Chapter 175 Aurélie #2
She made a face, but it didn’t stop her from raising her eyebrows, clearly impressed. “Was it like... gentle and sweet? Intimate? Because you look like you’re about to run off to a chapel.”
“God, no.” I flopped back onto the pillows and closed my eyes, sighing.
“Not to the running off to a chapel bit. That I’d do in a heartbeat.
” Merde, I sounded like a lovesick teenager.
“It was filthy. Like, he barely said a word. Just picked me up, put me where he wanted me, and ruined me. One of those blackout, out-of-body, did-I-just-see-heaven orgasms.”
There was a long pause. Long enough that when I glanced at her, I saw realization flicker across her face.
Then Ivy muttered, “Bitch.”
I grinned. “I know.”
She rolled her eyes and reached for my brow pencil. “You’re a whore, and that’s disgusting.”
“Don’t act coy,” I shot back. “You love it. A feminist sex icon in a field of misogynistic men? You said it yourself: it’s editorial gold.”
“Unrelated,” she declared, waving a hand in the air.
“And you’re deflecting.”
Ivy sucked in a breath. “Deflecting what?”
“You,” I said, eyes narrowing. “You think I don’t notice how you practically short-circuit when Marco so much as adjusts his sleeves?”
Her face went bright red. It was a startling sight to see the usually poised, unbothered Ivy Sinclair flustered. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh mon Dieu.” I slapped a hand to my forehead. “You’ve been blushing all afternoon, Ivy.”
“I did not!” she whisper-shouted, horrified. “You’re hallucinating. That’s the drugs talking.”
Pulling myself to my knees, I jabbed a finger in her face.
“It’s not the drugs, bébé. It’s the truth.
And you need to talk about it. Speaking from experience, having no one to talk to about this shit will eat you alive.
” She pursed her lips and looked away. I sighed.
“Fine. I’ll keep talking about my sex life then. ”
I removed my bunny heating pad and dropped it on the bed, then yanked Callum’s hoodie over my head, leaving me in just a white cropped tank top and bike shorts.
I tugged the hem of my shorts down. Her eyes flew wide as she took in the sight of fingerprints mottling my hips, red stripes across my ribcage, a handprint on my inner thigh—the one Kimi so kindly pointed out earlier.
“Want me to describe what he was saying when he put them there?”
“Bloody hell, Aurélie. You’re a goddamn menace.”
“And you’re in denial.”
“Nothing happened,” she insisted through gritted teeth, but her voice wavered.
“Mhm,” I hummed, straightening my shorts. “So you begging Marco not to leave your side during the Morel altercation was nothing?”
Ivy’s mouth opened and closed a few times before she glanced over at the door, partially ajar.
The boys were in the living room, low conversation filtering in.
The murmur of three distinct male voices, the occasional clink of ice against glass.
Kimi’s laugh, Marco’s dramatic commentary, Callum’s low timbre as he said something I couldn’t make out.
It made my skin prickle and my heartbeat skip, and I wondered if that feeling would ever go away.
I rolled my eyes and stood, a wave of dizziness hitting me so strongly that I rocked back on my heels. Thankfully Ivy didn’t notice, not with her attention still on the door. I crossed the room once the wave passed and poked my head out.
“Cal, mon amour?” I called out softly.
He was leaning back on his elbows against the kitchenette island, and immediately turned his head.
His eyes softened when he spotted me, and he straightened instantly, as if his spine answered to the sound of my voice before his brain could catch up.
The tension in his shoulders melted, replaced by something warm and unguarded, like I was the only thing in the room that mattered.
He looked at me like a man who would walk through fire barefoot if I asked, like he was grateful to be asked.
“Can you bring me the dresses, s’il te pla?t?”
A tiny, crooked smile tugged at his mouth. “Anything for you, baby.”
“Oh my God,” Kimi groaned from his spot on the couch. “You two.”
“Swear to Christ,” Marco added, “every time he talks to her like that, my blood sugar spikes.”
Callum ignored them completely, gathering the bags without breaking eye contact with me, like I’d cast a spell over him.
Just like he said I had. Maybe that’s what love did when it was this fucked-up and holy.
His gaze lingered on my bare legs, drifting upward to the red welt peeking out from beneath my top. His nostrils flared slightly.
“I’ll be right there,” he said, voice low and edged with warning.
I grabbed the garment bags from him and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. “Merci,” I said before I ducked back into the bedroom, grinning as the door closed.
Ivy muttered, “Jesus. Now that was disgusting.”
I hung the bags up in the closet, then turned and pressed my hand to my chest. “He’s just such a good boy. So helpful.”
“Do you have him trained or something?” she asked, still staring at the door like he might materialize through it again. “Is there anything you two aren’t into? I feel like if I opened that door right now, I’d walk into an altar and a ball gag.”
I threw my head back and laughed, flopping back onto the bed and gripping my bunny like it was a stress ball. This thing had been through hell and back with me for years now, it was basically a pacifier. “The gag’s for me, not him.”
Her mouth dropped open. “You’re deranged.”
“Maybe,” I said with a shrug. “But at least I’m honest about it. You, on the other hand—” I pointed the bunny at her like a weapon—“get weird every time Marco so much as breathes in your direction. So what’s that about?”
