His thighs tense in his race suit.His chest rising fast.His jaw clenched like it's holding something dangerous back.
I don't want to want this.I don't want to wanthim.Not in this moment.
Not when his brilliance comes wrapped in recklessness.
Not when the line between arousal and fear is so goddamn thin.
But I do.I want him to be as reckless with me, pin me to the nearest wall, his shaking hand finding calm between my legs.
The silence stretches.
I should say something.Ask if he's okay.Compliment the line.Pretend I don't feel the guilt clawing at the back of my throat.
These moments used to be different.
"…maybe if I ski even better, you'll finally drop the act and tear my clothes off."
That is what he said at the party in Val d'Isère, and the memory of his finger brushing along my throat makes me want to clench my thighs tighter together.
So why can't I look at him?How did it turn so weird again?Did I start caring for him too much to enjoy his heroic recklessness?
The broadcast camera swings toward us and zooms in.I catch it in the corner of my eye—red light on, lens glinting in the sun.I shift slightly away from him, adjust my posture, and brush imaginary lint from my sleeve.
Just for the cameras.For optics.
God, I hate myself for even thinking that.
Then Matteo walks past.
Still in his race suit, helmet off, damp hair slicked back, jaw tight.His smile is clipped, sharp.
"Hell of a run," he says to Thomas."Gutsy line."
He doesn't stop walking.Doesn't wait for a response.The compliment lands with the weight of a slap.
Thomas doesn't rise to it.He just lifts his chin slightly.
The look he gives Matteo is half acknowledgment, half victory.
And it's too smug.
That's when it hits me.
I am not imagining things.
Thiswasabout me.
And now I don't know if I'm flattered or horrified.
Jesus.
What did I do?
And most of all, how do I fix this?
The lobby is nearly empty.Most of the racers are upstairs, techs in the bar, journalists chasing quotes they'll soften in the long hours on the road.We leave before they even serve us dinner.
And there he is.
