Chapter 11

The thirteen-hour journey from Heathrow to Doha, then Doha to Indira Gandhi Airport, then to the hotel, went by excruciatingly slowly when all I could do was hang my head in shame at the night before.

Even whenLucapicked me up from the airport, I couldn’t help but cringe when he brought up his teammate. I dismissed myself and slept deeply until my alarm went off.

It was the only reprieve from thinking about Nix.

I busied myself with work, going through the emails Adam had sent me. I downloaded them all to my laptop before putting them into the pre-prepared files for every article about him so they easily correlated.

They’d reactivated my account but were unable to retrieve my sent emails, just those that had been directly replied to, which wasn’t much when it came to my pleas for the papers to stop.

Then, I worked on a few brand deals Clara had been sent since the release of her relationship with Nix. She had yet to hire anyone to help her socials, and seeing as I had recently taken over managing the grid girls too, it didn’t hurt to elevate her this way.

Except they wanted to video call her during the start of Sunday’s race.

And they were being difficult about rearranging.

Then there was Nix’s charity, the different dirt bike courses he’d planned across the world, and finalising the last few commitments before announcing to the public a softer side of him. It was hard not to think about Nix when thinking about Nix was my job.

But my mind wandered to more than just his public image.

What was he doing just down the hall? What would happen if I knocked? Asked for that booty call he’d mentioned?

The riders didn’t have their trailers this far East, so they were lumped into the same hotel as us. Which meant we all had quite the upgrade. But his room would undoubtedly be better than mine. What if I just went to see…

Not getting very far with the emails Adam had sent over, I headed down to get some of the tension out of my body with a gym session withLucaand his PT. It helped me feebly release the anger at my whole situation, and I rewarded myself by going to the spa to de-stress in the sauna.

I loved the rough, dry air in a sauna. I loved the sweat and the way I felt rejuvenated after. I could sweat out the remaining negativity from the last week and relax, watching every grain of sand in the timer and not think of anything.

Meditate.

I got into my bikini in the luxury changing rooms, rinsed myself in the shower and wrapped my towel around me, only to be met by Frank in the corridor, dripping with water in his swimming trunks. Girls swooned, screamed and waved whenever he was around.

Yet all I wanted to do was sneak past him.

“Livie,” he said with a smile, leaning back against the wall outside of the sauna, the handle only inches from where I stood. His eyes flickered over me before he caught himself with a startled blink. “Didn’t know you were back.”

“Only last night,” I said, holding the towel tight. “Jet-lag’sa bitch, though.”

“Indeed she is,” he agreed and looked over his shoulder back to the spa. “I thought I was done, but… if you’re going to stick around, I wouldn’t say no to some time in a hot tub.”

I laughed and shook my head. “More of a sauna girl, myself.”

He screwed up his nose. “Not for me. If you ever want some bubbles, though, let me know.”

I smiled weakly as he left. I’d have to shut that down at some point instead of taking the easy option of nodding along.

The sauna windows were covered in condensation, so I didn’t see who was in the little wooden room until the heat hit me.

Two other riders whom I had met but couldn’t recall their names and one of the managers. And NixonArmas.

Bearded. Damn it, I couldn’t tell if I preferred him with or without it.

There was very little space with all of the sweaty bodies, but Nix threw a thumb over his shoulder. “Room on the back bench.”

So I climbed up to sit behind him, checking the placement of my towel and that my legs didn’t touch his back.

I eyed the sand timer. They only had a couple of minutes left. I could handle that.

The three men continued their conversation in Spanish. Nixon’s head fell back, resting beside where I sat on the bench, eyes closed. My fingers were so close I could easily run my hands through his hair.

He didn’t contribute anything other than a grunt or a thoughtful hum, and only when I caught the others saying his name. His hums just drew my attention to his Adam’s apple, clearly jutting out from his thick pillar of a neck.

I crossed my knees, trying to stare straight ahead.

Eventually, the timer ran out, and the men got up and left. I shuffled in my seat, expecting Nix to move away.

He didn’t.

“Not a fan of bubbles?” he asked, eyes still closed. “Why are you lying to him, Livid?”

I gritted my teeth.

“You waiting for him to pull out the big guns? Michelin restaurant, champagne, flowers?”

