Chapter 25 Callum
callum
He was unraveling. I could see it. Feel it. And mon Dieu, it was addictive. -Aurélie
Suzuka was alive. Electric. Legendary. Dangerous. Not my favorite, but close.
But I wasn’t thinking about Suzuka. I was thinking about her. And the way she felt pressed against me.
The heat of her thighs locked around my waist. The taste of her mouth. The sharp pull of her fingers in my hair. The way she fucking moaned into the kiss—
Jesus fucking Christ.
I shifted in my chair, gripping my to go cup of tea tighter, trying to shake off the lingering sensation of her body melting into mine.
Across from me, Marco was talking, but I hadn’t heard a single word.
“Mate,” he said, tilting his head at me, his dark eyes flashing with concern. “You good?”
I cleared my throat, forcing my shoulders to relax. Play it cool. I was fine. So fucking fine.
“Yeah,” I lied, lifting my cup like that proved my point. “Why?”
Marco studied me for a beat before smirking. “Don’t know. You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Or, I don’t know, got your world rocked this morning.”
I choked on my drink. “What?”
Marco laughed, shaking his head. “Relax, Fraser. You’re twitchy today. Maybe you should get laid.”
Too late for that advice.
I exhaled, running a hand over my jaw, trying to erase the memory of Aurélie rolling her needy pussy against me.
Get your fucking head together.
“She’s fast,” Marco said, breaking the uncomfortable silence.
I blinked at him, trying to act normal. “Who?”
Marco gave me an unimpressed look. “Dubois.” He gestured vaguely toward the Luminis garage. “You saw her times in FP1. She’s giving the midfield hell.”
I nodded, forcing a small grin. “Yeah, she is.”
Marco raised an eyebrow. “You’re not worried about her, are you?”
“Worried?” I scoffed. “No. Impressed? Definitely.”
Marco smirked. “Right. You know, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you’ve got a bit of a soft spot for her.”
“It’s not like that,” I said quickly, taking another sip of my drink.
Marco hummed like he didn’t believe me. “Sure, mate. Whatever you say.” He took a sip of his coffee, smirk widening. “Just don’t let her beat you on Sunday. Your ego won’t survive it.”
I didn’t respond, mostly because I was too busy trying to shove the damn woman out of my brain.
Marco pulled out his phone, scrolling, before snorting. “You see this yet?”
I glanced over. It was a compilation of fan edits from Shanghai, set to some dramatic pop song. Clips of Auri battling for P3, the champagne spray on the podium, and the now-infamous shot of her smirking at me during weigh-ins. The caption read:
FRABOIS RIVALRY OR SOMETHING MORE?
I snorted, shaking my head as I leaned closer to get a better look. “Rivalry or something more? What’s that even supposed to mean?”
Marco grinned. “It means the fans are eating this shit up. You and Dubois are trending more than the actual Constructor’s standings.” He said it like this justified whatever he thought he saw between us.
“They’re reading way too much into it,” I muttered.
Are they, though?
Marco arched an eyebrow. “You’re the one who posted about her podium, mate. Practically handed them fuel for the fire.”
“She deserved it,” I said automatically. “She worked her ass off for that P3, and half the grid won’t even acknowledge it. Someone had to say it.”
Marco’s grin widened. “Ah, the noble Callum Fraser, defender of the underdog.”
“Shut up,” I muttered, pulling out my phone to look at Aurélie’s comment on my post that I’d left unresponded to.
@aurelie.dubois47: Hope you’re ready for more of it. ;)
I hesitated.
Typed out one response. Deleted it.
Typed another. Too obvious.
Fuck it.
@cal_fraser19.96: Always ready. Don’t keep me waiting.
I was sure the fans would have a hay day with these comments. They were probably already freaking out, thinking there was something more there than there actually was.
I locked my phone like that could keep me from thinking about her, shoving it back into my pocket before Marco could make another comment. But his knowing grin told me I wasn’t getting out of this unscathed.
