17. Callum
I barely registered what my trainer was saying as I casually sipped water from my glass bottle, my mind already elsewhere, thinking of Aurélie and how she’d made pole position.
I’d known the entire season that she truly was a rival on the grid, but watching her wring every ounce of speed from her car was an impressive feat.
One I admired, and I was so fucking proud of her.
“Fraser, are you listening?” Gerard asked as he clapped his hands to get my attention.
“Hmm? Oh, yeah. What did you say?” Christ, I was way too distracted, and it was a problem. I always spent the night before a race focusing on visualizing the track, my strategy, and prepping for a victory. Instead, here I was, focusing on how much I needed to be with the grid’s rookie.
I needed her. I couldn’t spend tonight without her. I’d already spent too much time away from her.
“I said to take it easy tonight,” he repeated, and I blinked slowly at him. “You’ve been pushing harder than usual the last couple weeks. Let your body rest tonight, and save your energy for tomorrow.”
“Yeah,” I muttered, wiping my face with a towel, my breath still evening out from the final set.
I was dripping in sweat, my muscles warm and humming, but mentally I wasn’t present in the slightest. My mind was on the other side of my flat, thinking of how I’d had her on all fours just a couple days ago, listening to her moans as she took every inch.
Gerard sighed. “Alright, mate.” He clapped my shoulder and grabbed his bag. “You know what you need to do. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He left my home gym without another word, but I was already turning my attention to my phone, thumb hovering before I caved entirely.
What are you doing?
I shut off all the lights in the room and walked out, closing the door behind me as I stared at the screen, waiting for a response. The little bubbles popped up that she was typing, and then a minute later, my phone pinged, and I stopped breathing.
Aurélie
[image attached]
Stretching before my workout. Why?
The picture she sent was her reflection in the mirror of what I assumed was the hotel’s gym, but that wasn’t what stopped me dead in my tracks.
It was that she wore practically nothing—a white sports bra with a sweat spot forming between her tits, clinging to her tan skin, and hot pink spandex shorts that hugged her like a second skin.
She was leaning on one arm, one leg extended out and the other lifted impossibly high—all the way to her shoulder.
A resistance band looped around her thighs, the tension making the toned muscles in her legs flex.
Her stomach was tight, defined, glistening with sweat.
She held her phone up with her free hand, angled just right so the flash hit her perfectly and the phone blocked most of her face in the mirror.
But not her smirk. That smug little curve of her lips peeked out, teasing.
She knew exactly what she was doing—driving me out of my goddamn mind.
Taunting me because she knew I couldn’t resist her. Daring me to do something about it.
I groaned. My throat dried the longer I gaped at the selfie, blood rushing south. I was already drenched from the workout, but this? This was pure torture. Fuck this.
Are you alone?
Aurélie
Oui, obviously. I wouldn’t send you this if I wasn’t.
Aaaand there went the last of my restraint.
I dropped the towel on my kitchen counter, stalked to the coat closet by my front door, and pulled out a zip-up hoodie.
I tugged it on, grabbed my wallet and keys, and pulled the door shut behind me.
She’d texted me where she was staying earlier in the week—just in passing, some offhand comment about how the hotel gym had better resistance bands than the one at Luminis HQ.
I hadn’t forgotten. I didn’t forget anything about her.
The moment the cool Monaco night hit my skin, I started jogging. It wasn’t a calm jog, or a scenic route through the harbor. No headphones or distractions, just me chasing a goddamn high I couldn’t get out of my system. And that high was her.
Every step was a countdown, a beat of my heart that whispered her name. Aurélie. Aurélie. Aurélie.
My thighs burned from the sprint, calves tightening with every impact, but I didn’t care.
I couldn’t care. I was dripping sweat again by the time I reached the building, strolling right through the lobby like it was the most casual thing in the world for me.
It wasn’t until I was in the lift, alone, panting like I’d just come off a final lap, that I realized how fast I’d run.
The floor numbers blinked past slowly—too slow. My pulse thudded behind my ribs.
Tomorrow, the rest of the world got the driver. Tonight, I got the woman.
And I wasn’t keeping my hands to myself in private.
Not tonight.