41. Aurélie
Callum tugged my panties back into place with a gentleness that stole my breath all over again. I didn’t open my eyes yet, just let the fabric slip over my skin. The soft pull of his hand coaxed me to roll over in the grass. I let him guide me, still dazed, limbs loose and uncooperative.
There was no way I could make it through this photoshoot now. I probably looked like a disaster. I was supposed to be ready when I walked in there, and I just had to go fuck around.
When I blinked my eyes open, the stars above were blurry. Maybe it was from the orgasm, maybe from the way he looked down at me as if I was something sacred. I didn’t care either way, because all I felt was bliss and peace.
He pulled me to my knees until I was falling into his arms, both of us kneeling on the grassy hill, flushed and breathless beneath the Spanish night sky.
The views of the track were spectacular from here, illuminated by track lights that didn’t quite reach our hidden spot.
I curled into his chest, heart still racing.
His scent wrapped around me—sweat, cologne, sex—and made me feel like I was home.
His pulse thudded under my cheek, steady and sure.
I felt… safe. Even with everything working against us—our teams, the PR nightmares, FIA regulations—I felt like a woman in the fullest sense. Soft, feminine, ravished, worshipped .
Callum held me tighter, resting his chin on top of my head, and for a long, breathless moment, neither of said a word.
We basked in the quiet of the night, for once not surrounded by the chaos of this life, and soaked in the privacy.
It felt like being in public without all the pressures, and I caught a glimpse of what a future with him could look like.
Some day.
Then I heard the faint tick of his watch, and we both shifted until we could see the glowing hands.
“Merde,” I cursed, laughing under my breath. “Time’s almost up.”
“Mm,” he hummed. “What a way to spend half an hour.”
I giggled. “Such a good boy for always running to me, mon amour.”
“Don’t test me right now, Aurélie. I’m about two seconds from making you a no-show to your photoshoot.
” That was when I noticed he was deliberately bringing his hips nowhere near me.
I stifled a laugh. Before I could pull away, his arms slipped under me—one at my back, the other beneath my knees. “Come on. I’ve got you.”
“Cal,” I said softly, startled, but he was already standing, lifting me as if I weighed nothing at all. My heels dangled from one of his fingers, sparkling like little stars of their own. “You don’t have to carry me.” I rested my head against his shoulder and let my eyes close.
“You look too pretty to make that walk back,” he said, voice low and full of heat. “Besides, I think I’ve ruined you enough for one night.”
My heart toppled, and I wondered how this all happened. Callum wasn’t the kind of man I ever expected to show interest in me. Now I just had to find a way to keep him.
He walked without hurry, steps confident and sure, as if this wasn’t the biggest scandal waiting to happen on the grid this season. As if we weren’t balancing on the edge of public image and personal desire. As if the whole fucking world wasn’t watching.
But in this moment? It wasn’t. It was just him and me. The air between us still hummed, our clandestine moment safe under the cloak of night. I wished this could be a normalcy for us.
I exhaled slowly and lifted my head. “There’s a back entrance,” I whispered, guiding him. “The one I used earlier to sneak out. There aren’t any cameras, and no one is around at this hour.”
He nodded once, not breaking stride. “Point me there.” I did, the warm breeze disappearing as we made our way through the rows of motorhomes and buildings. The real world was waiting, but I would always be his.
Somehow, we were going to make this work. Even if right now it was only in these quiet, private moments.
He was worth the risk, and if we played it smart… maybe the world didn’t have to know yet. This could be ours.
One thing was certain: I’d never forget this night.
Callum stopped in the shadows just before the door, setting me down with care like I was glass he wasn’t quite ready to let go of. The second my feet touched the ground, the spell shifted. The night didn’t feel like ours anymore—it felt borrowed. Stolen.
In silence, I slid my heels back on, one at a time. My legs still trembled faintly. When I straightened, I didn’t move away.
“Smile pretty for the camera, love,” he murmured with a grin that should’ve been illegal. “Let them admire your glow. Only I know what’s still dripping down your legs.”
I smirked, slow and with all wicked intentions, and reached up to brush my thumb across his bottom lip, pushing up on my tiptoes and leaning in close enough for my breath to ghost against his mouth. I knew I had him when his gaze softened.
