She leaned back against the door and let out a long, shaky breath, like she’d been holding it for miles. “Yes,” she said. “I can’t believe it, but yes.”
The words landed heavily.
Sloane crossed the space between them without thinking, stopping just short of touching her. “Yes,” she echoed, softer. “As in?—”
“As in Laurens Racing wants me as their reserve driver,” Reese said. Her mouth curved, but the smile didn’t quite land yet. “Jeremy says they’re moving fast. They want me available immediately. Luckily, I’m already here. No plane to catch. We’re meeting in the morning.”
Sloane forgot how to breathe.
Pride surged first, intense and almost painful, followed immediately by fear, then awe. This was it. The thing Reese had been chasing. The door everyone pretended didn’t exist for women in recent years, cracking open once again right in front of them.
“That’s … Reese,” Sloane said, her voice giving her away. “That’s huge. Congratulations!”
Reese nodded, eyes bright but unfocused, like she was still halfway inside the call. “I know. I keep waiting for the part where he calls back and says, ‘Just kidding.’”
Sloane let out a breath that was half-laugh, half-sob. She reached out then, fingers curling into the sleeve of Reese’s jacket, grounding herself as much as Reese. “They don’t joke about things like this.”
“No,” Reese said quietly. “They really don’t.”
They stared at each other for a moment, suspended. Then something softened in Reese’s face—a small smile, tentative at first, then blooming into something real. It filled the room. Itfilled Sloane. The fear receded, just for now. There would be time for that later.
Right now, Reese needed to be celebrated.
“Come here,” Sloane said, opening her arms. “This is amazing news.”
Reese moved immediately, and just before they came together, Sloane caught the tears gathering in her eyes. It stole her breath. She’d seen Reese under pressure, in pain, in moments that demanded steel, but never this. Never tears.
“After wanting this for so long, I just can’t believe it’s finally happened,” Reese said against her shoulder. “I’m an F1 driver. Reserve or not. I’m in F1.”
“You earned it. You should be incredibly proud of yourself,” Sloane said, holding her tight. “You’ve worked so hard.” She pulled back just enough to look at her. “And don’t get me started on the raw talent. That part is wildly unfair to the rest of us.”
Reese huffed a quiet laugh. “Stop. You’re one of the most talented drivers alive.”
Her fingers slipped to the first button of Sloane’s blouse, undoing it with deliberate slowness.
“What are you up to?” Sloane asked, amused, watching Reese move to the second button. “What are you doing?”
“Celebrating,” Reese murmured. “Yes?”
Sloane laughed softly. “Mm-hmm. But I have an idea. How about you just relax and enjoy? My turn.”
Reese’s brows lifted, surprise flickering into delighted interest. “Your turn?”
“You just got the call of a lifetime.” Sloane leaned in, lips brushing the shell of Reese’s ear. “That deserves a proper reward. And I think I know exactly how I want to give it to you.”
She felt Reese’s quick intake of breath, the way her body instinctively arched toward the words. Sloane’s fingers found thehem of Reese’s shirt, tugging it upward inch by inch, exposing warm skin and the quick rise and fall of her ribs.
“Lift your arms,” Sloane whispered.
Reese obeyed instantly, letting Sloane peel the shirt over her head and toss it aside. The motion left Reese’s dark hair mussed and wild, framing eyes that were already dark with anticipation.
Sloane took a moment just to look—really look—at the woman in front of her: flushed cheeks, parted lips, the faint tremor of excitement running through her. Then she closed the distance again, kissing Reese slowly and deeply while her hands mapped the newly bared skin, thumbs tracing the underside of Reese’s bra, teasing without rushing.
Reese made a small, needy sound against Sloane’s mouth.
Sloane smiled into the kiss. “Patience, hotshot. We’ve got all night.”
“Oh, a new nickname,” she breathed.
