Page 63 of Overdrive (Speed Demons #1)

In the stillness that followed, with night pressing against the windows, I realized we’d crossed a line that couldn’t be undone. What started as a rivalry had become something else—something real. As undeniable as the marks we’d left on each other’s skin.

I relaxed onto the desk, still tangled with him, his fingers lazily tracing my thigh. For a moment, I let myself forget the world outside this room. Let myself melt into his warmth, into the safety of it.

“Never knew victory tasted this sweet,” he murmured against my neck, the words wrapped in amusement… and something deeper.

“Keep talking like that, and you’ll spoil me for all other men,” I said, heart still racing but oddly… steady. There was peace in the rhythm of his breathing.

I felt safe. Unbearably so.

“Good,” he said, simple and certain, possessive, even. It should’ve warned me off, but it didn’t.

“Good,” I echoed, knowing full well how complicated this was already. But in that moment, I let myself sink into the afterglow. IntoCallum. Into us.

Our breathing slowed in sync, sweat-slick skin sticking together, and the illusion began to shatter.

When he pulled away, the warmth between us vanished like mist in the morning sun. He pressed a kiss to my forehead—too soft, too sweet—and murmured, “Be right back,” before disappearing into the bathroom.

The door clicked shut.

And just like that, I was alone again. Reality seeped in—slow and cold, like the chill of the desk beneath me.

Shit.

Yeah, we’d gone over the limit, crossed the line, and I was probably too far down this path with him now to make a full recovery.

The moment had passed, his warmth and touch gone, leaving me only with the scent of him on my skin—like sweat, masculine, and something woodsy.

Something I wanted to be wrapped up in, and yet, I knew it was time for me to go based on his abrupt escape. Shit. Fuck fuck fuck.

I sat up, the desk cool under my skin—too stark a contrast to the heat he’d left behind. My eyes dropped to my clothes, twisted and half-on, fabric rumpled and bunched at awkward angles. I was a canvas of chaos—kissed, clawed, claimed.

Tonight had been explosive. Reckless. Unprofessional.

Dangerous for my heart.

Doubt crept in like a shadow, quiet but relentless. It whispered that this was the part where I made my exit. That whatever this was—it had already run its course.

I stood, wincing slightly. My heels were on the floor where they’d been kicked off, flung like caution. I crouched to grab them, hair falling in my face, and when I straightened, I caught my reflection in the mirror.

I almost didn’t recognize her. The polished, composed version ofAurélieDuboiswas gone. This girl? She was flushed and breathless, hair wild, lips raw from kisses. She looked… loved.

And I hated how badly I wanted that to be true.

I blinked hard and turned away, like that might erase the girl I’d just seen.

“Time to move on,” I whispered, voice trembling despite my best efforts.

The woman in the mirror nodded. Her spine straightened. Her eyes hardened .

I slipped back into my armor. Pulled on my panties, straightened my clothes—not that it helped, the fabric was still twisted and out of place. Like me.

I was already bracing for the awkward goodbye.

My clutch had fallen near the entry. I stooped to grab it, the finality of what we just did hit like the closing of a door I wasn’t ready to walk through. I held it to my chest, steadied my breathing, and reminded myself exactly what this had been.

A mistake.

No matter how good it felt.

I wasn’t the woman he’d want to keep around. Just another heat-of-the-moment decision in a long list of them. Which was exactly what I’d tried to avoid sincepre-seasontesting in Bahrain.

God, what the hell was I thinking? How did I let this happen?

Get it together, Dubois.

The woman in the mirror didn’t flinch now. She just stared back, unyielding, untouchable. The racer, the sister, the fighter in a sport built for men. And then… the liar. The one whose family would never forgive her if they knew the truth.

I took a sharp breath, trying to force everything back into the vault I’d buried it in.

For just a moment, here all alone, I let myself admit the truth. I was tired of the running, pretending, carrying guilt. Months ago, I made a decision that looked clean on the outside—a promotion, a career move—but inside, it was an escape. A selfish choice, maybe, but a necessary one.

I’d needed to get away from him —my ex whose name still curdled in the back of my throat. My hands curled into fists at my sides. A cold sweat pricked my skin as the memory clawed it’s way back in.

He wasn’t a villain on the surface. That was what made him so dangerous. No one knew what he’d said or done to me. The way he’d fucked with my mind and made me doubt everything I thought I was. I hadn’t just left the team.

I’d fled.

And to this day, I still didn’t know if the world would see it that way .

The woman in the mirror wasn’t the fearlessAurélieDuboisthe media knew. She was just a girl who’d been hurt. A girl who still didn’t know if she was worth more than one night of someone’s attention.

I blinked again.

Enough. You had your moment. Now put the walls back up.

I took a deep breath to rein my thoughts back in. For now, in this brief interlude of quiet before he reemerged, I allowed myself the luxury of just beingAurélie—one who had dared to taste the forbidden fruit and found it both bitter and sweet.

I adjusted my top again, like it would be any different than two minutes ago.

I still looked wrecked. My bra peeked out, my hair was a mess, my face heat-streaked, and my whole body felt like it had been claimed—marked in ways no mirror could fix.

I was soft and scraped raw, and that made me dangerous to myself.

My pulse thudded as I stared at the door.

Any second now, he’d walk out, and I’d have to face whatever version ofCallumFraser I was about to get—smooth and distant, or worse, indifferent.

I prepped for the inevitable. Told myself it was fine. I’d hold my head high and pretend I hadn’t unraveled completely under his touch, that it hadn’t meant more than it should have. I’d leave with my pride.

Just another night for the both of us.

Yeah. I knew how to do this part.

The mask. The confidence. The detachment. And if I was lucky, he’d be cold enough to make it easier.

“Never twice,” I muttered, like a fucking mantra. “Let alone thrice.”

Everyone knewCallumFraser didn’t do repeats.

I’d made it to round two by sheer accident or drunken momentum or some twisted mercy of the universe.

But that was it. That was all I got. The rumor had been consistent for years.

One night, one time, one girl at a time.

No strings. No repeats. No mess. I wasn’t supposed to be the exception.

My heart was pounding again.

Not from sex .

From fear that maybe I did want to be the exception and knowing I never would be.

As soon as the bathroom door opened, I turned to face him—calm and composed. He looked clean, quiet, and unreadable. Not smiling. Not frowning. Just… observing. Surely this was the part where he’d offer some smooth exit line. So mething charming and distant to let me off the hook with grace.

Honestly?

I probably deserved it.