Page 31

THIRTY-ONE

CHARLOTTE

In what feels like a heartbeat, our month of rest and relaxation in Monaco is over, and I’m at the welcome party for the Dutch Grand Prix, staring at the blinding rock on Ella’s finger. It’s a gorgeous cushion-cut rectangular diamond with tapered baguette diamonds on the side. Blake proposed a few days ago, and their future nuptials are already being nicknamed the “Formula 1 Royal Wedding.”

The media’s excitement over the announcement has, blessedly, all but stamped out any chatter about the “AlphaVite Altercation.” Though it seems to still be at the forefront of Theo’s mind. He didn’t even bother showing up to tonight’s party. It’s not a mandatory event, but missing the first one back, especially after the incident, won’t win him any favors.

“I think we’re going to have the engagement party next month,” Ella tells me. “We may have two—one in London and one in Chicago—but I’m not sure yet. It’s a lot of travel.”

“Just tell me where to be and when.” I grin, tabling thoughts of Theo again. I’ve gotten good at it over the last month. “Actually, tell Lucas, and he’ll make sure I’m there and on time. ”

The man is like a walking calendar with the memory of an elephant. The convenience cancels out how annoying it is when he rushes me to make sure we’re on time.

Ella takes a sip of her wine, grinning the whole time. “How are things going with you two? I should’ve known he had a thing for you by the way he reacted when he found out about your date with Cooper.”

“They’re really good.” My own smile grows. For the dozenth time tonight, I scan the crowd. This time, I find Lucas talking to Mitchell, Blake, and Blake’s manager, Martin.

He looks sexy as hell in his tailored navy trousers and white button-down. His sleeves are rolled up, exposing his tattoos, and he’s left the top few buttons undone, revealing his toned chest. Like he can sense my appreciation, Lucas looks over. And when he spies me, his smile ratchets up a notch. He says something to Blake, patting him on the back, and then he’s striding my way like a lion stalking its prey.

“I love Blake, but damn, he is one fine -looking man,” Ella murmurs.

I grin and clink my glass against hers. “Cheers to that.”

“Hey, baby.” Lucas snakes his arm around my waist and kisses my temple. “Hey, El.”

She beams at his casual display of affection like it’s the sweetest thing she’s ever seen. “I can’t wait for us to triple date.”

“Once Theo pulls his head out of his arse,” I grumble, much to their amusement.

“Stop stressing about it.” Unlike me, Lucas is completely unbothered by Theo’s absence. “The ball’s in his court.”

“Yeah, well the ball’s about to leave the court and go straight down his?—”

“And that’s our cue to leave,” Lucas says, plucking the wineglass out of my hand and setting it on a nearby table. “See you tomorrow, El. ”

She waves goodbye, her diamond ring glittering under the lights.

“Why are we leaving?” I ask, dragging my feet as he hauls me to the elevator. “I wasn’t done drinking or socializing.”

“Because I like these pants, and if we stay any longer, my dick is going to burst through the seams,” he says, pressing himself against me, his hard length hitting my side. He punches the up button with more force than necessary, as if his strength alone will make the elevator arrive faster.

“Oh,” I state, rather dumbly. “I don’t know how I missed that. Probably because I was too focused on Ella’s ring, which while not bigger than your dick, is definitely prettier. No offense. Not that you don’t have a pretty dick, but in general, in a strictly aesthetic sense, I don’t think anyone would describe penises as pretty. They’re hot in their own way—don’t get me wrong. They can be hard and veiny but also soft and squishy which?—”

The elevator doors open, and as an elderly couple hobbles out, I clamp my lips together. Lucas unceremoniously drags me inside, then jabs the close doors button before anyone can join us. The moment the stainless-steel doors are shut, he seals his lips to mine like a bomb will go off if he doesn’t. Despite the suddenness of the move, the kiss itself is sweet and sensual.

Though it doesn’t stay that way for long.

By the time we’re alone in our hotel suite, I’m a panting mess.

“Not that I have any objections,” I say, stepping out of my heels, “but you’re acting like a woman at the end of her follicular phase—uncontrollably horny for no apparent reason.”

“You’re the reason,” he replies, cupping my jaw. “I’ve watched my friends find love and build relationships, always wondering when it’d be my turn. It felt like everyone was moving forward while I was stuck in mud. Until you. You came along and made all that waiting and all those doubts worth it. You might not be a planner, but I am, and I plan on loving you for the rest of my life.”

“And in the afterlife,” I blurt, and when Lucas lifts a brow, I add, “We should buy a Ouija board so that after one of us dies, we can still communicate.”

He stares at me for the space of a breath, then a hearty laugh spills from deep in his chest. “Deal.”

“It sounded more romantic in my head,” I defend through a fit of giggles. “And just for the record, I plan on loving you for that long, too.”