Ivy groaned, collapsing back onto the mattress beside me. “It’s nothing. He’s… Marco. Charming. Annoying. Infuriatingly attractive in that smug-bastard way. And he keeps showing up when I don’t want him to.”
I smiled knowingly. “Mhm. That’s not nothing, Brit. That’s chemistry. Dangerous, combustible, PR-nightmare chemistry. There is no ignoring it. One day it’s going to explode and you won’t be able to stop it.”
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I know I make fun of your sex life like I’m above it all, but the truth is, I like experimenting too.” Her voice softened. “It’s just… been a long time since I’ve felt safe enough to.”
I blinked at her, surprise flickering through me like a lightning strike.
“And…” She hesitated, then dragged a hand through her hair and sat up again. “You know how Marco was the one who caught Morel getting handsy with me, right?”
My stomach turned. “Yeah. I heard.”
“I guess I just—” she broke off, staring at the makeup brushes scattered across the duvet, fidgeting with the handles.
“I just felt safe with him after that. That’s why I didn’t want him to leave me in the Orion garage.
Not because I’m some simpering damsel. Just because it felt like he saw it.
Saw me. And he didn’t make it weird or fragile or…
anything. He was just there. Steady and protective. ”
I reached out and squeezed her wrist.
“But Marco isn’t a long-term commitment kind of guy,” she went on, a little too quickly, licking her lips almost nervously.
“And come on, Aurélie. I’m not getting any younger.
I’m already two years older than him—almost thirty.
I’ve got a biological time clock the size of Big Ben, and PCOS is going to make it a nightmare to have kids as it is.
I don’t have time to sit around waiting for him to grow up and decide he wants the white picket fence package. ”
My chest ached. “Ivy…”
She let out a bitter laugh. “It’s stupid.
We’ve only seen each other a handful of times outside of the paddock.
Once during mass in Barcelona—completely by accident.
Another time at that media event in Austria.
Then again at some charity dinner in Rome a couple weeks ago.
” She picked up a contour brush and twisted it between her fingers.
“And then… he just started popping up everywhere. Like I’d blink and there he was.
Same flight. Same cafe. Same stupid book in his hand like it was the most normal thing in the world. ”
A slow grin split my face in half. “He reads?” I wondered incredulously.
“No. He pretends to. His attention span’s a disaster.
But he holds the book like it’ll impress me.
” Her cheeks flushed faintly. “And God help me, it works. My girly little brain tells me he’s hot and reads—mate for life, and my body is on fire for him, but I also know he’s emotionally unavailable, catastrophically flirty, and allergic to commitment.
Like… he probably thinks pillow talk is admitting he watched a sad movie once. ”
I snorted before devolving into a full fit of giggles, and after a minute, she busted out laughing too. The sound echoed off the walls. She clutched her stomach, and it was a full-blown wholesome girl-talk moment. One I think we’d both been desperately needing for far too long.
“You like him,” I said once we’d both recovered.
“I don’t want to,” she snapped, and then sighed.
“I used to be so fun, you know? I used to have a lot of sex. I’m basically a pro in seduction and using my assets to get what I want.
And I like it rough. I like being handled.
I like being told what to do sometimes. But I want more.
I want to explore kink. I want someone to see me and still touch me like they can’t get enough.
And I know I act like none of it phases me, but… ”
“But…?” I urged.
Her voice dipped, almost inaudible now. “I just don’t have anyone to talk to about any of this. So this is weird for me. Being this honest.”
I swallowed the sudden lump in my throat, scooted closer, and bumped my shoulder against hers.
“Well, now you do. And for the record?” I looked over at her, dead serious.
“You can be the most intimidating, unshakable bitch on the grid and still deserve softness. Still deserve safety. Still deserve to get your back blown out on a semi-regular basis by someone who knows how.”
She burst out laughing again and smacked me with a pillow.
“I’m serious,” I insisted, grinning. “You deserve everything you’re too afraid to ask for. We both do.”
Ivy’s eyes watered, a rare show of solemn emotion from her. “How did you learn to do that?”
I tilted my head, caught off guard. “Do what?”
“Ask for what you want. Say what you need. Be seen like that.”
I chewed the inside of my cheek, then let out a breath.
“I don’t know. Maybe because Callum didn’t let me run away when I tried.
He just… stayed. No matter how messy or moody or manic I got, he stayed.
And it made me want to stay too. Everything has just kind of evolved.
We’ve let it flow only when we were ready. ”
“You’re lucky.”
“I know.” I smiled softly, then after a beat added nonchalantly, “By the way, that pillow was under my ass last night when he fucked me stupid.”
Ivy shrieked and hurled the pillow across the room like it was contaminated. “AURéLIE.”
“What?” I shrugged. “It’s a very supportive pillow. Has a surprising amount of bounce back.”
“Gross. You’re gross.”
“You’re the one who touched it!”
She flailed her arms like she was trying to shake something off. “Oh my God, I think I got dick aura on me!”
I doubled over laughing. “It’s not contagious—unless you count magical weenie syndrome.”
Ivy lost it. “Weenie?! What are we, twelve?”
“I panicked! What else was I supposed to call it? Have you ever been spiritually rearranged? That’s a magical weenie moment.”
“Stop saying weenie!”
“Weenie. Weenie. WEE—”
She tackled me with another pillow to the face, both of us dissolving into full-blown, mascara-smudging cackles.