Chapter 32 #3
Sloane peeled the last scrap of fabric away with deliberate slowness, cool air hitting slick skin for only a heartbeat before her mouth returned.
Sloane settled between Reese’s thighs, her shoulders nudging them wider.
The first slow, flat drag of her tongue made Reese’s whole body jolt, a current snapping through her.
The second drew a broken curse from her lips.
Sloane took her time with long, languid licks that explored every inch, circling her clit with featherlight pressure before sucking gently, rhythmically, building Reese higher until her thighs shook violently and her hands clawed at the sheets, knuckles white.
The orgasm hit like the lights out on a grid.
Her back arched sharply off the bed, a raw, shattered cry tearing from her throat as pleasure crashed over her in blinding waves.
Sloane didn’t pull away until the aftershocks ebbed to soft tremors.
She pressed tender, open-mouthed kisses to each inner thigh before crawling back up to claim Reese’s mouth again.
“Oh, don’t think we’re done yet,” Reese whispered against her lips, already rolling them so Sloane lay beneath her. “Not even close.”
Sloane laughed—soft, breathless, the sound vibrating against Reese’s chest. “Thought you were tired.”
“As if that would ever matter.” Reese’s hands roamed everywhere—cupping the warm weight of Sloane’s breasts, thumbs circling pebbled nipples until Sloane hissed through her teeth, then sliding down to shove Sloane’s jeans and underwear off in one impatient tug.
The fabric caught briefly on Sloane’s ankles before she kicked it free.
When Reese’s fingers finally slipped between Sloane’s legs, she found her drenched—hot, swollen, slick enough that Reese’s breath caught.
“Jesus,” Reese breathed, fingers circling slow, teasing, gliding through wetness that coated her hand. “You feel amazing. So ready for me.”
“Been thinking about this all day,” Sloane admitted, hips rocking up into the touch with a needy little roll. “Watching you fight for every position … knowing I’d get to feel you like this after.”
Reese slid two fingers inside her, taking her slow and deep, curling just right against that sensitive spot that made Sloane whimper.
Her thumb pressed steady, firm circles over Sloane’s clit.
Sloane’s head fell back against the pillow, her neck exposed, another cry spilling out as her hips rolled to meet every thrust. Reese matched the rhythm of Sloane’s body, deliberate and unhurried, as she kissed the column of her neck.
“Come for me,” Reese murmured against that racing pulse. “Let me feel you.”
Sloane did—hard and sudden, thighs clamping tight around Reese’s hand, her whole body bowing off the bed as pleasure ripped through her in shuddering waves.
Reese worked her through it, bringing her down gently, her fingers slowing but never stopping until Sloane’s gasps melted away and her muscles relaxed.
“Come here,” Sloane said.
They collapsed together, limbs tangled, breaths ragged and mingling in the quiet room.
Reese pressed lazy kisses along Sloane’s shoulder, up the side of her neck, to the corner of her mouth.
Sloane’s fingers traced idle, soothing patterns up and down Reese’s spine, nails grazing just enough to raise pleasant shivers.
“I love you,” Reese whispered, voice already thickening with sleep but arms tightening like she’d never let go.
Sloane kissed her temple, lips lingering. “Nowhere else I’d rather be. I love you, too.”
Reese shifted closer somehow, tucking herself more fully against Sloane’s side.
Outside, the city hummed faintly beyond the windows, distant and unimportant.
In the quiet cocoon of the room, the night felt suspended—no races to worry about, no expectations waiting for them in the morning, just the steady rhythm of two heartbeats.
Sloane brushed her thumb along Reese’s arm one last time before sleep claimed her. Reese was left marveling at the simple truth of it all. After everything—the distance, the doubt, the chaos of the season—they had found their way right back here.
She drifted off like that. They were spent and happy and wrapped tightly around each other, the world outside dimming while the certainty between them burned warm and bright.
The next morning in Barcelona arrived slowly, the city still quiet beneath a pale wash of early sunlight. From the balcony of the small hotel suite, Reese could see the tops of palm trees swaying along the boulevard and the faint shimmer of the Mediterranean beyond the rooftops.
