Chapter 63
EVANGELINE
It’s bittersweet, staying at Alaric’s house all by myself. I wasn’t going to actually sleep here, honestly, knowing it would be painful.
But the temptation to hang out in my new studio was too hard to resist. Plus Mia was insistent that she had to get back to the rental house tonight.
I didn’t want to hold her up. Just like I didn’t want to reject Alaric’s hospitality outright.
And I definitely didn’t want to call a rideshare and spend an hour in a stranger’s car so I could get back to the Airbnb.
So here I am.
Stuffed from a delicious dinner and tiptoeing through the house as rain falls steadily outside.
This day has been surreal. From the fridge stocked with all my favorite foods and precooked meals to the filaments, solutions, and trinkets already organized in my studio.
The food is totally on brand for Alaric, but stocking my studio with just about every item I need to make fidgets and picky pads is beyond anything I ever expected.
I don’t even remember all the brand names and vendors I use sometimes. His thoughtfulness and thoroughness never cease to amaze me.
After ensuring the doors are locked and the security system is on, I trudge upstairs, tracing the grain of the handrail as I ascend. The higher I climb, the stronger the tug on my heart.
Being here isn’t the issue. It’s being here without him that inspires such an intense ache.
When I get to the top of the stairs, I still. I have the whole house to myself, and since Alaric didn’t leave any specific instructions, I assume I can sleep wherever I want.
Instinctively, I drift to the room on the left.
I open the door, confirming my hunch. Humming, I bring my hand to my chest. It smells like him. An invisible string pulls me forward.
This bedroom is homier than the one in Monaco. The décor is darker, its moody vibe well-suited for the storm outside. In addition to the king-size bed, there’s an enormous chair near the windows I envision him sitting in while he reads on the nights he can’t sleep.
Every surface is clear, the extra blankets and fresh towels folded on a trunk. There’s neatness and order everywhere I look. When I peek into the en suite, my heart catches in my throat.
On the counter, between the sinks, sits a slender vase holding a single red rose.
This man.
I stagger back, in a daze, until the backs of my legs hit the bed and I plop onto the mattress.
For several moments, I don’t move, Alaric’s invisible presence wrapping me in a bittersweet hug.
God, I miss him so much.
I hate that he didn’t choose me.
But as I sit alone in his bedroom, surrounded by his belongings and his scent, with only my own stubbornness and heartache for company, I can’t help but replay the last few weeks in my mind.
The incident the night of the Monaco Grand Prix was messy and arduous.
The way everything went down was honestly the worst-case scenario for everyone involved.
Mia and I have talked about it ad nauseum, trying to unpack how awful and also uncontrollable the situation was.
I had the run-in with Leslie in the elevator, and Alaric was grappling with Luca’s unexpected news.
He and I were both flustered, exhausted, and stressed to the max.
We each reacted on instinct—his gut telling him he should support Luca, like any good dad would. Mine urging me to retreat in order to protect my heart. To flee before he had a chance to figure out why I showed up at his office in the first place.
And then, when he did come after me, I doubled down.
I sent him away. Told him we could never be. Declared that I deserve more, which he wholeheartedly agreed with. He respected my choice and kept his distance, though he’s continued to show up and hold space for me like no one ever has.
If that’s not love, I don’t know what is.
I thought I had to hold back to protect my heart. But this distance is unbearable, and despite my insistence that we’re through, he’s all I want. I know deep down that the only thing standing in the way of us being together is me.
Unable to keep him at arm’s length for another second, I spring to my feet.
I want him back.
I never wanted him gone in the first place, but I needed time and space to fully unpack our whirlwind relationship and ensure I had the strength and self-respect to stand up for myself.
My heart rate accelerates as I jog down the stairs and grab a Granata zip-up from the coat rack. I have no plan, but I can’t fathom slowing down for even a second now that I’m in motion.
I pull out my phone as I stride for the back door. I guess I’ll need to call a ride share after all.
Where am I even going? He mentioned a hotel close to the paddock. It would be logical for him to stay where the rest of the team is lodging. I’m scanning my inbox, searching for anything in the latest correspondence about the Circuit of the Americas, when a pounding sounds from the back door.
Heart lurching, I pull up short. Then, hands trembling, I pull up the app to the security system and select the camera designated for that area.
When his image appears on screen, I take off.
I run through the kitchen and slide to a stop. I fumble a little as I disarm the security system, and when I yank the door open, it ricochets off the wall.
Alaric’s eyes are wide, his hair and shirt soaking wet.
Without hesitation, I pounce, wrapping my arms around him.