“No.”

“Then what are you waiting for? You love the hot tub.”

I frowned. True, but how did he know that? I’d never been in one with him.

He rose a brow, waiting for me to answer.

What did he expect me to say? I wasn’t above using someone to make another jealous? I was suddenly uninterested in every man other than him and despising myself for it?

“I came down here to sweat.”

A slow smirk spread across his face. “You’re in the right place for that,” he laughed and opened his eyes to look directly up at me. “I’m willing to help, of course.”

My breath became harsher in the dry air. The water from the shower had long dried up and I was left with a sheen of sweat across my body. I tried to refuse to look at him, but my eyes couldn’t help but wander down to his chest.

He was bigger than the other riders. Taller, wider. Which should have held him back, not made him a three-time champion. But, fuck, those abs. And his hair was wet like in the picture.

“Like what you see?” he asked again. “My eyes are up here, Livid.”

I swallowed and blinked away the image of his chiselled, beautiful body. “I’m sober now.”

He turned to face me, lifting a leg onto his bench. His foot touched mine. “Is that right?”

“Yes,” I snapped, stretching my back with a sigh. “You did well at the domestic abuse charity — and the dirt tracks you’re funding look good.”

“I enjoyed it,” he said and he started to run his finger up my calf. It didn’t feel good, not the way my thighs clenched or how I nearly let the words ‘don’t stop’ slip from my lips. It did not feel good. “There was no press.”

“I know,” I told him, not completely focused on our conversation.

“That made it better. I don’t want to only do these things for that.”

I nodded. “Good.”

“How was London?”

I shrugged, letting myself enjoy his touch. “London hasn’t changed much. It was okay. I probably have to go back this month.”

“Why?”

“More details to share with the lawyers,” I said as his touch heightened, an inch below the crease of my knee. “And I like spending time with my brother.”

His head cocked towards me, a frown growing. But looking down at him again, I couldn’t help but see the glimmer of sweat across his body.

“Your brother,” he repeated and sighed. He finally got it. “You stayed with your brother.”

“Yeah,” I said, distracted by how his muscles moved as he turned to face me fully.

“Take off the towel, Livid.”

I looked up. “What?”

He knelt on the bench, hands on either side of my hips. “I told you to take off the towel. You can’t ogle me if I can’t ogle you.”

“Nix,” I warned, eyes darting to the door. “That night on the phone… that was a mistake.”

“And yet the way you’re looking at me says it wasn’t,” he said and gestured down to himself.

Asurefireway of getting him angry, to ignore me and hate me again, was bringing up his schedule. “You’ve won the last seven races at theBuddhCircuit, yet your manager said you can’t stay for a single interview?”

His eyes narrowed at my change of topic. “What game are you playing?”

I shrugged. “No game.”

“Then let’s play one,” he said. “I’ll answer a question: you take off an item of clothing.”

I snorted, unable to control it. “Nix, I have three pieces of clothing on me.”

“Three?” he asked, sitting back on his heels. “So, there’s a bikini under there?”

“Why aren’t you available for any interviews?”

“The towel.”

I rolled my eyes and untied the towel around my chest. “What is it you want?” I asked, still holding it in place .

“I told you what I want,” he said with a smirk. “But, for now, I want to see you.”

I removed the towel. His heated gaze journeyed up and down my body and I looked away at the sand timer. What he’d imagined of my body when we were on the phone was probably far different to the reality.

His touch skimmed the back of my knee and I flinched as it tickled, pressing my thighs together.

“I want to touch you,” he said darkly. “I didn’t lie on the phone. You didn’t either.”

He looked up at me, blue eyes serious. I didn’t deny it. Mostly because I was scared of what I would say if I opened my mouth.

“You said you wanted me to touch you,” he said, working the sensitive skin of my knee again, his other hand stroking up my thigh, each time getting closer to my bikini bottoms.

His hands were so warm and rough.

The light sweat on my body wasn’t just from the saunaanymore.

“Where did you want my touch? Here?”

I shook my head. Small, quick movements. Not there.

“Around your neck? A little hand necklace?”

I breathed a laugh. Later. At some point. But not right now. There was somewhere else throbbing for his attention.

