Page 60 of Fallen Crown

“Why are you here?”

“A few reasons,” he says. “I don’t usually have these conversations without alcohol, so I’m struggling to get these big boy pants on. They’re a bit tight.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I take a seat on the couch, and I contemplate hiding my pills, but he’s seen them before.

When he doesn’t say anything for a long time, I can’t take the silence anymore. “Alcohol makes them looser, does it?”

“Alcohol makes a lot of things looser.” He shoots me a wolfish grin over his shoulder, and my heart stutter-stops. He turns to face me, and he crosses his arms. “What do you want?”

“That’s a broad question.” I lean back in the couch, and I cross my arms to match his.

“Wren and Riker don’t think you want to race anymore. I wasn’t convinced, and when I learned you haven’t called InterFlix or the race committee organizer yet, I became even less convinced.”

“I don’t know what I want.” Which suddenly feels accurate on so many levels. With him here in my apartment after us avoiding any alone time for the last couple of weeks, everything in me is longing to be closer to him. At the window, he’s too far away, and when we’re in private like this, I let myself drink him in in a way I never do when we’re surrounded by others. His T-shirt is stretched across his chest, and his shorts ride low on his hips. Tattoos and toned flesh lie under his clothes, and I’m not immune to those charms.

I was so sure I wanted to repair things with Enzo. Brice isn’t a real option. He’s not for several reasons. But it feels like he is.

“What’s holding you back?” Brice asks, and he comes to the couch to plop down beside me as though we’re still the best of friends.

There’s more holding me back than I think I want to share. The trauma of the last time—if I get injured again, there’s a chance I could spiral out of control. The memory of the outcome of my last race still lingers.

On top of that, I’m sure if I say yes, the death of me and Enzo is a clear consequence. If he comes home, he’ll expect me to quit racing. He’s only been marginally okay with me training the team, and any hint that I might return to full competition has led to a fight. Going to Fiji as a competitor is like giving him the middle finger. Since the race will be televised and dissected ad nauseum for the rest of our lives—that middle finger is writ large. I’m not sure if we can come back from my choice.

“I’m scared,” I admit. It’s the closest I can come to verbalizing everything holding me back. Part of me wants to go. Brice isn’t wrong. I didn’t call anyone to confirm our withdrawal because I’ve been sitting here weighing whether I’d be capable of racing if they bent the rules.

“Too scared?” His tone is gentle, and he reaches out to toy with a few strands of my hair that have come loose from my ponytail. “You never seem scared of anything.”

“I’m scared of lots of things.” Including the way my heart is pounding at his proximity, the way a glance from him can cause a wildfire to rage across my body. Sex with him would not be mediocre. I was fooling myself before. It would be hot and intense, and he’d probably make it impossible for me to ever want to be with anyone else. I would crave him forever. The worst possible outcome.

“Race with me,” he murmurs. He takes my hand, and he plays with my wedding ring, which I put back on the other night after leaving it in a dish in my bathroom for weeks. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“That’s why it’s an accident. No one means for it to happen.”

“If I can get the rules bent for us, will you race?”

When our gazes meet, the only word I want to utter is yes, but I’m not sure what I’m agreeing to. The air around us is fraught with the sexual tension that threatens to ignite. I’d also be agreeing to the dissolution of my marriage, to possibly throwing gasoline on whatever is smoking between me and Brice.

“I don’t know.” I stare at him, wishing my desire to race wasn’t tied so closely to my yearning to be close to him.

“Can I talk to InterFlix and the race committee? No pressure. I’ll just find out if it’s possible.”

I’m certain both of us are aware of how much InterFlix has already banked on his participation. Without a doubt, they’ll land hard on the race committee to find a loophole that would allow either me or someone else, even if they aren’t qualified, to step into Paxton’s place.

But saying yes, at least at this level, buys me a minimum of twenty-four hours to come to grips with the reality of agreeing. Once Enzo realizes I’m a competitor, he won’t come back. Tears prick at my eyes at the finality of that. I’d be throwing my marriage away for a race.

“Tucker,” he murmurs. “Look at me.”

When I glance up, he’s blurry, but I can make out the softening of his expression. He frames my face, and he plants a kiss on my forehead. “Don’t cry. Forget I asked. I’m not pushing you to do something you’re not ready for.”

The tenderness from him opens a similar well in me. I slide my arms around his shoulders, and I draw him into a hug. His hand slides to my lower back, and he drags me onto his lap, so I’m straddling him with my face buried in the crook of his neck. I breathe him in while he edges up my shirt to caress my bare back. The skin-to-skin contact causes a shiver of pleasure to race through me. We shouldn’t be sitting like this, but I have no desire to move. As long as I keep my face buried, I don’t have to face him or this or whatever is about to come to a head. My wild heart races.

“I didn’t know how to cope with the loss of my dad. I still don’t, if I’m honest.” His voice is quiet in the room. “So, I invited a few people to the palace because I thought I’d been relying on you too heavily. That maybe I was being unfair to you. I’d never want to put you in an impossible situation. But I wanted to call you that night. I wanted to call you so badly.”

I love the rumble against my ear and the sincerity lacing his words. I clutch the back of his head. He tugs me tighter, and there’s no doubt our closeness is affecting him. In return, he’d find me warm and wet if he slid his hand between my legs. Hearing and feeling how much he wants me is exhilarating. Even though I shouldn’t, even though it’s wrong, I want him too. I’ve been fighting these feelings for so long.

“You can ask them if I can take Paxton’s place,” I murmur, my lips grazing the sensitive skin of his throat.

“Are you sure?” His voice is thick and raw.