“Perfect,” he finished, voice rough with want. His erection still throbbed against her thigh, aching, but he made no move to push further.“You’re perfect.”
She kissed him again—slow this time, tender. Her hand slid down his chest, toward the waistband of his shorts, but—
Her phone buzzed sharply on the side table, vibrating insistently against the glass.
They froze, breaths mingling. Mia glanced over, heart still racing from her climax. The screen lit up:Claire Whitman.
She pulled back reluctantly, disentangling just enough to grab the phone. Lucas’s hands stayed on her hips, thumbs stroking soothing circles, but the spell was broken.
“I should… check that,” she whispered, voice still shaky.
He nodded, jaw tight with restraint. “Yeah.”
Mia swiped open the message, eyes scanning quickly.
Hey Mia, quick heads-up before official. Team’s shaking things up for next season. You’ll shift to Jax’s comms lead—frees me to focus on Lucas full-time for sponsors. Big potential there. Thoughts? Call tomorrow?
She set the phone down. “Claire. Team changes. I’m… moving to work with Jax next year. So she can handle you and the sponsors.”
He blinked, processing.“That’s… good for the team, I guess. But us?”
She wrapped her arms around herself, the night air suddenly cold. “That’s why we can’t. Work’s already complicated enough. If we’re together… rumours, conflicts of interest, favouritism accusations. I can’t risk my job.”
Lucas stood, pulling her gently into his arms. No pressure, just comfort.“Friends first. We take it slow. No rushing.”
She nodded against his chest. “Friends.”
They held each other under the stars, bodies still humming with unfinished want, but the line redrawn—for now. The connection was deeper than ever, but the path forward would take patience, care, and the kind of trust neither had given easily before.
Mia shifted slightly in his arms, resting her cheek against his chest. She lifted her head just enough to murmur against his collarbone, voice soft and teasing: “So… when you win the championship, are you going to need somebody with a human touch on the podium radio? Or do I keep that little secret forever?”
Lucas let out a quiet huff of laughter, the sound rumbling through his chest. He dropped his forehead to hers, shoulders shaking slightly.She’s quoting Spice Girls at me. After that.“You’re relentless,” he muttered, voice low and fond. “I tell you one secret and you’re already quoting the chorus at me.”
“Are you asking me to stop right now?” she whispered, mock-offended. “Thank you very much.”
He pinched her side lightly—just enough to make her squeak and squirm against him. She swatted his hand away, laughing under her breath.
Lucas groaned softly. “Keep quoting my hype tracks and I might have to start singing the whole bridge. Nobody needs that.”
She settled back against him, still smiling. “I’d risk it. Just to hear you try the high notes.”
He tightened his arms around her, voice dropping to a contented whisper. “You’re impossible.”
They stayed like that—wrapped up, the tiny, shared secret hanging between them like a private joke—under the vast, star-strewn sky.
For tonight, it was enough.
SEASON III
???
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Lucas
Bahrain pre-season testing was the same furnace it always was—floodlights, dry heat pressing in, the smell of hot brakes and scorched rubber clinging to everything. Three days of long runs, tyre compounds, aero tweaks, chasing tenths that wouldn’t show up in headlines. Lucas climbed out of the car after the final afternoon stint, neck taped, shoulders burning from the G-forces and the simulator hours that had bled into real track time. The garage was already half-empty, engineers packing laptops, mechanics wiping down the floor.
He peeled off the balaclava, sweat stinging his eyes, and scanned the paddock instinctively. Different side this year. Jax’s garage. Mia was over there— dark hair tucked behind one ear, nodding at something an engineer said. She didn’t look his way. Not once.
