Page 30 of Overdrive (Speed Demons #1)

“Good work out there,” Henric said, clapping me on the shoulder. “We'll fine-tune the setup tonight, but you're in a good place.”

I nodded, setting the tablet aside as I stood. The movement sent a dull ache down my back and radiating through my shoulders. My fingers flexed as I tried to shake off the ache that had crept in. I'd raced tougher tracks, sure, but this tension felt different. Deeper. Like it had taken root.

Nothing I couldn't handle.

I reached for a bottle of water, taking a long sip as I surveyed the garage, rolling my neck slightly.

“Ray.”

The familiar voice made me turn.Kimistood in the entrance, his helmet tucked under his arm. His easy smile and relaxed posture were a welcome change from the garage's environment. No judgment, no whispers, just Kimi being Kimi.

“Kimi. Hey.”

“Fucking killer session,” he said, leaning against the wall. “P4inFP2? Not bad for a rookie.”

I rolled my eyes, but the teasing note in his voice made me laugh. “Not bad for a midfield car, you mean.”

He grinned. “Same thing.”

We fell into a comfortable silence, the hum around us fading into the background.Kimiand I had known each other for years, our careers crossing paths inF3andF2. He'd been promoted toF1two years before I had, but we'd always stayed close.

“How's it been?” he asked finally, his tone softer. “The transition, I mean.”

I hesitated. “It's… a lot. More than I expected. The racing, the media, the politics—it's like a whole different world.”

He nodded, his expression understanding. “You're handling it better than most would. Better than I did, that's for sure.”

“Thanks,Kimi.” The sincerity in his voice was a balm to the self-doubt that had been gnawing at me sinceSuzuka.

“By the way,” he added, his grin returning, but this time there was something too knowing behind it. “Fraser couldn't stop staring afterFP2.”

I blinked. The plastic water bottle crinkled in my hand.

“What are you talking about?” I scoffed.

He chuckled, bumping his shoulder against mine. “You know exactly what I'm talking about,” he said smoothly, tilting his head toward the pit lane. “I'd say he's got it bad.”

My pulse kicked, but I ignored it. Ignored the sudden heat creeping up my neck, ignored the way my skin prickled as if someone was watching me.

No. No fucking way. CallumFraser wasn't?—

He wasn't?—

He wasn't.

I didn't care that he'd been watching. It didn't matter. It wasn't something I was going to think about later when I climbed into bed, staring at the ceiling, trying not to picture the way his fire suit clung to his body.

It wasn't something that sent a wave of heat, hotter than the desert itself, through me.

I didn't replay our fight in Bahrain like a masochist, didn't let myself wonder what would've happened if he hadn't stepped back.

And I definitely didn't think about how his forearms flexed when he was leaning over his car.

I'd never once pictured his head between my thighs, his stubble scraping my skin.

No, I absolutely did not use a variety of vibrators to quench that particular thirst.

I wasn't obsessed. And I sure as fuck wasn't as bad as he was.

I forced my expression into something neutral. Unbothered. But my fingers were still too tight around the water bottle, andKiminoticed. Of course the bastard noticed.

“I don't have time for this,” I muttered, brushing past him.

Kimilet out a low laugh, the sound smug and annoyingly entertained. “Right. Whatever you say,Dubois.”