Tilting my chin up, he assesses my face. Then he angles in, his lips meeting mine in a soft, slow kiss. I let my hands wander across his chest and abs, relishing the firmness of his curved muscles, and when I scrape my nails against his nipples, he shivers.

“I want to make you feel good.” I moan against his lips and sink to my knees.

“Baby, wait.” He shrugs out of his jacket and folds it neatly. Easing down, he sets it on the floor, then guides me so I’m kneeling on it. The simple, sweet act makes me wetter, if possible, when my panties are already drenched through.

His cock is hard and heavy, bulging against the zipper of his designer pants. Licking my lips, I unzip him. And when his hard length is in my hand, I tilt in and curl my tongue around the tip, teasing the prominent vein running underneath it. He groans as I alternate between covering his shaft with quick, gentle pecks and longer, lingering kisses. And when I finally wrap my lips around him and use my hands to stroke the part of him I can’t fully fit into my mouth, his knees nearly buckle in relief.

He gathers my hair, forming a makeshift ponytail, so he can get a better view. I steady my breathing as best as I can and keep a quick pace. I curve my tongue along his length, making his jaw drop and his hips thrust forward of their own accord .

“Such a sweet little mouth,” he moans hoarsely, tugging lightly on my hair.

His praise has me glancing up through my lashes to drink him in. His jaw works, the rapid flex of muscles there a dead giveaway that he’s close. Careful to avoid brushing against his thigh and tickling him, I move one hand to his balls, and as I gently massage one and then the other, my fingers toying with the sensitive skin, his chest rises and falls rapidly.

“Shit, baby,” he chokes out through gritted teeth. “Don’t stop. I’m so close.”

I chuckle because duh , and the reverberations have him thrusting his hips forward and tipping over the edge. He groans out my name as his cock pulsates against my tongue, the salty tang of his release a delicious proof of his pleasure.

Still breathing raggedly, he releases his hold on my hair and helps me onto my feet. Then he pulls me in for a long, drugging kiss, not shying away from his own taste on my tongue. I don’t even realize he’s unhooked the clasp of my dress until the zipper’s sliding down my back and the fabric is pooling around me. His ringed fingers knead at my sensitive breasts, teasing my nipples until they’re perfectly peaked.

He lifts his head, blond hair tousled and a disarmingly cocky smile on his lips. Without a word, he walks forward, forcing me to step backward until my legs collide with the bed, and I fall back with an oomph . Quickly, he covers my body with his and trails tender kisses across my chest, like he’s tattooing my skin with his lips. When he moves down to my stomach, he spends extra time worshipping the area around my pump. Then he moves back up to my breasts. He doesn’t stop, and I lose track of time as he laves my neck and collarbone with attention.

His skilled fingers finally reach between our bodies, where he finds my throbbing clit begging for attention. He teases me, working me up even though I’m more than ready to take him. I have been since the moment I took off my heels. Lucas’s refractory period is short. He could take me again now. But he loves foreplay, loves prolonging my pleasure, but I’m impatient, eager for gratification.

“Lucas,” I say, my breath coming out in little gasps. I caress his chest and abs, appreciating the broadness of his curved muscles as I grind against him, the friction of his growing erection against my leg driving me crazy.

With a deep, guttural noise, he pulls me into a messy kiss. “You want my cock, baby?” he asks, his voice smoky with need.

“I don’t know how I can make that more obvious,” I snark, losing patience with his torturously slow teasing.

Chuckling, he rears up on his knees and snags a condom from the nightstand. His chest heaves, and his hair falls over his forehead as he slides it over his cock.

Watching him like this causes the building anticipation to spark against my skin like fireworks.

He blankets his body over mine and rolls his hips, his cock sliding against my clit, amping up my desire with each motion before positioning himself at my entrance. Focus fixed on me, he radiates pure adoration. The sensation makes my stomach flip like a coin in a winning bet. I’m starting to squirm under the intensity of it when he slides into me with ease.

He grinds his body against mine in slow, insistent circles, applying pressure to my clit with every rotation. I wrap my legs around his waist and lock my ankles at the base of his back, needing him closer. His expression bleeds passion as he moves against me, yet there’s a softness to it.

I couldn’t look away, even if I wanted to.

Arching upward to take him deeper, I rock my hips, my body colliding with his in near perfect rhythm. I whimper, burying my face in his neck and digging my fingers into the soft hair at the base of his neck. Heat blooms, a fever rushing over my body, as my orgasm builds, his simple touch an aphrodisiac .

“Lucas,” I murmur against his skin. “I’m so close.”

“Yeah?” His lips and tongue dance circles down my throat. “Good. I need to feel you squeezing my cock, Char.”