“Over your panties?” he asked and pried my legs open. It wasn’t really a fight.

His pointer finger traipsed further up my thigh to the edge of my bikini. Innocently on my hip.

But then it travelled down the seam, closer to where I really did want his touch.

“No, not over my panties,” I breathed. Fuck, I’d do anything to feel his skin on mine. Not this sweet, hesitant movement. Everything .

He’d been watching his touch, but he looked up at me through his lashes with a dark smile. “Under?”

It was too hot in the sauna. We’d been in here too long. We’d—Oh, god, but I couldn’t leave now.

My nod was eager.

“Mmm,” he moaned and, over my bikini, he ran his finger up my slit, stopping just at my clit and circling there. The friction made my breaths shallow as he toyed with me. “You make me so hard, Livid. I can’t wait to get past these.” He pulled at the string and let the elastic go, snapping my skin. I jolted forward, pushing myself back into his hand. He cupped me, his thumb running across me, hitting my clit with each stroke. “Let me take them off.” He bent to press a kiss to my thigh, inches away from where his hand worked me. “Let me touch you how you want. Let me make you come.”

My thighs separated further, inviting him to do whatever he wanted.

He groaned, deep at the back of his throat as his fingers skimmed the edge of the bikini, dipping just under the material and running up and down. He muttered in French, so low and fast I couldn’t make out what he said before pressing a kiss to my inner thigh.

My breath caught.

And with the next kiss, closer, I swallowed, my fingers holding the planks of wood I sat upon tightly.

I didn’t care for splinters.

I cared for nothing but his mouth. His fingers. Him.

NixonArmaswas going to pull my bikini off and go down on me. In this very public sauna. Surrounded by our co-workers.

But all of that left me as his finger slid further under the fabric. My breath was harsh. His mouth was pressed to the seam of my bottoms, and I was just closing my eyes in pleasure when a shadow appeared before the glass doors.

I shoved Nix away and shot so far back on the wooden seat that my back hit the wall and I winced. Nix’s eyes widened in alarm, but when the door opened, he sat back on his heels in front of me.

“I’ll book some interviews for Sunday,” I blurted, crossing my legs, the towel over my lap. “After the race. Hi,Cesari.”

Cesariwas one of the other racers who only spoke a few words outside of Italian. My panicked garble would have gone over his head. He nodded and gave a small wave before sitting on the other side of the sauna.

Nix didn’t stop touching me, his hand around my ankle, but out of view as he sat properly once again. “I’m flying early after.”

“How early?” I asked, still a little breathless. It was so hot. It was too hot.

“Got to see an old friend,” he said, eyes latched on my cleavage peaking out.

“A friend?” I repeated, not holding back my frustration. Must be some friend for him to see them with such necessity.

“Don’t be jealous,” he chuckled, struggling to look away from my body. I stopped trying to wriggle away. “My friendVelazco.”

I recognised that name. Wait, no…

Surely he didn’t mean PedroVelazco, theCiclatianalyst before Abbe joined a few years ago? Not the one that had used the championship to traffic drugs across the world.

“No,” I said, disbelief and disgust thick within the syllable. I pulled the towel back around my chest for him to frown.

“What?”

“Your friend is getting out of prison this weekend!” I hissed, glancing atCesariwho had his eyes closed, head back. “ You need to get as far away from that and him as possible. You’re not going.”

“You don’t control my life,” he grunted.

All lust had gone.

“I’m telling Cris.”

“My friend needs me right now,” he argued, letting me go.

“Then give him a call!” I said, voice raised. “But don’t go to his bloody house! Do you need to talk to him more than you need to save your career?”

“My career doesn’t need saving,” he snapped. Then paused, turning away from me. “It’s much easier to talk to you when you’re five thousand miles away. I prefer you like that.”

“I prefer it when you don’t try and flirt with me to be able to go to silly, drug-fuelled parties!” I cried through gritted teeth. “For crying out loud, Nix, how stupid are you?”

“You’re overstepping,” he muttered, already standing and going for the door. “You’re not my manager.”

“I might as well be! I’m managing you more than he is.”

But he shook his head and left me. No matter how much I had wanted to be in the sauna, no matter how much I wanted to relax, that was no longer possible.