Page 2 of Close Contact
The memory hit me hard—her thighs clenching around my head, her nails carving into my back, her voice breaking in my ear when I made her come for the first time with just my mouth. That whisper of “Là…justelà,” as if she didn’t even realize she’d said it aloud.
My cock stirred just remembering it. I shifted in my seat. I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it since. It wasn’t just the way she came; it was the way shelookedat me after, as if she didn’t know whether to believe the things I’d said, as if it physically hurt to let someone care for her.
She’d kissed me with desperation, but her body had clung to me like it knew I wasn’t a threat and it didn’t want to let go. And when we were tangled in the sheets afterward, I’d traced the freckles on her shoulder like they were constellations. Maybe if I memorized enough of them, I’d understand the map to her heart.
I couldn’t stop seeing them now.
I’d spent years chasing wins and women who blurred together. But her? She wasn’t blurred. She wasburnedinto me.
When we landed, the weight of the week ahead settled on me like ballast. Monaco was beautiful but brutal. The press was already circling like vultures, and the second we stepped off the plane, the flashes started.
“Heads up,” Marco muttered beside me, holding up his phone. “They’ve already clocked her leaving your hotel room.”
He turned the screen toward me.
FRASER ANDDUBOIS: MORE THAN RIVALS?
The post hada pap shot ofAuréliein the hotel lobby. Inmyshirt.
A twinge of guilt shot through me. “That’s exactly what she didn’t need.”
“Could be worse,” Marco said. “They could’ve caught you in the bar. Or?—”
I cut him a look, but the corner of my mouth twitched. Because yeah. Ithadbeen that good.
We ducked into the waiting car, and just as the door shut, my phone buzzed with a text.
Aurélie
Landed safe. Thanks for earlier… for everything.
No fluff, no emoji, no overthinking. Just her reaching out. I exhaled through my nose, letting the tension bleed out just enough to text back.
Anytime. See you on the track,Dubois.
I meant it.
Let the press speculate. Let the team talk. Let the whole season go up in flames around me. I’d still be right here. Fighting for her, because somewhere between that first pre-season testing session and last night,AurélieDuboishad become the only finish line I gave a fuck about crossing.
And I wasn’t walking away.
TheLuminisconferenceroom may as well have been a battlefield, though the weapons here were words and glances rather than bullets. The team bosses and PR reps sat across from me, their laptops open to frozenTikTokframes. Their faces were masks of professionalism, but the judgment in their eyes was unmistakable.
“We need to address this,” one of the PR reps began, her tone clipped. She turned her laptop around, and the video began to play.
The montage was brutal.
Clips of me in the lobby the morning after the race in Italy, disheveled and wearingCallum’sshirt, played first. The logo on the corner of the fabric was unmistakable, a damning detail I’d overlooked but tied us together in the public eye. Then came shots ofCallumcelebrating his win, the same logo visible as he hugged his team. The edits grew more invasive, cutting toworkout clips my PR team had posted. A slow-motion shot of me arching backward in apilates move faded into a grainy video ofCallumkissing a nameless blonde woman—which gutted me. The narrative was clear: we were a real-life enemies to lovers trope.
I clenched my fists under the table, my nails biting into my palms.
“This kind of attention isn’t good for the team,” one of the bosses said, his voice measured but firm. “It’s a distraction. It was supposed to be arivalry.Not… whatever the hell this has turned into. We need answers,Aurélie.”
My pulse thundered in my ears, but I forced my voice to remain steady. “The fans’ imaginations are running wild. None of this violates my contract, and my personal life is just that—personal.”
“Perception matters,” another boss interjected. “Especially when your seat is already… under review.”
The words hit like a freight train. “Under review?” I repeated, my voice sharpening. “I’ve onlyDNF’done race, and I’ve placed in the points every other race. We’re already two places higher in the Constructor’s than last year.”
