43. Reed
After we left Sweden and I said goodbye to Eloise and Wilder’s family, I thought things might be awkward between Wilder and I.
After what happened at the hospital and on the roof, I wasn’t really sure where we stood, especially since I snuck out of his bed before dawn.
Except things have been the opposite of awkward, and Wilder is acting like our fight never even happened.
We flew into Mexico City and were inseparable, and not just because I barely left his side due to it being a race weekend.
No, the second we arrived, Wilder ensured our rooms were next to one another with a connecting door.
Then after everyone went to bed, he snuck his way into mine, and the whole week has been a blur of us between the sheets.
Now if someone asked me for details, I could give them the important ones, like where Wilder placed and what sponsorship obligations he completed, but none of them truly matter to me.
No, the only thing that matters to me is Wilder, and it’s becoming a problem.
Because somewhere between the rooftop in Sweden and my hotel room in Mexico City, we’ve stopped pretending we aren’t in this thing together.
I could say this is a bit of fun until I am blue in the face, but we both know I’m lying, and what’s worse, everyone else knows it too.
Knox and Beckett have stopped making jokes about us fucking, because apparently it’s no fun anymore, and Matt has taken to covering for us any time we show up late.
And I wish it mattered, I wish their support and love made a difference, but it doesn’t.
Because despite the stolen moments, late nights and quiet mornings, I still know that this will all end.
Not maybe, not just eventually, but soon.
We’re in Toronto now, the penultimate weekend before the final in Las Vegas next week, which means the season is about to end.
And when it does, I’ll go back to New York, propose to Eloise, and my father will get what he’s always wanted.
A dutiful son. The press will get their fairytale engagement, the family business will get its perfect heir, and Wilder will become just another secret I never wanted to keep.
The thought should hurt less by now, since I know it’s inevitable, but somehow it doesn’t. If anything, it's getting worse, because the more time I spend with him, the harder it becomes to pretend this is temporary. The harder it becomes to convince myself I'm not already in too deep.
A bit of fun, that's all this is, a bit of fun.
The lie has become so familiar I barely catch myself repeating it anymore. Unfortunately, the more I say it, the less I believe it, because people don't look at a bit of fun the way I look at Wilder, and they definitely don't spend every waking moment trying not to fall in love with it.
Squashing those thoughts down deep into the abyss of my heart, I focus back on work, back on Wilder, well in the professional sense that is.
It’s Friday now, and he and the guys are completing their free practice slot around the track.
They always choose one of the latest slots that others tend to ignore, so they can practice together as a team.
“How's my boy looking out there?” Mr. Miles questions, pulling me from my focus on Wilder.
“He’s looking good, sir,” I reply, making him roll his eyes, considering he has told me a hundred times to stop being so formal.
“I still can’t believe his first season is almost over, it feels like we only just started.”
Yeah, neither can I.
“He’s had an amazing run, he’s in an excellent position for next year, with all the sponsors and brands.” I force the words out as casual as possible, trying not to show how proud I am of him, and his father grins.
“Don’t suppose I can convince you to come back out with us next season?” he asks, shoving my shoulder playfully. “He’s not the only one who has done an excellent job.”
I showcase my polite smile and shrug. “Maybe, who knows where I’ll be then,” I reply with ease, even though I know exactly where I’ll be. Married to my best friend, and no doubt working a job at my father’s company.
The thought makes me sick to my stomach, and I have to force myself to swallow thickly, and before Mr. Miles can say anything else, my phone begins to ring. When I pull it out, I spot Freddie’s contact name flashing across it, and panic swirls deep in my gut.
“Excuse me, Mr. Miles, I have to take this.”
I walk off without even waiting for his answer, stalking toward Wilder’s dressing room, knowing it’s the closest spot I can get a little privacy as I accept the call.
It takes a couple of seconds for my brother’s face to appear on my screen, and each one feels like a lifetime, as a thousand scenarios run through my mind.
“Reed!” he beams, smiling wide, and my heart settles in my chest at the sight of him.
“Freddie, hey, are you okay?” I ask, the panic still too fresh for me not to ask him that question, and he nods.
“Yeah, you told me to call you after my visit to school,” he replies, sounding confused, as he pans the phone down to his welcome bag and pack.
