Chapter 7 #2
“No panties on right now, or did ye forget already?” Just to serve as a reminder, the hand on my hip slid down until his thumb dipped beneath the hem of my romper.
He kissed that place behind my ear he’d clearly mapped as a weak spot.
“Where’s your mind at?” he asked quietly, so tenderly my heart flipped. “Scale of one to ‘très chillée’?”
I rolled my eyes, but the question landed where it needed to. “About a six,” I said. “Four every time I remember Lucy is coming. Three when I think about Ivy. One when I think about the rumors.”
He pressed a kiss to the corner of my lips. “So, don’t think about any of it.”
“Easier said than done, mon amour.”
“Right,” he murmured,“which is why I need you to relax for me, baby.”
His fingers plunged back inside me, deep and fast, and I gasped, arching into him.
My hands flew to the edge of the counter, searching for something to hold onto as his other hand squeezed lightly at my throat, keeping me anchored while he fucked me slow with his fingers—again and again, working that spot until I was trembling.
“The world gets whatever access we decide to give them,” he said, voice almost too calm for what his hands were doing to me. “Same goes for anyone else.”
I whimpered, thighs tensing, and he leaned in closer.
“I know, baby. I know you’re so worked up right now,” he murmured, condescending and sweet all at once, like I was some overstimulated little thing he had to soothe through it. “You’ve been wound up since that call. Need me to help you come back down, yeah?”
Oh mon Dieu, he was literally talking me through it.
“My therapist will love that you talk like this now,” I said lightly. “Boundaries king.”
“I’m not a king,” he muttered, curling his fingers again. “I just finally know what I’m willing to walk away from, because there’s something worth running to.”
He meant racing. Contracts. Everything he’d built his life around. The part of me that had spent a decade chasing this sport still flinched every time he implied it. The rest of me—the part that had crawled out of blood and grief and found a home in his hands—knew exactly what he meant.
He’d walk away from all of it before he let it eat me alive again.
His thumb pressed flat against my clit, fingers plunging deeper as he ground his palm up against me just right.
Just. Right. And then I shattered. My spine bowed, a cry caught in my throat as the orgasm tore through me, legs shaking, body fluttering around his hand like I was trying to hold him inside even as I came.
He kept going through the aftershocks, coaxing every last ripple out of me like drawing them out was his favorite hobby, watching me fall apart in his grip.
When he finally withdrew, I felt empty and utterly wrung out. I blinked dazedly at him as he brought his fingers to his mouth and licked them clean.
“Putain,” I rasped, vaguely aware that my romper had ridden up. Callum looked devastating. Like a man who had just dragged his woman to heaven and still wasn’t done.
He took one step back and let his gaze rake over me, satisfied. Then, both tender and cocksure, he said, “There’s that bliss I was looking for.”
He reached for a dish towel and gently patted the inside of my thigh where his fingers had left a mess, then hung it back on the oven door, like I wasn’t still wrecked and blinking. Then he smoothed the hem of my romper back into place and kissed my forehead. Just once. Just because.
“Stay put,” he murmured, nodding toward the stove.
“I don’t want you to resent me,” I blurted, eyes on the simmering sauce he was stirring now so I wouldn’t have to see what that admission did to his face.
He set the spatula down and turned to face me. “If I resent anything, it’ll be the years I spent pretending this wasn’t what I wanted. Not you. Never you.”
That split me wide open. It always did when he said things like that without blinking, like it wasn’t scary to want me that much. My fingers curled around the edge of the counter. I wasn’t sure what to do with the way my heart hurt with love for him.
He slid his fingers under my chin and tilted my head enough to meet his gaze.
Steady and sure, with that new softness I still hadn’t gotten used to.
“Resenting you for a decision I made of my own volition would be childish,” he said plainly.
“Besides, do you know how excited I am to watch you become a champion? To actually support you, fully? I’ve done my time.
I’ve had my moments. And if I miss the adrenaline, I’ll go do Le Mans.
Or rally. Or something stupid and fast that doesn’t make me miserable. ”
My throat went suspiciously tight. “You’re very annoying when you’re emotionally mature,” I sniffed.
He tapped my nose before turning back to the stove to stir the sauce again. “You picked this,” he reminded me. “In sickness and in health, in trauma and in therapy.”
“In sexcations and in scandals,” I added, sliding off the counter to sidle up next to him. I adjusted my romper, then wrapped my arm around his waist.
“In spreader bars and in group holidays,” he agreed solemnly, leaning into me. I took the spatula from his hand and set it down, then placed the lid over the pot.
A laugh ripped out of me, louder than it had felt since the call. Okay. Maybe I was more than a six. So I told him that.
“Tu sais toujours ce dont j'ai besoin.” You always know what I need. “I’m a solid eight now. Très chillée.”
He made the most delighted noise. It was somewhere between a scoff and a boyish chuckle, eyes crinkling. “Très chillée,” he teased. “God, I love when you French at me.” Then, after a beat, a little quieter, he whispered, “I love you, full stop.”
He squeezed my hip. “Sauce just needs to simmer now for a wee bit, yeah?”
“Oui.” I planted a kiss on his cheek and twirled away, swatting his ass as I went.
Callum startled like I'd hit him with a live wire. He froze, then slowly turned, brows raised, jaw slack in exaggerated offense.
There was a half-second of stillness before he lunged.
I shrieked, bolting for the hallway toward the extra rooms and bathroom, the hem of my romper flying, laughter bursting out of me so hard I nearly tripped over my own feet.
He chased me like we were teenagers, not two emotionally damaged adults engaged and barefoot in a Grecian villa with pasta on the stove and a full-blown scandal on the way.
I rounded the corner with him right behind me, catching my wrist and spinning me back into his arms. His breath hit my neck as we both collapsed in a fit of chaotic, giddy laughter.
