Page 122 of Racing for Redemption
“I got you something,” she says, a hint of nervousness in her voice. “When I was in Egypt for a prospective sponsor meeting.”
My heart kickstarts. A gift? From her? I take the package from her, our fingers brushing in the exchange, and I’m suddenly self-conscious standing here in just a towel, while she’s watching me with those intense eyes.
"You're blushing, William?"
"No…" I use the gift as an excuse to divert my gaze from her to the floor. I unwrap it carefully, not wanting to tear the paper. Inside is a set of Formula 1 shorts and a T-shirt—pajamas that almost match hers.
“I saw them and thought of you,” she says, a slight flush creeping up her neck. “Ridiculous, I know—”
“I love them.” The words burst out before she can finish. I hold the set against my chest, something warm and soft spreading through me. It’s not the gift itself, though that’s nice—it’sthat she thought of me when she was halfway across the world. That she saw something and wanted to share it with me. And there I was, wondering if she was regretting what we have.
Without hesitation, I drop my towel and pull on the shorts, then the T-shirt. The material is soft against my skin, comfortable. I turn in a circle, arms outstretched.
“Well? How do I look?”
Her gaze travels from my face down to my toes, then back up, lingering in certain places that make heat pool in my stomach.
“You look…” She pauses, her teeth catching her bottom lip. “Adorable.”
I grin, stupidly pleased by the compliment. “Adorable enough that you’re blushing right now?”
Her flush deepens. “I’m not blushing. It’s hot in here.”
“Mmm-hmm.” I step closer, touching her cheek with my fingertips. “So, it has nothing to do with how good I look in these pajamas?”
She rolls her eyes but doesn’t move away from my touch. “Your ego needs no stroking, Foster.”
“There are other parts of me that wouldn’t mind your stroking,” I tease, delighted when she laughs and pushes me away.
“Insatiable,” she mutters, but there’s a fondness in her voice that makes my chest ache.
“Just like you, and we both know it.”
She drops her robe and slips into her matching pajamas. The sight of her in something so casual, so unlike the polished suits she wears in the paddock, is a privilege.
“I have a couple of things to give you, too,” I say, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. “Back in the UK, though. I didn’t know I’d be seeing you like this in Monaco.”
“Things, plural?” She raises an eyebrow. “Setting a dangerous precedent, William.”
“Maybe.” I reach for her hand, pulling her to stand between my knees. “Or maybe, I just like seeing your face when you’re surprised.”
Her expression softens, and I take my chance.
“Come to my place in the countryside after we get back. For a weekend during the summer break.” I squeeze her fingers gently. “You can bring a novel you want to read, but no computers. And smartphones are confiscated at the entrance.” I try to keep my tone light, though my heart is hammering. “I want some time. Just us.”
She opens her mouth, and I expect a deflection, an excuse about work. Instead, she nods. “Okay, deal.”
Those words send a wave of joy through me so intense, it almost hurts. I stand, wrapping my arms around her waist and pulling her into a hug that tries to say all the things I’m not ready to voice, because I'm afraid I'll scare her away. I bury my face in the crook of her neck, breathing in the clean scent of her skin.
“You know I’ll hold you to that, right? Also, you have a couple of hugs to cash in.”
“Now, who’s bossy and demanding?” Her chuckle is so soft, warm and… I want to hear it all the time.
“Maybe you’re rubbing off on me, I don’t know. I do know that you rub—” Her finger stops on my lips.
“No, nope, let’s not make this a dirty talk session, okay? That’s awkward as hell.” And yet, during sex, she has the dirtiest mouth out of both of us, even if we're quite vanilla.
I chuckle and hug her. “Thank you,” I murmur against her neck, pressing a kiss to the spot where her pulse jumps. “For the gift. It’s perfect.”
