with some of the crew members. “I think we’re going to sneak out, but I wanted to tell you how awesome today was. Seeing your face.” She gave his chest a thump, just so he wouldn’t think she was too soft.
“I think we have a lot of great races ahead of us, Roo.”
“Oh, I think I need to hear about Roo,” Sloane said, her eyes dancing.
“So many stories for you,” Luke said, and took her hand in both of his. “And it was an honor meeting you earlier. I hope I wasn’t too enthusiastic.”
“Not at all.”
Luke looked to Reese and back. “It sounds like we have more good times ahead.”
“Yeah, we definitely do,” Sloane said.
They slipped away with quiet goodnights and soft laughter, stepping out into the cool night together, both of them perfectly content to trade the noise of the celebration for the quiet promise of time alone.
Now nestled in the quiet of the hotel room, Reese took a seat on the edge of the bed. Her body was still wired, muscles thrumming from the g-forces that left her arms heavy, but the ache felt distant now. Sloane was here. That was the only thing registering.
Sloane didn’t rush. She kicked off the heels she’d changed into for the gathering, crossed to the minibar, and pulled out two bottles of water. When she turned back, her eyes were soft, steady, tracing Reese like she was memorizing her all over again.
Reese managed a tired grin. “You’re really here.”
“I’m really here,” Sloane said, handing her one of the waters before sitting on the bed beside her. Their knees brushed. “You were unreal today. I’ve watched a lot of races, but watching you claw through that field … I forgot how good it feels to see you do that.”
“It felt different with you here again. Everything was a blur these last few races, like a part of me was missing. And it was.”
Sloane reached out, threading her fingers through Reese’s, her thumb brushing over her knuckles.
“I was thinking of you the whole time. Missing you. Every single day. I just … needed to get my head right first.” She paused, exhaling slowly.
“I did the work. Or at least the start of it. Therapy, breathing exercises, planning for when it hits, all of it. But today? Sitting in those stands, watching you fight for every tenth … it wasn’t terrifying.
I was in it. I was proud. Not just of you, but of me, because I could finally be there for you without my past choking me. It felt like a step. A real one.”
Reese’s throat tightened. She lifted their joined hands and pressed a kiss to Sloane’s knuckles. “I’m so fucking glad you’re here.”
Sloane’s free hand cupped Reese’s jaw, her thumb tracing the line of her cheekbone.
“Me too.” She leaned in and kissed her—slow at first, almost careful—then deeper, hungrier, like the month apart had finally snapped its restraint.
Reese groaned into the kiss, the sound vibrating low in her throat as her fingers tightened on Sloane’s hips, yanking her flush until their bodies locked together with a soft, urgent thud.
The weeks of absence crashed through them: every phantom brush of fingertips she’d imagined in empty hotel rooms, every clipped goodnight that had left her staring at the ceiling, every cold sheet that had mocked her loneliness.
Now it all ignited—hot, immediate, electric.
They stumbled toward the bed without breaking the kiss, mouths sliding wet and greedy.
Reese’s team jacket slithered to the carpet with a hushed rustle.
Sloane’s shirt came next—each button popping free with a tiny, satisfying click until the fabric parted and warm skin met warm skin.
The air carried the faint, intoxicating mix of Sloane’s perfume—something sharply citrus and clean—layered with the lingering warmth of sunbaked grandstands.
Reese’s mouth chased the pulse in Sloane’s throat, lips parting to taste the faint salt of the day still clinging to her skin, the rapid flutter beneath like a trapped bird.
When her teeth grazed the tender spot just below Sloane’s ear, Sloane’s breath hitched sharply—a quick, ragged inhale that sent a fresh jolt straight to Reese’s core.
Sloane’s fingers dug into Reese’s shoulders, nails pressing crescent moons through the thin tank top, urging her closer, harder.
“God, I missed your mouth,” Sloane murmured, voice rough like gravel, lips brushing Reese’s as she spoke.
Reese pulled back just enough to meet her eyes, darkened with desire. “I missed everything about you.”
Sloane pushed her gently backward, the cool sheets pressed against her now overheated skin, then crawled over her, straddling her hips. The weight of her, solid, familiar, and perfect, pressed Reese deeper into the mattress.
Reese looked up, chest heaving, the rapid rise and fall brushing her breasts against Sloane’s bare stomach. “You have no idea how many times I replayed this in my head. Just … this. You on top does me in every time.”
Sloane’s gaze darkened to near-black. She leaned down and kissed her slowly, tongue sliding in a lazy, deliberate rhythm that made Reese arch up, her hips seeking friction against the seam of Sloane’s underwear.
Sloane’s palms skated over Reese’s ribs, thumbs brushing the sensitive undersides of her breasts through the thin sports bra before tugging it up and off in one smooth motion.
Sloane’s mouth followed instantly—hot, wet, closing over one nipple with a firm suck that pulled a sharp gasp from Reese’s lungs.
Fuck, that lit her whole body up. Sloane’s fingers teased the other peak, rolling and pinching just enough to make Reese arch her back.
“Fuck—Sloane—God.”
Sloane hummed against her, the low vibration rippling straight down Reese’s belly and pooling between her thighs like liquid heat.
She switched sides, sucking harder this time, tongue flicking in tight circles before soothing with slow, broad licks that left Reese trembling, skin prickling with goosebumps.
Reese’s hands fisted in Sloane’s hair, the silky strands slipping through her fingers, as the pleasure built in thick, deliberate waves, every nerve singing and reaching for more.
When Sloane finally kissed lower, open-mouthed and unhurried, tracing the quivering line of Reese’s abs with her tongue, the muscles jumped under the wet heat.
Reese’s hips lifted instinctively, chasing contact.
She was throbbing and nearing desperation.
Sloane paused at the waistband of her underwear, breath skating over damp cotton, and looked up with that confident, knowing smile that always unraveled Reese completely.
“Tell me what you want, baby.”
Reese swallowed hard, voice wrecked and hoarse. “Everything. All of you. Don’t stop.”