Chapter 30 #2
I lean into his ear, my lips grazing the shell of it. "You're needy tonight."
His chest vibrates with a soft chuckle. "You know I'm needy all the time when it comes to you," he whispers, his lips finding my cheek for a feather-light kiss that leaves my skin tingling. "Can't help it."
The words hit deeper than they should—a reminder that while I've been keeping us at arm's length for the sake of the team, for our careers, for appearances, he's been wanting, waiting, hoping. The unfairness of it squeezes my heart.
I run my hands up his back, appreciating the muscles there, memorizing the contours I haven't touched in far too long.
His curls brush against my temple as he presses his face into the crook of my neck, breathing deeply as if trying to inhale my scent to carry some part of me with him when we inevitably have to separate again.
We fit together perfectly—his height just right against mine, my head tucking neatly against his neck when he pulls me close.
It's always been this way between us; this physical synchronicity that defies explanation.
As if our bodies recognized each other before our minds caught up, before our circumstances complicated everything.
His fingers trace up and down my spine, each movement deliberate, reverent. Not demanding, not urgent—just appreciating the simple fact that I'm here, that for this moment at least, we don't have to pretend. Here, we can be just Violet and William.
"We shouldn't be doing this," I say, the words lacking any real conviction. "Not here. Not with the race tomorrow."
"Probably not," he agrees, his lips now trailing along my jawline with exquisite slowness. "But I couldn't wait another day. Needed to hold you."
His admission breaks something in me—some final resistance against the tide of emotion that's been building since he pulled me into his room.
I capture his face between my palms, thumbs brushing over his cheekbones, fingers tangling in his hair.
His beard is soft against my skin. His eyes are wide, surprised at my sudden movement, then darkening as he reads my expression.
"Violet," he breathes, my name sounding like salvation on his lips.
I don't answer with words. Instead, I press my mouth to his, no longer gentle, no longer tentative.
He responds instantly, arms tightening around me as he walks us backward, step by careful step, deeper into the room.
Neither of us breaks the kiss, neither willing to separate even for the seconds it would take to look where we're going.
Still holding each other, we stumble toward the bed and tumble onto it together.
The mattress dips beneath our weight, and William immediately adjusts, pulling me against him like he's trying to erase any space between us. His arms wrap around me tightly, his body curving to fit mine perfectly. He buries his face in the crook of my neck again, breath warm against my skin. He holds me like something precious. Like something he doesn’t want to lose.
The desperation in his embrace sets off a warning bell in my mind.
"Will," I murmur, stroking his hair as he nuzzles against my shoulder, "what's going on? Talk to me."
He doesn't lift his head, just shifts to position himself more comfortably against me, one leg thrown over mine, his arm draped across my waist. His hand finds its way under the hem of my blouse, resting warm against the bare skin of my side—not sexual, just seeking connection.
"I just want to be with you tonight," he says, voice muffled against the fabric of my blazer. "Or for a bit."
The simplicity of his answer doesn't match the intensity of his embrace. I pull back enough to see his face, my fingers caressing his cheek, the soft scratch of his beard against my palm. His eyes meet mine, hazel depths swimming with emotion he's trying to contain.
"I'm going to come clean about us after this race," I say, the words falling from my lips before I can second-guess them. The decision wasn't planned, but now that it's spoken aloud, I recognize it's been forming for weeks.
William's eyes widen, his body going still against mine. "You're… sure?"
There's no judgment in his question, no pressure—just genuine concern for what this means for me, for us, for everything we've built.
"I'm one hundred percent sure," I say, watching his face carefully. "I don't just miss you right now. Being close yet so far hurts like hell, you know?" My voice softens, vulnerability creeping in despite my best efforts. "First time feeling this... feeling this deeply."
I swallow hard, struggling to articulate what he's come to mean to me. "William—"
His lips capture mine before I can finish, swallowing what I was about to say.
His kiss is gentle but insistent, hands cradling my face like I'm made of glass.
I melt into him, my body remembering his—the way we fit, the rhythm we've created together.
We move slowly, our kisses deepening, breath quickening.
His touch remains reverent, worshipful, fingers tracing patterns along my jawline, my neck, my collarbone.
He smiles against my lips between kisses, small breaks where the curve of his mouth gives away the happiness radiating from him. It's so achingly sweet that I find myself smiling back, our teeth nearly clicking together, which makes him chuckle.
"You're dangerous," he whispers, pressing his forehead to mine. "Absolutely lethal to my sanity. But also exactly what I need." His voice drops even lower. "Exactly who I need."
"Smooth talker," I tease, fingers playing with the curls at the nape of his neck. "Is that how you got all those trophies back at your place? Charmed the competition into submission?"
He laughs, the sound vibrating through his chest and into mine. "Only works on incredibly brilliant, independent to a fault Team Principals, apparently."