She stepped outside with two cups of coffee balanced carefully in her hands.
Sloane was already there, leaning against the railing in one of Reese’s oversized team sweatshirts, her hair still a little sleep-tousled. She turned when she heard the door slide open.
“Morning,” Reese said, handing her a cup. “Please always wear my clothes.”
“Morning.” Sloane took it, fingers brushing Reese’s in a small, familiar touch that made Reese smile. “I can make this deal.” She snuggled further into the shirt as if it was her favorite.
For a while, they stood there without saying much, watching the city slowly wake up. The street below was still quiet, except for a singular delivery truck rumbling on its way somewhere. Nearby, the smell of bacon and eggs from the café on the corner wafted over.
Reese exhaled, stretching her shoulders. “Hard to believe yesterday was real.”
“You mean the part where you carved through the field like it was a Sunday drive?” Sloane asked lightly.
Reese laughed. “That’s not how it felt in the car.”
Sloane glanced at her. “It looked exactly how it was supposed to.”
Reese leaned her hip against the railing beside her. The quiet between them had always felt so easy, like they’d been together their whole lives. Reese adored that part of them. They just fit.
“You heading back to California after this?” Reese asked.
Sloane nodded slowly. “Yeah. A few remote meetings. Some work to catch up on.” She took a sip of coffee, then looked out toward the water again. “Venice Beach is going to feel very quiet after this weekend.”
“Because I’m so chatty?” Reese tilted her head in a playfully exaggerated display.
“Well, you are that. But I happen to love it.”
Reese huffed a small laugh, reflecting. “Quiet sounds pretty good right now, if we’re being honest.”
“Baby. You need to unwind on your days off. Really take advantage so you can come back renewed and refocused.”
“I need to do a better job of that.”
Sloane was quiet for a moment.
“You know,” she said eventually, “drivers always need a solid home base.”
“Yeah,” Reese said. “Somewhere to leave your stuff for three days before the next airport.”
“Somewhere warm and comfortable that feels like a true home.” Sloane glanced at her. “You’ve basically been living out of a suitcase for years.”
“Yeah. Part of the job.”
“Maybe,” Sloane said. “But it doesn’t have to be the only way.”
“Okay.” Reese tilted her head. “What are you getting at?”
Sloane shifted so she was facing her fully now, one elbow resting on the railing.
“You could use Venice Beach as your base,” she said. “Between races.”
Reese blinked.
“Come back with me when you’re not on the road,” Sloane continued, voice steady but warm. “Leave your gear there. Your clothes. Whatever you want.”
Reese studied her for a second, the meaning settling slowly. Wonderfully.
“You realize,” Reese said, carefully, “that sounds a lot like you’re asking me to move in.”
Sloane’s mouth curved. “Yeah,” she admitted. “I guess it does.”
Reese let out a soft breath, glancing out toward the distant line of the sea. For so long, her life had been airports, hotel rooms, and temporary addresses that never really belonged to her.
But the thought of Venice, of sunlight on the Pacific, of Sloane waiting there, felt different. It felt like something solid.
She looked back at Sloane and slipped her hand into hers.
“Good,” Reese said quietly. “Because having somewhere to come home to sounds pretty great.” Sloane squeezed her fingers, her smile easy and certain. “Especially if it’s with you.”
Sloane was quiet for a moment after Reese finished speaking. The city hummed below them, but the space between them felt strangely still.
“Reese,” she said softly.
Something in her tone made Reese turn fully toward her.
“I need you to know something.” Sloane rested her forearms on the balcony railing, then reached for Reese’s hand like she needed the contact to say the next part. “I’ve been thinking a lot about the future lately. About what this life looks like for you, and what it means for me to be part of it.”
Reese’s chest tightened slightly, but she held Sloane’s gaze.
“I know racing is chaos,” Sloane continued. “Flights, time zones, pressure, the whole world watching. And I know there will be hard moments. For both of us.” She paused, her thumb brushing slowly across Reese’s knuckles. “But I’m not here temporarily. I’m not dipping a toe in to see how it feels.”
Reese’s heart kicked hard, and her palms tingled.
