Page 57 of Racing for Redemption (Backmarker Love trilogy #1)

Yearning

Violet

H is head rests heavily on my shoulder, a weight I’ve missed without realizing it.

His warmth and smell resembles coming home.

I keep my eyes forward, scanning the room of industry players who would love nothing more than to catch Colton Racing’s CEO and Team Principal in a compromising position with her driver.

The champagne buzzes pleasantly in my veins, making it harder to remember why I’ve kept him at arm’s length these past months.

It's been a while since we tumbled into bed with promises of no strings, only to find invisible threads connecting us anyway.

“How are you feeling?” I whisper, my voice barely audible above the ambient chatter.

The question pulls him from whatever trance he’s fallen into. He lifts his head, and suddenly, his face is inches from mine, hazel eyes searching, intense. Close enough that I can smell the champagne on his breath, see the flecks of gold in his irises .

“Fine,” he says, the corner of his mouth lifting. “Great venue, right? Love a good gala. The pinnacle of entertainment.”

I don’t smile back. “You know that’s not what I’m asking.”

His playful expression falters. “What do you want me to say? That I want you? That I think about you every waking hour?” His voice drops lower, rough with emotion. “That I think maybe I made a mistake by sleeping with you... and pushing you away?”

The raw honesty in his words steals my breath. He finds my hand, cautious at first, then intertwines our fingers completely. He looks down at our joined hands, then back into my eyes with an intensity that makes my heart stutter.

What he feels for me lives in his eyes—deeper than desire, more complex than simple attraction. It scares me.

I already know; what he feels for me runs deeper than our one night was supposed to allow. I see it in the way his gaze softens when it lands on me, in how he seeks me out across crowded rooms.

“You knew what you were getting into that night, William.” My words sound hollow, even to me. “I never lied to you. My work takes me all over the world. I’m trying my hardest to acquire funding for this team, to keep the dream alive.”

“I understand.” He traces the veins on the inside of my wrist with his thumb.

“But I’ve become selfish for you, Violet.

Greedy. Needy.” He leans closer, his breath warm against my ear.

“I want a bit of your time. Anything. Something. A moment where you’re mine, even if it’s not forever.

Hell, even a message from time to time works for me, Violet. ”

A server passes with another tray of champagne. William doesn’t reach for one. Neither do I. Before I can respond, the announcer’s voice booms through the speakers, asking guests to take their seats for the presentation.

William reluctantly unclasps his sweaty hand from mine.

We walk to the Colton Racing table in silence, joining Blake and Nicholas.

Nicholas has found a plus one—some willowy model with legs for days, who laughs too loudly at everything he says.

I predict a migraine within the next thirty minutes if she continues laughing like that.

“Looks like Nicholas found company,” Blake comments dryly as we sit down.

“When doesn’t he?” William mutters, a faint edge in his voice.

The presentation drags on—the same platitudes about heritage and innovation that fill every Formula 1 event. When it finally ends, the lights dim, and a DJ takes over. The dance floor fills with bodies moving to a bass-heavy remix.

William stands. I look up, expecting him to head for the bar. Instead, he steps behind my chair, leaning down, so his lips nearly brush my ear.

“You can’t say you miss me and not give me anything.” His voice is rough. “Leave me hanging…”

He turns my chair slightly and kneels beside me, finding my hip with a gentle hand.

He leans in, his nose brushing against mine in a gesture so intimate, it makes my heart stutter.

Then, his lips are on mine, soft and tentative at first, then deeper, more insistent, hungrier.

The kiss stretches out, claiming all my attention until the gala, the music, the people—everything fades away.

When he pulls back, his eyes are dark. “I’ve missed you so much.”

The raw honesty in those words breaks something loose inside me. I grab his hand, fingers interlacing with his.

“We’re leaving,” I say, my voice steady despite the storm inside me.

I lead him through the crowd, not caring who sees us now. Outside, the Monaco night is warm, stars hidden by the glow of casino lights. We catch a taxi to the hotel, sitting in charged silence, his knee pressed against mine the entire ride.

The elevator is empty. We stand a careful foot apart, staring at the rising floor numbers. His reflection in the mirrored wall shows his jaw clenched tight, his eyes never leaving my face. This is becoming a repeat of that night.

The hallway to my room stretches forever. I unlock the door with the key card, and when the door finally clicks open, we step inside, the automatic lock engaging behind us.