"Lucky me," I say, stealing another kiss, this one quick and playful.
"Lucky us," he corrects, his eyes serious despite his smile.
We lie there trading soft kisses and touches, each one a wordless conversation.
I trace the line of his jaw, the curve of his shoulder, the dip of his collarbone visible above his T-shirt collar.
He draws patterns on my back, occasionally venturing to my hip, my waist, but always respectful, always gentle.
"I'm sick of running away," I admit after a particularly sweet kiss leaves me breathless. "Belforte was right. Not defining what we have... It's giving others ammunition to do that for us. I thought I could control it but I can’t and I hate it." I take a deep breath. "So I'm going to come clean."
We shift positions, sitting up on the edge of the bed side by side, facing the large windows. The blue-tinted darkness of Monaco's bay stretches before us, yachts twinkling like fallen stars on the water's surface. William slips an arm around my waist, pulling me against his side.
"And what are we, Violet?" he asks softly, his breath warm against my ear as he pulls me to his lap and back-hugs me. His chin rests on my shoulder, his arms encircling my waist from behind.
"We're both in love, aren't we?" The question hangs in the air, simple yet monumental. My heartbeat accelerates as he presses a soft kiss to my neck.
"I thought I was the only one, Vi," he whispers, tightening his embrace, his lips brushing my cheek.
My heart hammers so hard, I'm certain he can feel it through my back pressed against his chest. "I'm not kidding anyone, William," I say, my voice steadier than I feel. "If anything, I'm a fucking coward for avoiding what is inevitable."
"Inevitable?" he echoes, the word warm against my skin.
I exhale slowly, letting down the last of my defenses. "You've softened me," I confess. "Made me think about more than business, more than running in the hamster wheel of work, legacy and success. Made me want things for myself. Things I never thought I deserved."
William gently turns me to face him, his hands warm on my shoulders. "And what are those things, Violet?" His eyes search mine, patient but intense.
I meet his gaze directly, no longer hiding. "You, William. I want you with every fiber of my being."
His face transforms with a bashful smile that makes him look younger, almost boyish in his happiness. He ducks his head, nuzzling against my neck as he tightens his hug. "Took us so long to get here," he murmurs, his words muffled against my shoulder.
"I'm sorry," I say, running my fingers through his hair. "For my indecision. My lack of commitment. For letting fear keep me from embracing the most precious thing to happen to me in the past decade."
He pulls back, his expression serious as he kisses my cheek. "I'd wait a lifetime for you, Violet," he says simply. "Even when it hurts. My heart's been yours since the start. I don't want anyone else but you."
The sincerity in his voice, the absolute certainty in his eyes—it breaks something open inside me. He lays back again, pulling me with him, his arms encircling me as he kisses me deeply, slowly, with purpose.
"I love you, Will," I whisper against his lips when we break for air. "I do. With an intensity that scares the hell out of me. Because I’ve never felt this in my life."
He chuckles, the sound vibrating through his chest. "I'm right here to help you navigate that fear.
" He traces patterns on my back. "We can start with a list of things scarier than loving me.
Heights. Snakes. Dominic in a thong. Did you see those photos last summer? That was the stuff of nightmares."
I smack his chest lightly, laughing despite myself. "That image is definitely terrifying. Thanks for that mental scar."
His eyes dance with mischief, but beneath the playfulness, wonder peeks through. His fingers continue their gentle exploration, tracing my jawline, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, his touch feather-light and reverent.
"Can I..." he starts, then hesitates. "Maybe this is stupid or I'm rushing, but..."
"What?" I encourage him, curious about what could possibly make this confident man suddenly uncertain.
He takes a deep breath. "Can I have the privilege of calling you my girlfriend?" The question comes out in a rush. "If you want to entertain that dream of mine. If you..."
I silence him with a kiss, firm and decisive. "Yes," I breathe against his lips. "You should. I'm yours, William."
His arms tighten around me, pulling me fully against him. "I'm so happy that..." he begins, then trails off with a sheepish laugh as he hardens against my thigh. "Sorry about that."
"Don't apologize," I say, my smile turning wicked as I shift against him deliberately. "If anything, I'd be offended if you'd been flirting and sleeping with me for the past year and then went limp the moment I confessed my feelings."
His laugh is sudden and loud, his whole body shaking with it. The sound transforms his face, wiping away the vulnerability, replacing it with boyish delight that crinkles the corners of his eyes.
"Fair point, very fair point," he manages between chuckles.
He moves his hands lower on my body, one sliding down to cheekily cup my ass.
"It has been a long time since we've been together," he says in a husky whisper.
"And I should let you get some sleep, because tomorrow, there's a race.
.." His fingers flex against me. "And yet, temptation is in bed with me.
" His smile turns mischievous. "My girlfriend. "
He practically giggles on the last word, looking so pleased with himself that I can't help but poke his dimpled cheeks. "You're adorable."