“I need to confirm your medical clearance with Julian. And I need you to help me find him, or you can’t race.”
“Okay,”he said with a nod. “Just give me a second here.”
To do what? Try and speak through body language and grunts?
Oh god, no, that was a worse visual.
But it wouldn’t stop forming — her bent over, him breathing in her ear—
I quick-marched out.
And, looking over my shoulder, she was now stroking both of his arms, and his hands had fallen to her waist.
“Zoltán?” I bristled without thinking.
He didn’t say another word to her, just looked up at me and followed me out. I walked a few steps forward before he reached for my arm, and I threw his touch off me.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, jolting back at my rejection.
“That performance there nearly made me pull a you.”
His frown took over his whole beautiful face.
“Being sick behind the trailers.”
He chuckled and crossed his arms, leaning against the wall, inches before me. “Are you jealous, Zsófia Bacque?”
“No,” I snapped. “We were—” I looked around him to check that the tunnel was empty. “We were a one-night, no-strings entanglement.”
A corner of his mouth tilted. “You know, for a language expert, your delivery is shit. At least lie well.”
“Anyway,” I said and shoved the paper into his ridiculous chest. “We need to find Julian.”
He took it from my hands, his fingers stroking mine with the same gentle brush that reminded me of two weeks ago.
Eyes fluttering, I looked away while he analysed the paper.
“But—you need to be honest with me. Are you well enough to race?”
A dangerous scowl through his brows anchored me to the floor.
A tight breath, and I used all the moral responsibility and confidence the caffeine had given me. “Because the doctors can say you’re ready to go, but nobody knows your body better than you do.”
“Why are you saying this?”
“Because you fell off a chair and threw up yesterday.”
“Contacts and food poisoning,” he said through his teeth. “And I didn’t fall. What do you care anyway? You’ve just got to translate, and you get your pay.”
“I don’t care,”I snapped.
He smirked. “Again with the lies. You’re cute, Zsófia.”
“I don’t care.”
I knew what men like him were like. That was why my fantasy of fucking a racer was just that.Just fucking. Location.Condom. No emotion. In that order.
“So that little high-pitched cry of my name just then was nothing? It reminded me of your gasps and—”