It’s only then I realize today was his planned visit to his new middle school he’s starting next month.
“Oh my bad, of course, I forgot it was today, how was it?”
He’s going to be attending the same private school I did, alongside most of his friends, and of course they offer private orientation sessions for all upcoming students' families to attend and see what they are spending their money on.
Not that I would want him to go anywhere else, The Hallows Academy is the best private middle school on the east coast, and I know he will continue to thrive there.
At my question, Freddie beams with a wide smile and nods. “Yeah, Mom took me and we met all my teachers and saw my classrooms and stuff, it was really great. Plus I saw most of my friends there, so I wasn’t too nervous.”
“That’s awesome, I’m really glad, and I’m sorry I couldn’t be there.”
Freddie only shrugs. “That’s okay.” He brings his arm up to push his hair back, showcasing the cast still sitting there.
“How’s your arm?” I ask, the question feeling like acid on my tongue, and his eyes darken, just like every time I ask about it.
“It’s okay, Mom said my cast can come off in a couple of weeks.” His tone of voice now sadder, and I fucking hate it, but it reminds me why I’m doing what I’m doing.
“Well hey, I’ll be home by then, so why don’t I go with you?” I ask, desperate to make sure he’s okay, and his eyes widen in surprise.
“Really?”
“Sure, we can get your cast off and then go out for lunch at that diner you love, how does that sound?”
“That would be awesome.”
After that we talk a little back and forth, before my Mom calls up to him to tell him dinner is ready.
We say a quick goodbye, and the second the screen goes black, my heart begins to ache in my chest. I sit and stare at my phone for I’m not even sure how long, but it’s long enough for Wilder to find me.
“Hey, everything okay?” he asks, and when I look up to meet his stare, it’s only then I realize he must have been calling my name.
“Yeah, everything is fine, I was just FaceTiming with Freddie.” If I thought my words would settle him, I was wrong.
“Is he okay?” His question is too firm to be casual, and I can feel him assessing every part of me.
Sometimes it’s easy to forget that when you have been wearing a mask so long, that some people fought their way past it. Wilder knows the darkest parts of me, the horrors of my family, and still he isn’t looking at me with pity right now. No, it’s pure rage.
“It was his orientation day visit to his new middle school, he just wanted to chat, he’s good.” I stand up and erase the space between us, pulling him in close and breathing him in. “How was practice?”
Wilder’s hands instantly fly to my hips, gripping me in the same possessive way he always does.
“It was fine, same old really.” He shrugs, searching my eyes, as if double checking that I’m really okay.
“Are you coming for dinner with me and the guys?” he adds, and even though I know I shouldn't, I nod.
“Sure, I could do with a steak, some wine, and listening to Matteo brag about his conquests.” I reply, and he smirks.
“As long as he doesn’t mention your name, otherwise your steak will come with a side of blood.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“I think you mean pragmatic,” he corrects, and I shake my head.
“You’re insufferable, Miles.”
“And you love it, Blue.”
I don’t respond, because I can’t. Because I’m too scared that he’s right.
By the time we finish dinner with the guys it’s getting late, and I can feel Wilder’s lust-filled eyes watching me. We all head back to the hotel and I feel his stare on me all the way up to our rooms.
When I reach my door, he brushes past me, pausing ever so slightly to whisper in my ear. “I’ll give you ten minutes, then your pretty hole better be in my room, begging to be fucked.”
Heat rushes through me instantly at his words. “And if I’m not?” I call out as he moves toward his door, and he looks over his shoulder at me and grins.
“Then you won’t get your surprise.”
Fuck.
Damn that irresistible asshole.
I let myself into my room and have the quickest shower and prep of my life, my cock at half mast the entire time, as I anticipate whatever Wilder may have planned for me.
He fucks me like a damn god every night, and I don’t expect anything different, so I quickly get changed and then move to our connecting door.
I only knock quietly, but still I hear his firm response instantly.
“Come in.”
Pressing down the handle, I find the door unlocked, so I slip inside and close it behind me firmly, my eyes finding Wilder’s instantly. He’s sitting on a sofa in the corner of the room, in nothing but a pair of black sweats, sipping on a glass of whiskey.
