That landed. Reese saw it in the way Sloane’s posture loosened, the smallest crack in her emotional armor. Not collapse, just maybe, permission.
Sloane swallowed, her voice rough. “Thank you.”
Reese squeezed her fingers lightly. “Anytime.”
The silence that followed wasn’t heavy anymore. It felt like something else entirely. Unfinished, charged, or the kind of quiet that hinted they were dangerously close to crossing another line.
Sloane was the one to break it, her voice barely above a whisper. “We should … probably talk boundaries at some point.”
Reese’s smile was small and wry because this was Sloane’s default. “Yeah. Probably.”
But neither of them let go of the other’s hand.
And that said everything.
CHAPTER 13
NOT NAKED MODE
Monza carried its own kind of electricity. God, it was good to be back. Sloane was unexpectedly invigorated to return to Italy and to a circuit where she’d scored the most significant race win of her career. So many memories came flooding back as she stared out at the now-empty track. She could see and hear it all play out in front of her. The sound of the crowd when she emerged from her car. Her team hanging over the fence as she passed beneath the checkered flag. The sheer exhilaration of winning the whole damn thing. She wasn’t sure she’d ever experience a moment that compared.
All around her now, the air thrummed with the sound of engines even when they weren’t running, as though the circuit itself remembered every lap ever laid down on it. Sloane liked that about Italy, the history, the reverence, the way the locals spoke about racing like it was religion.
But this weekend, she had something else to look forward to.
She hadn’t realized exactly how much the absence would settle under her skin until she stepped into the Formula Next paddock and spotted Reese-fucking-Maddox leaning against the wall outside the conference room—early, of all things. She was scrolling through something on her phone, one ankle crossedover the other, posture relaxed in a way that said she had nowhere more important to be. And Sloane felt it, that quiet pull in her chest she’d spent a week pretending wasn’t growing. But it was. God, Reese was a sight for sore eyes.
She looked up just as Sloane approached, a slow, warm grin curving her perfect lips. “Hey, you.”
It hit harder than it should have. “Morning,” Sloane said, grateful her voice came out steady. “Didn’t expect you yet.”
“Impressed?” Reese grinned, proud of herself, but there was something careful beneath it. “Figured I’d be on time for once.” A beat. “Did you miss me?”
Yes.“What constitutes miss?” Sloane asked with her best quizzical look.
“Imagining me naked.”
And there went all the air from her lungs. “Seriously?” Sloane said, pausing with the doorknob in her hand. But her skin prickled, and heat slid down her spine. She was instantly turned on and all too aware of her inner thighs. The idea of being naked with Reese was enough to short-circuit her morning.
“I’m kidding.”
“No, you’re not,” Sloane said, dropping her tone.
“No. I’m not,” Reese echoed, the grin fading from her face.
Something flickered across Reese’s expression—pleasure, maybe, or relief—but before Sloane could define it, footsteps and conversation rose from behind them. Two other drivers rounded the corner, filtering toward the conference room, greeting Reese as if she’d simply been waiting there quietly the whole time rather than tossing Sloane’s morning on its head … or rather onto its back. There were more voices down the hall, reminding Sloane that it was four minutes until nine o’clock and she had notes to look over before her talk with the drivers.
Sloane swallowed her smile and nodded toward the entrance. “Let’s get inside.”
A few minutes later, Sloane stood at the head of the compact conference room inside the Formula Next suite of mobile offices, kicking off what would be a more informal chat, heavily based on Q and A. The space was sleek and efficient, comprised of a long table, mounted screens, and the faint hum of air-conditioning battling the late-summer Italian heat. The rest of the drivers filed in, taking their seats with the low chatter of people who’d spent enough time together to know each other’s rhythms. These women were becoming friends, enemies, and everything in between. Typical of any driver lineup.
Reese settled halfway down the table, posture relaxed but eyes unmistakably focused. And every so often, Sloane felt those eyes drift to her like a quiet pulse of heat.
She inhaled, smoothing her palms down the front of her blazer. She could do work mode, even with Reese Maddox looking at her like that. Work mode,not naked mode.
“All right,” Sloane began, projecting her voice just enough to fill the room. “Let’s talk more about what being a driver looks like beyond the circuit. Most of you signed up to go fast. That’s the simple part. Everything else?” She offered a wry smile. “That’s where the real learning begins.”
A few nods around the room. They’d had a taste of it at the lower levels, but F1 was its own animal.
