Page 29 of Close Contact
I couldn’t stop ogling her. Golden skin, flushed and glowing. Strands of hair clinging to her sweaty skin. Lips swollen and rosy. My pulse kicked up savagely. She looked like a fucking fever dream, and I was burning for her all over again.
“Is it now?”
Aurélie scoffed, rolling her eyes as she tugged my shirt over her head. I damn near lost it. It swallowed her frame, slipping off one shoulder, brushing the tops of her thighs, and somehow made her look even more devastating.
She was wearing me. And it was the hottest fucking thing I’d ever seen.
“You seem to have forgotten a key component of your racing attire. Or, you know, any of it at all.”
She muttered a string of rapid French, too quick for me to catch, but her tone told me everything. Embarrassment. Frustration. The kindling of desire still lingering between us. “Comment vais-je retourner au paddock dans les mêmes vêtements qu’hier?” she grumbled, so quietly I could barely hear the indignation in her voice that clashed beautifully with the flush on her cheeks.
“Perhaps a walk of shame would suit you, Dubois,” I murmured, allowing the full force of my grin to show. I was having way too much fun teasing her, but it was all for good reason to get her to loosen up. “It would certainly give the paparazzi something to talk about besides lap times.”
“Shame?” She pivoted, her posture rigid, eyes blazing with the fire that had drawn me to her from the start. “There’s no shame in what we did, Callum. Only the consequence of… distraction.”
“Distraction,” I echoed, tasting the word, letting it linger like the heat that sizzled between us. “A dangerous game we’re playing, wouldn’t you say?”
“Le plus dangereux,” she conceded with a nod, her defiance cooling into something resembling resignation. “But then, danger is part of the fun, n’est-ce pas?”
“Indeed it is, Aurélie. Indeed it is. See, you’re getting it now.” My voice rumbled with a promise, the same promise that simmered beneath the surface of our every interaction. Dangerous. Thrilling. And utterly irresistible.
Her eyes trailed down my body, the look heating as she took in my half-hard dick still wearing a condom.
“Get ready, Callum. We have somewhere to be,” she said, her voice all business, though her eyes betrayed her.
“Of course.” I swung my legs out of bed, the cool air of the room hitting my bare skin. But as I stood, there was a potency in the silence that followed—a shared understanding that what happened between us wasn’t just about satisfying a physical need. It was more complex than that. I stretched, then pulled the condom off and tossed it in the trashcan by my bedside.
“Ça ne devrait pas être légal d’être aussi beau que toi.” She shook her head, looking lost in the middle of my room.
I grinned at her and decided to put her out of her misery. “Speaking an awful lot of French today, Dubois. I love it. And thank you. I also like you best when you’re undone and freshly fucked.”
Her mouth snapped shut, her cheeks turning bright red. It was a sight to behold.
Chuckling, I said, “Relax, Dubois. I’ve got you covered.”
“Relax? I have no underwear, Callum! And I have to walk into the lion’s den looking like I just rolled out of someone else’s bed!”
I raised a brow, utterly unbothered. “Technically, you did.”
Her glare sharpened, and I bit back a laugh. “You’re impossible!”
“I’m prepared,” I replied calmly as I gestured toward the door. “Kimi dropped off your bags last night. Everything you need is downstairs. The doorman should be bringing them up now.”
She froze mid-step and narrowed her eyes at me. “You could’ve told me sooner.”
“And miss this performance?” I teased. She glowered at me, but there was a flicker of relief in her expression that she couldn’t hide completely.
We stood there, locked in a moment that stretched taut with wanton desire and raw emotions. This woman, who raced with the heart of a lioness, stared back at me—not with the bravado of a competitor, but with the vulnerability of a lover.
“Merci,” she whispered, the single word laden with a complexity that only we could understand.
“De rien,” I replied. I kissed her forehead before sauntering into the bathroom to shower, because if I lingered a moment longer, I might not let her leave my space.
The lift ridedown to the parking garage was quiet. Aurélie was clutching her bags, and we were both dressed in our team gear and freshly showered.
Her hair was styled in two braids, and her makeup was minimal. Her posture was all confidence and determination, the vulnerability from earlier tucked neatly away. But I couldn’t unsee it. I couldn’t forget the way she’d looked curled into herself yesterday, how broken she’d been when talking about her past, or the sound of her laughter filling the room this morning.
Watching her should’ve been the last thing I was doing, but I just couldn’t resist.