I move toward him instantly, but he halts me with one hand in the air, making me pause. “Not so fast, Blue, only good boys get their rewards.” His voice is dripping with nothing but command, and my heart starts to race in my chest.
“And how do I be a good boy?” I ask, desperate to please him anyway I can, and he nods his head toward the bed.
“By putting that on for me.”
I follow his stare, finding a sleek black box seated on the end of his bed, and for a second I simply stare at it.
It’s tied with a beautiful, black satin bow, and my pulse begins to stutter.
“You bought me something?” My voice trembles, my heart thundering in anticipation, as I feel his stare still burning into me.
“I did.” Two words, that’s it, but his voice curls around me fiercely, and I can tell whatever’s inside, is something he’s desperate for me to have.
Licking my lips, I reach for the box, slide the bow off the outside and take off the lid.
I peel back the tissue paper, careful not to rip it, revealing a black lace bodysuit folded with impossible precision.
Delicate, expensive, absolutely stunning, so stunning in fact, that I am almost afraid to touch it.
It’s too much, especially when I pair it with everything else he has already got for me.
“Wild…” I start, not even sure what to say, but when I meet his stare, his eyes are an inferno.
“Put it on for me, Blue.” His command is gritted through his teeth before he takes another sip of whiskey, and that’s what it is. A command, one that has him holding on by a thread, before I know he will inevitably snap.
Fuck, I want him to snap.
Swallowing thickly, I gently pick up the fabric and clutch it against my chest. “I’ll change in the bathroom,” I say, moving toward the door, but I only make it two steps before his voice stops me.
“No.” I pause, glancing over my shoulder to find his expression steady and unreadable. “You’ll do it here,” he muses, taking another sip and watching me over the rim. “Come on, pretty boy, put on a show for me.”
My heart hammers against my ribs as I nod once, not because he ordered me to, but because, for the first time in a very long time, I realize I trust someone enough to let them see the parts of me I've spent years trying to hide. He sees me, the real me, the one I’ve spent years trying to suppress, and worse, I think he likes that version of me better than the one I show the world.
Wilder watches me with an intense stare, as I slowly take off my clothes until I am completely naked before him.
My fingers tremble as I set my clothes neatly over the back of a chair, in a way that is ingrained in me.
I don’t even notice I do it anymore, my father insisted on that kind of thing when I still lived in his house.
He always hated any kind of mess. Everything had its place and everything had rules, everything except me of course.
No, I was the one who broke all the rules by just existing, and the only place he could put me was in the closet.
If he could see me now he would make the only kind of mess that didn’t get under his skin, marring my own in blood and bruises.
It has the lace in my hand feeling tight, as I let it slip between my fingers until I find the opening where I need to step into it.
I inhale slowly, trying to quiet the voice in my head that insists this isn’t me, that I shouldn’t do this, but when I look at Wilder again, he is looking at me like I am the most beautiful thing he has ever seen.
I pull on the bodysuit, slipping the lace over my shoulders and adjusting it carefully, until it sits exactly where it's supposed to.
The fabric is softer than I expected, delicate against skin that's grown far too used to bruises and expensive dress shirts, and it’s only once I have my body fully covered that I realize the suit has no crotch.
Both my cock and ass are fully out, while the rest of me is covered in pretty fabric.
Wilder hasn’t moved a muscle, and there is no smirk, no amusement, just pure unfiltered hunger, and for me of all people. He’s on track to be one of the most famous racers on the planet, and with a face like that, he could have anyone he wanted, and yet here he sits.
Feeling confident under his gaze, I do a slow turn, making him curse beneath his breath. "I knew it'd suit you," he says almost absentmindedly. "Didn't realize it'd make me forget how to speak." He downs the rest of his drink and swallows it in one gulp. “Fuck, Blue, you look fucking exquisite.”
I preen under his compliment, knowing he is nothing but sincere, before I clear my throat. “Now you’ve dressed me up, what are you going to do to me?”
My question hangs in the air, making him smirk, as he slowly pours himself another drink. “It’s what you’re going to do for me,” he grunts, eyes sparkling with mischief and desire. “On your knees, Blue, crawl over here and get my dick nice and wet like a perfect little slut.”