He stumbles back several paces, then we’re falling. He hits the ground and I land on his chest, causing him to let out a humph.
“Oh my god. Are you okay?” I cry, looking him over.
His eyes meet mine, so full of affection.
“I am now.” He weaves one hand through my hair and pulls my face down to his.
Our lips meet in an urgent kiss, every unspoken apology and missed moment over the last few weeks blending together as the rain pelts my back.
“Angel,” he breathes, chest heaving when we finally break apart.
“I know,” I tell him, pressing my forehead into his. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I pushed you away. I can’t believe I ever thought being without you was possible.”
He searches my face, longing and desperation etched into his. “We’re aligned. There’s no way I can spend my life not loving you.”
With that, he dives back in, kissing me harder.
“Wait.” He pulls away, swiping rain from his eyes. “You had time to put on a rain jacket?” he teases, tugging on the collar of the Granata zip-up. “Here I thought you were only checking the cameras.”
Laughing, I shake my head. “I did check the cameras,” I assure him, brushing his wet hair out of his face. “But I was already dressed and heading out to find you.”
He kisses me again, and I close my eyes, relishing the contentment of being back in his arms.
Out of all the ways I thought we’d come back together, I never imagined we’d end up lying in his driveaway again.
Our kisses are frantic and frenzied as we stumble into the kitchen, soaking wet and laughing so hard we’re breathless.
Cupping my face, he shakes his head slightly and sighs.
“What?” I can’t help but ask.
There’s so much weight in the way he’s looking at me right now—in the way he always looks at me. From anyone else, this level of assessment would be too heavy. Too expectant. Too intense.
But there’s so much reverence and hopefulness in his gaze.
It’s not too much. In fact, I don’t think I’ll ever get enough.
Alaric is strong and commanding; stoic and passionate.
He’s everything I never knew I wanted or deserved.
He brings balance and assurance to our relationship, creating the type of support I didn’t think I’d ever find in a partner.
“I love you so much,” he tells me, sincerity dripping off every word like the droplets falling from his soaking wet hair.
“I love you, too,” I whisper, playing with the strands at his nape.
“Hang on to that thought, angel.” He bends and hoists me into his arms. “There’s nothing soft or loving about the way I need to fuck you.”
As amusement and desire swirl inside me, I wrap my arms around his neck and cling to him.
Rather than take me upstairs, he carries me to the kitchen table and sets me on its surface.
“Here?” I squeak, gripping the edge of the solid wood.
“Here. Or on the counter. Perhaps the floor. I just need to be inside you. Now.”
He kisses me again, fighting with the zip-up I threw on, then fumbling with his own clothes. When we’re both naked, I take his length and guide him forward.
Our mutual desperation is palpable, desire coating every hydrogen atom in the air we breathe.
Being apart from him was emotionally and mentally strenuous. I didn’t realize how much I basked in his calm, steady presence until we were apart.
“Let’s never break up again.” I paint my clit with the little pearl of precum already clinging to his tip, mewling on contact and then dragging his crown through my folds.
“Never,” he vows as I guide his length into my body.
We notch in place with utter ease. The first inch is exquisite, like all the stars in our own galaxy aligning. He rolls his hips forward and sinks in a few more inches, clutching me and holding me close.
I nuzzle into his chest, holding his torso tight, urging him to slide all the way home.
“Right here, angel,” he rasps as he bottoms out. “Right fucking here.”
He captures my lips and offers another slow, indulgent kiss.
“You’re where I want to be,” he murmurs when we pull away.
My insides warm, the reverence in his expression dulling the anxious, vulnerable edges that still exist in the recesses of my mind.
We stay like that, tangled in one another, reunited in the most visceral of ways, until I can’t stand the edging anymore. I whimper as my pussy clenches.
Alaric’s responding chuckle earns him a smack to the chest.
“You promised me hard and fast, Mr. Steele.”
He hums, taking my mouth more urgently now. “That was before I remembered we don’t need to rush. We have all night.”
Licking my lips, I stare into his eyes and swallow down the lump of emotion in my throat. “We don’t just have all night. We have forever.”
“Forever.”
The word reverberates in the deepest parts of my soul.
His eyes darken, as if the promise of our future is rocket fuel in his veins. He grabs my ankles and plants my heels on the edge of the table.
“Hold yourself open for me, angel.”
I do as he asks, gripping my ankles as he smooths one hand up my stomach and chest. Pressing into my sternum, he encourages me to lie back.
Curling his hands around my shoulders, he hovers close, just the way I like. Then he fucks me hard and fast, just like he promised, on the kitchen table where we shared our first meal.