Page 52 of Broken Breath (Rogue Riders Duet #1)

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Alaina

“ Putain, t’es tellement belle. ”

Luc’s lilting voice faintly registers before I even feel myself waking, his words threading through the haze of sleep in that syrupy French that should be illegal.

I don’t know what it means, but the way his fingers sweep gently across my forehead, brushing back stray hair, makes me want to stay exactly where I am, warm, soft, and wrapped in a smell that’s too good , like clean cotton and something distinctly Luc. Sunshine and trouble.

Then he chuckles, a soft rumble against my ear. “Come on, none of those cute noises anymore, you’re driving me mad over here. Wake up, bébé. ”

Cute noises?

My eyes blink open, and Luc’s face comes slowly into focus, his smug grin already locked and loaded. “How are you feeling?”

I groan, pushing up onto my elbows, my body protesting every inch. “Where am I?”

His grin widens. “In my bed.”

That jolts me upright, and I scan my surroundings. It’s cozy, with wide windows cracked open, and the walls are warm wood lined with shelves bearing an array of haphazardly stacked racing trophies.

“Wait, we’re already in France?” I blink, trying to piece the hours together, but it’s a blur.

I think I only woke up once, somewhere in Switzerland, dragged myself upright just long enough to use the bathroom at a gas station, only to stumble back onto the bus and collapse into Luc’s waiting arms like it was the most natural thing in the world.

I don’t even remember falling asleep again, just the feel of his heartbeat against my cheek and the way his fingers curved protectively around my spine.

Luc leans back against the headboard, arms folded behind his head, looking far too pleased with himself. “Bonneville, oui. We’re at my maman’ s house. She insisted on making us dinner. I was going to let you sleep longer, but Dane wanted to get the bus to the pits before the light went.”

I swing my legs over the edge of the bed, trying to stand, big mistake. Pain flares sharp and hot through my hip, radiating down to my lower back, curling around my abdomen.

“Fucking hell.”

Periods suck. Whoever designed this system should be fired.

Right into the sun.

Luc is already at my side, steadying me with gentle hands. “Here.” He grabs a small backpack and hands it to me. “Piper left this for you. Pain meds and water. You can use my en suite. It’s right there.”

“Thanks,” I mutter, forcing myself to my feet and half-stumbling into the bathroom.

The en suite is small but bright. And thank God, there are pads tucked into the backpack. Piper is a saint!

Once I’m done, I catch sight of myself in the mirror. The dark circles under my eyes aren’t as brutal as they’ve been lately. I look almost human. Almost rested.

Which is ridiculous because nothing about this body feels rested. But somehow sleeping wrapped up in Luc’s arms did wonders I didn’t know I needed. Who would’ve thought?

Popping a couple of pain meds, I splash water on my face, then lean forward, palms on the sink, just breathing. I shouldn’t let myself want this. I can’t want this.

I’m not allowed to fall into people like that, not when they don’t know who I really am, and when I’m a lie wrapped in racing gear and trauma.

I’ve already got one guy who can’t look at me anymore after I snapped and kissed him, and another who might be my friend, but is trying to see right through me, and yet, I let Luc hold me.

God, I liked it way too much.

Because the truth is, I’m starved for this.

For arms around me, touch that doesn’t come with pain, hands that aren’t checking injuries or pulling me out of wreckage, softness in all the places I’m used to being bruised, and the impossible fantasy of being held without needing to be fixed.

Being around Luc is a fucking fight. It’s a constant battle not to lean in or crack open under everything he keeps giving me—quiet affection, warmth, and the kind of safety I don’t know what to do with.

And lately, I’m losing that fight. So fucking fast.

Because he’s too much. Too steady. So disarming it feels like he’s pulling the pain straight out of me without even trying.

Fuck.

I take another deep breath and meet my eyes in the mirror .

Okay. France. Let’s do this.

When I step out of the bathroom, Luc is still there, leaning against the doorframe, arms folded. He unfurls himself and reaches for my hand, and without a word, he laces our fingers together.

My fingers tighten around his instinctively before I can stop myself, and just like that, the part of me I’ve been trying to starve, the one that wants comfort, closeness, him , wins again.

We step into the hallway, and my gaze drifts automatically around the space. Warm sunlight spills through tall windows. The walls are lined with doors, and everything feels open, airy, and lived-in.

Luc watches me take it in. “Guest rooms,” he explains, nodding down the hall. “All of these. Maman’ s room is upstairs.”

“This house is beautiful.”

A slow grin spreads across his face, pride flickering behind his eyes. “ Merci. The money from my first three World Cup wins bought her this place.”