“You are asking to get ruined on every surface in this place,” he panted, pressing kisses to my jaw, my temple, my shoulder.
“And you said this was about simmering, not sex,” I gasped between giggles. “Liar.”
He groaned. “We are literally unwell.”
I sighed contentedly. “And we were left unsupervised.”
We shuffled back to the kitchen, still laughing, Callum wrapped around me from behind like he had no plans to let go. His chin rested on my shoulder, arms loose around my waist. Just as I reached to stir the sauce again, his phone buzzed on the counter.
Then again. And again.
The screen lit up with a flood of notifications, one after the other, a rapid cascade of messages too fast to be anything casual.
We both froze.
“Is that…” I started.
“Group chat,” he said, already reaching for it. “They’re active.”
I wiped my hands on a tea towel and leaned in as he opened the thread.
the greek olympics
Ivy
touch down
marco is already testing my will to live
Marco
I BOUGHT SNACKS!!!
Kimi
Airplane food does not count as snacks, mate.
Marco
How else was I expected to survive this flight with Miss Priss PR Princess?
Lucy
Y’all really didn’t need to add me to a group chat. Are we sure it’s a good idea??
Marco
Nope
Ivy
absolutely not
Kimi
Definitely not
Lucy
Ok as long as we’re all on the same page.
No but for real how do I know I can trust y’all
A snort escaped me. “She’s going to fit in just fine,” I murmured.
Another notification chimed.
Ivy
my entire job is keeping these horny hoes out of the press.
have you seen any stories recently about their sex scandals?
Lucy
Just Aurélie’s article. Guessing those were from Callum’s hands?
(Also, hi Aurélie, I’m still a HUGE fan)
Marco
HAHAHAHAHAHAHA
Callum & Aurélie (from Callum’s phone)
He was helping me complete the look. -A
Also, thank you.
Lucy
Oh. BLESS. Lol.
Question. We’re all in this ride share together. Why don’t we just talk?
Marco
How would Dubois and Fraser stay in the loop?
Kimi
Ew. Calamari is sharing a phone now.
Ivy
do i have to remind all of you to behave? for once, i would like to be the one misbehaving.
Lucy
Purrr
Marco
IVY. I swear to fuck, if you don’t turn your caps back on, I will tell everyone what chapter of Red Flagged and Red Lace was YOUR SUBMISSION REQUEST.
Ivy
you wouldn’t
Marco
Try me. Turn your caps back on like a normal, functioning GROWN UP.
Callum & Aurélie
Popping in to say that it’s nice to see drama that isn’t ours. K thanks. Byyyyeeee. -C
Ivy
20M ETA
Marco
you know i love it when you’re a brat
My stomach dipped.
Callum bumped his shoulder against mine. A shiver slithered down my spine. “Twenty minutes,” he said calmly. “We can handle that.”
“That’s enough time for me to spiral twice, check Instagram three times, and accidentally like a conspiracy reel from four days ago,” I said.
“Which is why you are not touching your phone,” he said.
“I’m a grown woman.”
“You are a brat with a Wi-Fi connection,” he corrected. “Catastrophize later, baby.”
“Fine,” I said.
“Stay in your bliss,” he said.
“Stop making that sound hot,” I complained.
“There is nothing about you coming that’s not hot.”
I sighed, but the anxiety in my chest had eased again, pushed back by his ridiculous certainty. Friends. Pasta. Then war, probably. But at least we’d be going into battle full.
Callum kept my mind busy by conversing. Small topics while he kept subtly refilling my wine glass. I didn’t mind.
“Marco outed a praise kink in the group chat, Cal, and I don’t like that you just brushed right over that,” I said, my head floaty from wine on an empty stomach.
“I didn’t brush over it,” he said dryly. “I filed it away for weaponization at a later date. Preferably when he’s trying to act like he’s the emotionally stable one.” He lifted his wine to his lips, then added, “Besides, I’m not surprised. Marco’s been a good boy since Silverstone.”
I nearly choked on my sip. “You should tell him how proud Daddy is when they get here.”
As if summoned by the thought, headlights swept briefly across the far edge of the terrace. Gravel crunched faintly in the distance.
I stilled. “That… might be them,” I said.
He listened for a second, head tilted, then nodded. “That’s the drive,” he confirmed.
Suddenly I was acutely aware of everything—how short the romper was, how bare my feet were, how warm the ring was where it rested against my skin. I curled my fingers into my palm on instinct.
“We’re okay,” he said softly. “Remember?”
I swallowed. “We’re okay,” I echoed.
“Bliss, baby.”
“I suppose that’s better than vicodin and vibes,” I grumbled.
His brows pulled together. “What?”
Car doors slammed outside. Voices drifted faintly from the entry, overlapping and familiar—Marco’s dramatic volume, Ivy’s sharp reprimand, Kimi’s low, amused rumble, and one new thread of sound, higher and a little breathless. Lucy’s American vowels rounded out the mix.
“Well,” I said, standing so fast my barstool scraped back. “Time to be très chillée.”
“You’ve never been chill a day in your life,” Callum teased, rising more slowly.
“And yet,” I said, smoothing my hands down the romper, “I am about to fool an entire Grammy-nominated virgin and three professional liars. Watch me.”
He stepped in front of me before I could bolt for the door, adjusting the strap of my romper where it had slipped, fingers warm on my shoulder.
“Hey,” he said quietly. “One more thing.”
“What?”
He dipped his head and kissed me, slow and sure, right there in the soft kitchen light. No tongue, no heat, just a grounding press of mouths that said this is real and this is ours and whatever comes through that door doesn’t get to take this away.
When he pulled back, my lungs felt steadier. My hand was still in his.
“Now we’re ready,” he said, just as a sharp knock echoed through the villa.