William moves toward the coat hanger, shrugging off his jacket. I don’t give him time to hang it. I grab his shoulders and shove him against the wall, pinning him there with my body. The sudden move surprises him, but then his eyes darken with heat.

“I don’t even know what to do with you right now,” I whisper, my voice rough with need.

He finds my hips, thumbs brushing the silk of my dress. “I’ve got some suggestions.” His dimples appear as he smiles, eyes softening in a way that makes my chest ache. “But I’m open to your ideas, Violet.”

I surge forward, claiming his mouth. This kiss is nothing like the one at the gala—this is sloppy, needy, intense.

He slides his hands up my back, one tangling in my hair, the other pressing me closer against him.

The champagne on his tongue tastes sweet, the hardness of his body against mine making me moan.

When I finally break the kiss, I rest my head on his shoulder, breathing hard. “Fuck. I’m going crazy.”

“Join the club,” he murmurs into my hair, arms wrapped around me tight enough to anchor me. “Two months of membership, and all I got was this lousy, crushing sense of longing.”

The joke makes me smile against his shirt, but there’s truth in the words that squeeze my heart. When he wraps his arms around me, it feels right in a way that terrifies me—perfect, intense, brimming with unspoken emotions I can't even start to document.

“I have your watch,” I tell him, voice muffled against his chest.

He strokes my back. “Keep it. Looks better on you, anyway.”

I pull back enough to see his face. “You never told me why it matters so much to you.”

William’s eyes grow distant. “My grandfather gave it to me when I won my first karting championship. Said time was the only opponent that mattered in the end.” He brushes his thumb against my wrist where the watch usually sits under my suit. “When he died, it was the only thing of his I wanted. ”

“And you left it with me.” The weight of that gesture settles on me anew.

“I wanted you to have something of mine. Something that mattered.” His voice drops. “In case you decided I didn’t.”

We stay there, pressed against the wall, until William chuckles softly. “As romantic as this hallway is, your room has a perfectly good bed.”

"I don't care where we are. I want you now.

" I say as we collide again, hands frantically working at buttons and zippers.

His bow tie drops to the floor. My dress follows.

His shirt tears—one button pinging against the baseboard—but neither of us care.

His body is revealed, all lean muscle and tattoos snaking up his arms. I caress his chest with my fingers, then my tongue.

I trail kisses down his torso, feeling his abs contracting as our contact intensifies.

I drop to my knees, looking up at him through my lashes as I tug his belt open.

“Violet—” His voice breaks as I free him, hard and ready.

“Let me,” I whisper, taking him in my hand. “I’ve thought about this.” More than I want to admit.

His head falls back against the wall with a thud as I take him into my mouth for the first time. He blindly grabs my hair, gentle at first, then more insistent as I take his cock deeper.

“ Fuuuck , your mouth.” His voice is strained. “So perfect.”

I work him with my hands and mouth, watching his reactions, learning what makes his breath catch, what draws out those low moans that vibrate through me. He’s not quiet; every stroke of my tongue pulls a groan or curse from his lips. His honesty in pleasure is intoxicating.

He begins moving his hips in rhythm with my mouth, his hands cradling my head with surprising tenderness, guiding me. I look up to find him watching me, his pupils blown wide.

“You’re so beautiful,” he gasps. “So fucking good at this. I’m not going to last.”

I double my efforts, wanting to take him apart completely. His firm thighs tense under my hands.

“Violet, I’m—” He tries to pull back, but I hold him firm, wanting everything.

He comes with a shout, his hand tightening in my hair, holding me against him as he pulses into my mouth. Nothing goes to waste, and his face contorts in pleasure.

When I finally stand, my legs trembling slightly, he’s looking at me with something like awe.

“Are you okay?” he asks, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear as he helps me get up, his hand gentle and steady against my lower back.

I laugh, suddenly shy despite what we’ve just done. “I think I should be asking you that. You’re quite the moaner, William.”

“Proudly so.” He grins, pulling me against him. He grips my ass. “If I’m feeling that good, why stay quiet? That’s terrible feedback for my partner.”

He kisses my cheek, then my jaw, then my neck, roaming his hands over my body as he focuses on removing the last pieces of clothing covering me. “Now,” he murmurs against my skin, “let me show you how much I’ve missed you.”