I blink, taken off guard. “You bought her this?”

Luc shrugs like it’s nothing, but warmth at the idea settles softly in my chest. He’s such a mama’s boy, and it’s kind of adorable.

“And with my next win…” He glances down, swinging our joined hands gently between us. “I’ll buy one for myself. I think.”

“You want a house?”

He hums. “I like the idea of it. Something to show for all this, you know? But…” He trails off and lifts a shoulder.

“I don’t know if I’d like the quiet. I can’t handle too much space to get lost in my own head.

” His smile crooks sideways. “Maybe I’ll just stay here.

There’s always noise here, always people. ”

I squeeze his hand, but before I can ask more, the hallway opens up into a sprawling kitchen and dining area.

Dane, Otis, and Piper sit at the dining table, a long piece of rustic wood with mismatched chairs pulled around it, heads bent together, laughing about something.

A woman stands at the stove in the kitchen. She’s beautiful, in her late forties or early fifties maybe, elegant, but with the same unruly brown hair and striking blue eyes as Luc.

When she spots us, her whole face lights up, and Luc tightens his grip on my hand when I instinctively try to pull away. I shoot him a look, but he just smirks, holding on.

“ Bienvenue! ” The woman beams as she crosses the room toward us, wiping her hands on a towel. She cups my face gently between her hands like I’ve known her my whole life. “You’re even more handsome with your beautiful eyes open. I’ve heard so much about you.”

My eyes flick to Luc, my brain scrambling. She’s talking to me ?

His grin only widens.

“I’m élise, ” she adds, her accent curling softly around the name.

And then, before I can even recover, she pulls me into a surprisingly not-awkward hug that smells faintly of rosemary.

“I’m so glad to finally meet you,” she whispers into my ear.

When she pulls back, I just stand there, wide-eyed, mouth opening and closing once.

“Uh… likewise?”

Luc’s shoulders shake with quiet laughter beside me.

“Come, you must be starving!” élise smiles, motioning me toward the table. “I kept a plate warm for you.”

Luc doesn’t let go of my hand until I sit, and even then, it’s only because he’s grabbing the underside of my chair and dragging me closer to him. The legs scrape against the floor before his arm slings easily over the back, like we’ve done this a million times.

I shoot him a look, but he just keeps grinning.

“Al.” Dane looks between Luc and me. “You good?”

I nod back at Dane, giving him the smallest smile. “I’m good.”

My eyes flick to Piper, who’s seated right beside him, her cheeks flushed, but I hold back my smirk. She avoids my gaze anyway. She probably knows exactly what I’m thinking.

élise sets the plate down in front of me, the aroma of garlic and roasted vegetables filling the air, making my stomach growl.

I’m starving.

“Ratatouille,” Luc explains proudly, tapping the edge of the plate like he helped make it.

My eyes flick to his shoulder instinctively, searching for a flash of fur.

Luc catches me, huffing a soft laugh. “Toulouse is with Otis.” He leans in, conspiratorial. “No rats in the kitchen.”

“Eat!” élise urges with a smile, and I don’t need telling twice.

The first bite is heaven, the kind of flavor that makes your eyes roll back. I groan softly, the sound slipping out before I can stop it.

When I glance up, Luc’s gaze is locked onto my face, watching me like I’m dessert as he presses his thigh firmly into mine.

élise leans against the counter, folding a towel over her arm like she’s holding court. “I saw you dethroning Luc yesterday on TV.” She grins, her eyes sparkling. “Very impressive. You’re in the lead now for the overall. ”

I freeze for a beat, blinking as my sluggish brain translates her words and performs the calculation. But no, she’s right.

Leogang pushed me up, and now I’m at 625 points, whereas Luc and Raine are on 600. Mason has 500. Finn, 390.

Somehow, I’m ahead, even if it’s by a breath.

And for the first time, it hits me. I’m not just holding my own out here. I’m in this.

I’m actually in this.

I might really do what I came here to do.

“Wow.” Luc huffs, pulling me out of my thoughts. “ Merci , Maman .”

She waves him off. “Oh, you win enough. You need some real competition.” Her eyes swing back to me. “He was getting too cocky.”

Luc groans. “Rub it in.”

“You know…” she tells me, “… it’s good for him. Someone to keep him on his toes and challenge him in all aspects of life.”

“ Maman! ”

She just smiles, innocent as sin. “It’s true! You tend to get a little full of yourself, mon soleil .”

Luc scrubs a hand down his face, grumbling in French, but élise turns back to me, utterly unfazed. “Where are you from?”

I swallow another bite, amused at the whole exchange. “The States. Snowshoe.”