He doesn’t falter or change his pace. Like I knew he would, he keeps up his measured, insistent movements until the heat in my stomach explodes in a supernova and my walls pulse around him as I call out his name.

“Oh, fuck,” he moans as he drops his forehead to my shoulder. “That’s it.”

In a matter of seconds, his cock throbs inside me as he empties into the condom, his thrusts growing languid as we ride out our orgasms. Our lips meet in a kiss that speaks a million words in a single action, a promise set in stone.

He collapses on top of me, careful not to crush me but capturing me in a cocoon of warmth. Nuzzling against me, he says, “You’re my everything, Char.”

The corners of my lips kick up in a smile. “Right back at you, babe.”

Chuckling, he rolls to one side so he can clean us both off. Within minutes of making sure I have candy on the nightstand in case my blood sugar drops and ensuring that I’m okay and comfortable, he passes out, wrapped in a nest of peaceful slumber. I swear there could be a herd of buffalo wrestling in the room next to us and a marching band in the hallway, and still, the moment his head hit the pillow, he’d be out for the count. It’s seriously impressive. On a good night, it takes an hour of creating fake scenarios before I fall asleep.

Even in a post-orgasmic haze, my body and mind are restless, so I head to the living area to work on my Boston Panthers commission. Tonight, I’m bead embroidering Goose’s likeness onto a large piece of denim that I’ll attach to the back of the jacket. It’s a newer skill I haven’t quite mastered, but I’m having fun figuring it out.

I’m in the zone, perfecting Goose’s left ear, when a bang sounds on the hotel door. I jump, dropping my needle, and a row of yellow and orange beads fall into the plush carpet, forever lost. Ugh . Annoyed, I pick up my needle to get back to work.

Before I can do more than that, a deep, muffled voice says, “Charlotte, Lucas, are you in there?”

There’s no mistaking the visitor’s identity. Theo’s speaking at full volume, with no regard to the hallway full of sleeping hotel guests. I’m too confused to do anything but stare at the door.

What the fuck is he doing here?

“ Hello ,” he says again, elongating the word as he smacks the door repeatedly. “Don’t ignore me. We need to talk.”

Scoffing, I stomp down my irritation. I’ve been ready to speak for the past month, but he decides now is the best time to have a discussion? And now that he’s ready, he’s impatient about it?

“If you don’t answer the door, I’m going to be forced to burst in there like an AFP agent. That would suck because one, the hotel will charge me for damages, and two, there’s a high chance I’ll hurt myself since this door is what? Three, four inches thick? Great for security, but?—”

“Be there in a minute,” I call out loud enough for him to hear me. “Hold on.”

I pause the movie I’ve had playing in the background and throw on a pair of pants. When I pull the door open, Theo is squaring his shoulders, posed like he’s Bruce Lee.

“Seriously, Theodore?” I ask with an unimpressed eye roll. “I told you to give me a second.”

“You said a minute,” he corrects me, “and you’ve never been on time in your life, so I was simply being preemptive.”

“ It’s the middle of the night,” I argue, and before I can think better of it, I add, “but I suppose I’d rather you’re the one showing up late and not my period. ”

Theo looks at me in pure horror, his face probably mirroring my own. I seriously need to stop bringing menstruation into conversations.

Desperate for a distraction, I cross my arms over my chest and ask, “Are you going to tell me why you’re here?”

Frowning, he peers around me into the room. “Where’s Lucas?”

“Asleep.”

“Oh.” He purses his lips, then shrugs. “I was going to chat with you at the party, but I took a nap and accidentally set my alarm to a.m. instead of p.m., so I just woke up.”

Not waiting for a reply, he walks through the door as if I’ve extended an invitation to do so. He wanders toward the couch, eyeing the coffee table covered in beads, a few Panthers shirts and jerseys, and a denim jacket. “What are you working on?”

“Cole Berrett commissioned me to make a custom jacket for his girlfriend.”

His eyes widen. “Seriously?”

“Yes,” I huff, propping my fists on my hips. “Is it really that surprising that someone would ask me to make them a piece?”

“Fuck, no. That’s not what I meant.” He cracks his knuckles. “I meant seriously as in seriously, that’s amazing , not that’s seriously stupid. ”

I narrow my eyes, not fully buying it. “Your track record sucks, so I wasn’t sure.”

He nods, a crease appearing between his brows. “Fair enough.”

I move to sit on the arm of the couch, and he follows, seating himself on the edge of the armchair, his hands clasped tightly in his lap. He looks like a nervous student about to be lectured by the principal, but after he ghosted me for weeks, I’m happy to let him sweat a little.

“I wanted to reach out over break, but I kept chickening out,” he admits, twisting his hands. “I let you down big time, Lottie, and the shittiest part is that I didn’t even realize how much until Lucas spoon-fed it to me. You gave up your dream school, and I didn’t even know you applied. I wish you would’ve told me, but I wish even more that you hadn’t felt like you couldn’t or that your needs and wants weren’t important as mine. They are. I need you to know that.”