“I’m in this,” Sloane said quietly. “For the long haul. For the messy parts, the scary parts, the incredible parts. All of it.” She took a breath, her voice softening even further. “I’ve never been this certain about anyone before. But I am about you. I love you that much.”
For a second, Reese couldn’t speak. The words settled over her slowly, but when they did, they landed deep. She’d spent years moving forward at full speed—career first. Relationships tried to keep up, but never quite could. She’d told herself that was just the price of the life she’d chosen.
But Sloane wasn’t trying to keep up. She was choosing to stand beside her.
Reese squeezed her hand. “Good,” she said softly.
Sloane’s brow lifted slightly. “Good?”
“Yeah.” Reese smiled, a little crooked but full of something steady and real. “Because you should probably know something too.”
“And what is that?”
Reese looked out toward the Mediterranean for a moment, gathering the right words, before turning back to her.
“I’ve experienced love,” she said. “But never like this. Never with someone who makes everything feel … clearer. Like the rest of my life actually makes sense with them in it.”
Sloane’s eyes softened.
“You’re it for me,” Reese said simply. “However long this crazy career takes me around the world, however many races are ahead … I know, with absolute certainty, that I want you at the end of every one of them.”
For a moment, neither of them moved.
Then Sloane leaned forward and kissed her, slow and certain, the kind of kiss that you remembered.
When they pulled apart, Sloane’s smile was softer now, but brighter. “Well,” she said, “in that case …”
Reese squeezed Sloane’s hand, the decision settling into her chest faster than she expected. It didn’t feel reckless or rushed.
It felt right.
Sloane bumped her shoulder lightly. “Looks like I’m going to have to clear out some closet space.”
Reese smirked. “You’re the one who fell for a woman with a designer jacket problem.”
“That wasn’t a problem.”
“Oh?”
“That was one of the selling points. Because you know I’m going to wear them.”
Reese shook her head, smiling, and leaned her forearms on the balcony railing beside her.
Barcelona stretched wide and bright below them now, the city fully awake in the morning sun.
Somewhere down the street a scooter buzzed past, and the smell of fresh bread drifted up from a bakery in the distance.
In a few days, Reese would be back in the car again, chasing hundredths of a second around another track somewhere else in the world. That part of her life wasn’t slowing down. But for the first time in a long time, it didn’t feel like everything.
Reese glanced sideways at Sloane, who was watching the city with that calm, thoughtful expression she always wore when she was taking the world in.
Loving her had changed something fundamental inside Reese.
For years, racing had been the center of everything. It had been the goal, the obsession, the thing that made every sacrifice make sense. Airports, hotel rooms, missed birthdays, lonely nights staring at unfamiliar ceilings. She’d accepted all of it as part of the deal.
But somewhere along the way, without Reese even realizing it, Sloane had become the reason the rest of it mattered. All of it led back to her. To someone waiting at the end of the race.
Reese reached for Sloane’s hand again, lacing their fingers together. She looked down at their hands. “We just fit,” she said simply. The sentence she’d never get tired of saying.
Sloane turned toward her immediately, smiling that soft, certain smile Reese knew she’d spend the rest of her life happily chasing.
“And you’re really feeling okay with all of this?” Sloane asked.
Reese pulled her closer and kissed her, slow and easy, the kind of kiss that didn’t need urgency anymore. Instead, she used it to communicate every damn thing she was feeling.
“Yeah,” Reese murmured when they parted. “I’m more than okay. I just can’t believe this entire year. I’m happier than I’ve ever been in my life.”
“Me too.” Sloane rested her forehead against Reese’s and sighed a happy sigh. “Venice is going to look so good on you.”
Reese smiled. “Yeah,” she said quietly. “If it means I get to wake up next to you every morning, in our home, then it definitely will.”
“Our home,” Sloane breathed. “Best words ever.”
Below them, Barcelona hummed with life, the rest of the season stretching ahead with more races, more flights, more hangouts with The Starting Grid in someone’s hotel room. But for the first time since she’d climbed into a kart as a kid, Reese knew exactly where the road would lead her back to.
And she couldn’t wait to get there.