“Don’t bother washing your hands,” I said with a rasp, watching his pupils blow wide.
“Since you’re such a good little slut for me, I know you’ll want the reminder when you’re lying there hard and alone…
my gloss still on your lips, my pussy still on your tongue.
” I pressed a gentle kiss to his jaw, his stubble rough against my lips.
“Sweet dreams, baby. Hope you dream in red.”
He stilled. Then, as if he couldn’t stop himself, his hands found my waist–holding me tight, almost desperately.
His fingers curled into my skin, throat bobbing as he stared down at me.
His eyes were molten, burning hotter and brighter than the bluest flame, but there was something else there too.
A flicker of awe . Like I’d just undone him in a way he hadn’t expected.
“Did you just call me baby ?”
That’s what did him in? Nothing else that I said?
I just blinked up at him, lashes fluttering, faux innocence on full display. “Ouais. Got a problem with it, Fraser?”
Callum’s jaw clenched, the muscle feathering in a stupidly attractive way. He looked away for half a second like he needed to reset, then dragged those eyes back to me, still searing and ravenous.
“Say it again.” His voice was gravelly, his breathing accelerating. That single word, that little pet name, had apparently reached inside and pulled something loose he couldn’t put back. “Say it again in that fucking accent that ruins me. God, please , just say it again.”
I grinned, slow and dangerous, and leaned close enough for my lips to graze his. “Sweet dreams, baby.” It was soft and syrupy sweet, all teasing tenderness wrapped in a bow just for him.
That did it.
His inhale was sharp. His hold on my waist tightened like he was losing his grip on restraint.
Then he leaned in as though I’d just offered him salvation, pressing his mouth to mine in the softest, slowest kiss I’d ever felt.
It wasn’t urgent or hungry—just pure, aching worship .
His lips moved against mine with gentle precision, a tender prodding of tongues, like he wanted to memorize the taste of me.
And then he moaned. Quiet and low, as if it hurt to let it out.
“Cherries,” he whispered into my mouth.
I pulled back just barely, breath caught in my throat. “Cherries?”
His eyes stayed closed, and he shook his head slowly, exhaling raggedly. “You taste like cherries. I’m a goddamn goner for it. Addicted.”
Before I could respond, his hands left my waist to cup my face. He kissed me again, deeper this time, pulling me closer. His tongue swept across mine in a claiming, dominant stroke.
“I’m a fucking whore for it.” Another kiss, this time filthier and needier, his teeth capturing my bottom lip and pulling. I whimpered. “For you.”
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
He pressed his forehead to mine and brushed his thumbs over my cheekbones. My entire body arched into him, melting with every touch, every lingering second we spent together.
“Aurélie,” Callum breathed, and I felt the warmth of his breath fan over my face. “I’d get on my knees for another taste. Christ, I’m yours. I’m bound to you. Enslaved by your mouth. Surrendered to the way you break me.”
I shivered against him, his words making me wish we had more than just this fleeting moment together.
“And you—you’re the fucking altar I worship, again and again, just to be ruined by you.” His lips brushed mine between every desperate word. “And you don’t even have to ask. I’d beg to do it.”
Stupid tears pricked my eyes. Pain and poetry. That’s what it meant to love Callum.
He kissed me again, open-mouthed and claiming, hands returning to my waist to haul me against all the hard planes of his body.
“You wreck me and I keep crawling back for more like I want the destruction.”
My fingers twisted into his polo, trying to hold on, but my head was reeling and my heart was soaring and I was so goddamn lost in him that I forgot the reality of our situation. I smiled through the ache, one hand drifting lower between us, cupping him through his jeans. He was still hard.
“Good boy,” I purred, letting my thumb stroke over him once, lightly.
His hips flexed forward and he released a quiet, broken sound. But then his fingers closed gently around my wrist firmly. He pulled my hand away and brought it to his lips, kissing my knuckles with reverence.
Then, softly, he murmured, “You don’t even know what you’ve done to me, baby.”
“Cal–”
“Tonight was for you, love. You’ve earned it.”
Another kiss, and it felt an awful lot like a thank you and a prayer in one.