“Aurélie.”
“Thatismy name,” she shot back lightly. “Try not to ruin it before we reach the climax.”
I went completely blank for a beat, blood rerouting south like it had a mind of its own. Then I caught up to her and gripped the back of her neck, possessive and grounding all at once.
“Sex Tape in Milos? Sources Say: She Screamed So Loud, the Goats Fainted.”
That earned me a shove to the ribs and a strangled laugh she tried to cover with a cough. A group of sweaty-faced tourists exited the trailhead just as we reached it.
“Stop it. Someonewillrun with that.”
“Good,” I said, utterly shameless. “Let them know I go down like a gentleman.”
“Oh,please.There was nothing gentlemanly about what you said when your tongue was deep in my p—” Two hikers rounded the corner of the trail. Aurélie cleared her throat and smiled demurely. “—mon…panini?”
I stumbled like she’d just hit me with a brick, the couple awkwardly averting their gazes as they passed us. “Yourpanini?”
She huffed and kept walking. “No. Nope. We’re not talking about it.”
I caught up, absolutely feral. “You called it yourpanini, Aurélie. That’s a sandwich.”
“I am the sub for a reason, right?”
“Christ, baby,” I groaned. “Hottest culinary slip-up of my life.”
“Shut up.”
“I will toast that sandwich, mo chridhe.I’ll press it slow, melt it until it’s dripping, spread it wide, tie it down, and tell it exactly when it’s allowed to come off the plate.”
“Callum!”
“I’m not joking.Mon paniniis going in my vows. And tattooed on my goddamn thigh, right underelle saura.”
She recoiled like I’d slapped her with a baguette. “So it reads, ‘she’ll know… my panini’?”
“Exactly.” I winked. “Spiritual text.”
She scrunched her nose, then peeked up at me with a wicked grin. “Champion’s Wife Bends for the Breadwinner.”
I smirked, voice dark with promise. “Damn right. And right under that?Sources Confirm: He Eats It Like a Gentleman.”
She gave me a long, withering look. “If you make even one more sandwich joke, I’m calling off the elopement and joining the convent at the top of this hill.”
Aurélie hikedlike she did everything—determined, slightly chaotic, and stubborn enough to keep pace even when the incline turned steep. Her ponytail bounced with every step, and I caught myself staring at the nape of her neck longer than I should have. It was the first place she started to sweat.
She paused halfway up a rocky incline, hands on her hips. “How much further?”
I grabbed the trail map I’d stuffed into one of my pack’s pockets, unfolding it and scanning with my eyes. “Another kilometer.”
“Race you.”
“Absolutely not. The last time we did this, I had you pinned against a tree in thirty seconds?—”
She bolted before I could finish my sentence. I cursed under my breath and took off after her.
The incline was surprisingly steep, zigzagging across uneven rock and packed dirt, narrow enough that I couldn’t pass her without risk of knocking us both off balance. But she kept glancing over her shoulder, laughing like a damn siren, daring me to chase her.
We moved fast. Less of a hike, more of an uphill sprint. Heart pounding, lungs and legs burning, sweat dripping along my spine as we pushed through switchbacks and stone steps carved into the side of the mountain. Ten minutes, maybe eleven at most, was all it took for us to reach the top. Two very fit, competitive athletes operating on pure adrenaline and horny spite.