Marco raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it, but he let it slide. “So, when are you going to ask her out?”
“Don’t start,” I warned, though my tone lacked conviction as I thought about our coffee date. If you could even consider it a date.
“It’s cute, really,” Marco continued, ignoring me entirely. “The big, bad four-time world champion getting all flustered over the rookie. Makes you almost human.”
All I did was grunt as I did my best to stuff my feelings into a box and lock them away for good.
Marco’s laughter was still ringing in my ears as I yanked my phone out of my pocket, telling myself I was just checking the time. Just getting away from his smug face and his endless teasing.
I didn’t expect her message. But fuck—there it was.
Aurélie
You looked good this morning… best performance.
My stomach fucking dropped.
Blood rushed to my ears. My brain short-circuited, dick twitching at just two words on a screen. I read the words like they’d rearrange, like they’d give me an out I knew wasn’t coming. They didn’t. Because this wasn’t about the run.
Best performance.
Christ.
Heat licked up my spine, pooling low in my gut as the memories slammed into me all at once. Her breathless moan against my mouth. Legs locked tight around my waist. Nails raking down my back. Fingers in my hair. Her body rolling against mine like she wanted me to fuck her then and there.
Fuck.
I could not be thinking about this right now.
But she’d made me.
I should ignore it. Should leave her on read, let her sit in it, pretend it hadn’t happened—just like we said. Except my fingers were already moving, the devil on my shoulder working faster than my common sense.
You say shit like that, people might think you’re still thinking about it.
There. That was good, right? That was casual. Flirty, but not obvious. Definitely not giving away the fact that I shifted in my seat, subtly adjusting the way my fucking joggers sat because of her message.
I locked my phone, gently placing it on the table in front of me, and exhaled hard.
“Uh-oh,” Marco said, sipping his coffee like this was a fucking show for his entertainment. “That bad, huh?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
He grinned, tilting his head toward my phone. “Mate, you just looked at your screen like it personally offended you.”
“It didn’t.”
“It did,” he said, way too smug. “Dubois?”
I said nothing.
Marco whistled. “Ohhhh, yeah. You’re in trouble.”
I grabbed my tea and chugged the rest of it, like maybe it would help. It didn’t. I was still fucking thinking about her. And I had a feeling she knew it.
Aurélie
I could say the same to you, Fraser. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you enjoyed it. But I do know better, because I felt it, so…
That was it. That was the message that nearly fucking ended me.
My grip locked around my phone. Jaw clenched, thighs tense, cock aching like she’d touched me again. Enjoyed it? Fucking enjoyed it?
We were not having this conversation right now. Not here. Not with Marco sipping his coffee and watching me fall apart like I was some pitlane punchline.
I needed to pivot. Fast. Before I lost control and said something I couldn’t take back.
Don’t push too hard in FP2. Wouldn’t want you to embarrass me.
There. Safe. Neutral. That was me pretending I hadn’t spent half the morning thinking about how her body felt against mine. And for a second, I thought I’d won. Thought I’d steered us back onto solid ground, and I could go back to focusing on FP2.
Aurélie
Wouldn’t dream of it. Gotta let you have your moment of glory while it lasts. You know, because you haven’t had enough of those.
Bring it, Dubois. Just don’t get used to standing above me on the podium.
I sent it and locked my phone, dropping it onto the table like it burned me.
Marco laughed suddenly. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look that flustered.”
“I’m not flustered,” I snapped. Too fast. Too sharp.
Marco just laughed harder. “Yeah, keep telling yourself that. I’ve never seen you blush before.”
I clenched my teeth and muttered, “I need a fucking drink.”
Marco smirked. “More like someone better to do.”
And then her final message came through.
Aurélie
Above you, under you. What’s better if I’m winning both ways?
I stopped. Holy. Fucking. Hell.
Marco peered over my shoulder. “Oh, you’re so fucked.”
Yeah. I knew.