My eyes sting at his words. With a deep inhale through my nose, I swallow back the emotion. “This is a really good apology except for the part where you haven’t actually said sorry yet.”

Theo barks out a laugh. “I’m sorry, Lottie. I should have been there for you, supporting you like you’ve always supported me. Lucas reminded me that everyone’s still figuring their shit out, and I need to be supportive of your dreams, not judgmental. Okay, he shoved it down my throat when he reamed me out for being an arsehole, but it was deserved. And as far as you and Lucas go… I know you don’t want or need my blessing, but you have it either way.”

My heart stumbles over itself. “Yeah?”

“Mm-hmm,” Theo says with a resolute nod. “If he wants to spend the rest of his life with someone who snores and needs eighty alarms to get up in the morning, then more power to him.”

I pick up a pillow and throw it at him, laughing at his comment. “Arsehole.”

Chuckling, he tosses it back at me. “Not wanting you two together has more to do with me than either of you, which is selfish. You both deserve to be happy.”

Reaching into his back pocket, he pulls out a small, slim box and holds it out with an expectant smile. I take it and carefully open it, not knowing what to expect. It’s not that Theo’s bad at giving gifts—he loves presents more than anyone I know—but he’s just as likely to buy me an air fryer as he is a Cartier LOVE ring .

“It’s a gift card to the Formula 1 shop,” he blurts out, as if I hadn’t already figured that out for myself. The sleek black card with the F1 logo was sort of a dead giveaway.

“Huh,” I say, tilting my head to the side while pursing my lips. It’s not that I’m ungrateful, simply confused.

“It’s so you can buy merch,” he explains, his voice hesitant. “Then you can cut it up into bits and pieces to use for new race day outfits. They also have pins and patches and stuff that could be cool to use.”

My chest tightens with emotion as I take in his earnest expression. It means a lot that he took the extra step to show his support. I stand and open my arms, and he does the same, then I wrap him up in a hug. “That’s really sweet, Theodore. Thank you.”

When he pulls back, he grins at me, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Course. At first, I was going to get you a gift card to that online vintage store you like, but I must’ve gotten the name wrong, because when I searched for it, I ended up on some website for people who have a fetish for?—”

“Nope.” I hold up a hand. “I don’t need to know. Keep your search history to yourself, please and thank you.”

He chuckles. “Whether you want to design a million outfits or never pick up a needle again, I’ve got your back. I want you to be happy, and honestly, you making unique one-of-a-kind shit that has people doing a double take? That makes sense.”

“I don’t think anyone’s?—”

“They are,” he tells me, nodding vigorously. “I love gossip, in case you didn’t know, so I’m in the loop. I know what people are talking about around the paddock. Before the break, it was your outfits, Harry’s new girlfriend, and the secret love child the Porsche team principal may have.”

How and where he gets his information is unbeknownst to me, but I have a feeling if I asked him about the penis piercing and tattoo rumors, he could trace them back to their original sources.

“That’s nice to hear,” I admit, pride rushing through me.

“It’s well-deserved.” Grinning, he throws two thumbs-up, which is extremely cringey. “What else are you working on?”

I locate my design journal from beneath the denim jacket and hand it to him. As he flips through, noting his favorite helmet designs from over the years, his lips quirk up. I turn to my current sketches and show him the mock-up of the jacket for Maya. Naturally, he makes some creative suggestions, and while I’d rather walk through an airport barefoot than implement most of them, I do like his idea to use a pin from the Panthers’ Stanley Cup as the name tag on Goose’s bedazzled collar.

He stays for a bit, and while we don’t get into the details of my relationship, he does tell me he plans to talk to Lucas tomorrow morning, although he won’t be apologizing for tackling him, since he thinks it was well within his rights as my older brother.

Once he’s gone, I’m tired enough to go to bed, so I slip under the covers and curl up against Lucas’s broad, warm body. He stirs slightly as I rest my head on his chest, pulling me closer, but his breathing remains deep, signaling that Theo’s grand entrance didn’t wake him. I nuzzle into him, loving the comfort of his embrace. He smells like soap and my minty whitening toothpaste—the stuff he uses even after he looked up reviews online and swears is using false advertising.

I take a moment to admire the clean lines of his freshly shaven face, the curve of his eyebrows, the way his nose scrunches slightly in his sleep, the chain he wears around his neck dangling to the side. I’ve never craved routine, but with Lucas, I see the beauty in waking up to the same smile every day and falling asleep next to the person whose heart beats in sync with mine. He’s where I feel most like myself—I can be me without fear of being too much, too little, not enough. For all the adventures I’ve been on, Lucas Adler is my favorite one.