Page 43 of Close Contact
And no matter how many times I’d raced in Monaco, it was still a track that required a different kind of focus.
Voices caught my attention, low but urgent, coming from a cluster of drivers huddled in a corner. It was an unusual sight; drivers weren’t typically gathered in secretive meetings on race day unless it was with their teammate. I slowed my steps,curiosity getting the best of me, my ears pricking at the familiar timbre of Morel’s voice.
“She’s not going to hold that pole position for long. I’d be surprised if she held it through Sainte-Dévote with Fraser in P2,” Morel muttered, his tone dripping with smug confidence. “If I get past Kimi, I’ll be right behind her. One tap in the wrong corner, and that’s it. She’s out and in the barrier.”
Takeda chimed in, laughing. “Box her out early, make her sweat. She’ll crack. Women always do under pressure.”
My jaw clenched, and my hand tightened around the strap of my bag. The words bothered me more than they should have—they were so blatantly calculated. It wasn’t just competition. It wassabotage. And at the speeds we drove, it was downright dangerous.
“She’s too stubborn to pit when she needs to,” Morel continued. “Her tires will be gone before she even realizes it. That’s when we strike.”
I didn’t need to hear more. The knot in my stomach tightened as I turned on my heel and shifted directions, heading straight for her suite in the Luminis garage, hoping she was there.
Their plan was dirty, especially here. A tap at the wrong angle in a place like Mirabeau, and she’d be in the wall. The Tunnel, with its blinding light and tight chicane, could easily turn into a pile-up. And La Rascasse? Forget it. One wrong move, and the race would be over in an instant.
They weren’t just targeting her position. They were targetingher, full stop.
Aurélie had mentioned something like this at the start of the season, brushing it off as if it were nothing more than locker-room posturing.They’ll try to box me out,she’d said. I hadn’t realized she meant it literally. It terrified me. The track was the one place I couldn’t protect her, couldn’t stop something fromhappening. I had to warn her. I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to her and I didn’t try to save her.
My mind should’ve been on strategy, tire degradation, weather conditions, and overtakes. And yet, all I could see—all I could fucking feel—was her. On her knees, gagging around my cock, her ass arched for me, flushed and trembling. She’d come on my fingers and choked on me in the same breath, and now, they wanted to touch her, threaten her, hurt her. I wasn’t going to let them.
By the time I reached her door, my pulse was pounding, and my knuckles hit the wood with more force than intended.
No answer.
I knocked again, this time with even less patience. The engineers nearby gave me questioning looks, their murmured conversations halting as they watched me. I didn’t care. Let them fucking talk.
Finally, her voice came from inside, muffled but sharp. “Yes? Come in.”
I opened the door and froze.
Aurélie was perched on the edge of a massage table in only a sports bra and spandex shorts, her head tilted back, a grimace tugging at her lips. Her physio knelt in front of her, his hands working into the muscles of her inner thighs. The sight of him there—of her in such an exposed and intimate position—made my blood boil in a way I didn’t want to examine too closely.
I’d had her in that same position, legs spread and vulnerable, her body jerking beneath my hands as she came for me, over and over. Only difference? Iearnedthat right. With praise and degradation, with my mouth on her clit and her name like a fucking prayer. No one else got to touch her like that.
After all, my bite marks were still visible all over her, and that stirred something in me when this was most definitelynotthe time.
Her head jerked toward the door, surprise flickering across her face before it steeled into something more controlled and dangerous. “Fraser, what the hell?”
The physio glanced over his shoulder, clearly startled, but didn’t stop his work. “Almost done,” he muttered, his focus returning to her inner thighs, which in turn drew my attention to her perfectly tanned, toned legs. Another man’s hands were on her, and I saw red.
Fucking stop, Fraser.
“I need a word,” I said, my voice harsh.
She waved at me to continue, clearly impatient, but I took a moment to just look at her. Sure, I’d just seen her last night, and I took every opportunity I could to see her this week, but truthfully, I missed her. I missed having her in my bed and in my space. I’d kept the shirt of mine she slept in at my place balled up by my pillow just so I could smell her at night.
She crossed her arms tightly over her chest. “Well, what is it?” she asked, sounding strained and a tad impatient. “I know you didn’t come in here to be silent.”
I hesitated, my eyes flicking to the faint sheen of sweat on her brow, the tension in her shoulders. She looked exhausted, but there was a fire in her gaze that made my earlier concern bubble over.
“I overheard Morel and the others,” I started, stepping further into the room and shutting the door behind me. “They’re planning to take you out. Literally. Push you off the track, box you out of position—whatever it takes to make you retire the car.”
Her expression didn’t change. Not shock, not fear, not even anger. Just a tired sort of resignation when she glanced at her physio.
“I know,” she said simply, crossing her arms, and my traitorous eyes dipped to where the movement pushed herbreasts together.Jesus. You’d think I hadn’t touched her in weeks instead of hours. This would’ve been an opportune time for my brain to recall the walk back through the hotel with a damp cum stain on my shorts and the quiet ride-share back to my flat, and yet, none of that mattered where she was concerned.
“Youknow?” The word came out louder than I intended, my frustration mounting.
