Hot off the Press | Charles Leclerc | F1

e i g h t

Nerves twisted in Fia's stomach as she walked down the empty hallway towards Charles' apartment. She'd gone through multiple scenarios in her head—what she'd say if Claudia answered the door, how she'd react if they were obviously in the middle of fucking. Whatever happened next, her mission was to get in and out as quickly as possible. Or, ideally, not get in at all. A simple exchange at the door was the best-case scenario. She'd ask him to post the video; he'd comply. Problem solved. Of course, nothing with Charles was ever that simple.

The last thing she expected was for him to answer the door half-naked, rubbing his eyes.

"Jesus," she hissed, spinning around on her heels and clamping her hands over her face. But not before she'd seen the tanned skin of his bare chest. Not before her eyes had the chance to wander for a split second, following the dip of his v-lines to the waistband of his boxers, slung low around his hips. 

"Fia?"

She tried to ignore how her name sounded in his mouth, thick and low with the fog of sleep.

"What are you doing here?"

She jumped when she felt his hand on her shoulder and shook it off.  "Don't touch me," she said.

His voice came from beside her ear. "Why? Afraid you'll like it?"

She could tell he was close because she caught a whiff of him—faint remnants of citrusy aftershave mixed with a warm, masculine scent. She'd never smelled anything like it before. It invaded her mind like fog, turning thoughts that had once been clear hazy. She switched to breathing through her mouth.

"You wish," she scoffed.

He chuckled, the surprisingly pleasant sound rumbling through his chest. Then his taunting voice snapped her back to reality. "You're the one who's too scared to look at me."

"I'm not scared, Leclerc. You're half naked."

"Exactly."

"Believe it or not, not every woman wants to see you without your clothes on."

"In my experience, you're wrong."

"I guess you've never met a woman like me before then." Fia rolled her eyes. It was to typical of him to think he was God's gift to women. This was exactly why she hated entitled people. It wasn't just objects, jobs and money they thought they deserved more than everyone else; it was people, too.

"I don't doubt it," he said.

She sifted through the rich tones of his voice, trying to decipher layers of meaning in his unfamiliar accent. Had he meant that in a positive way? Doubtful.

This is one of his games, Fia reminded herself. She was getting sidetracked too easily. "I came here for a reason."

"Of course you did."

"What's that supposed to mean?" She was desperate to turn around, to search his face for clues to what he was thinking. But she knew if she did that, she'd lose.

"Are you going to talk to me, or are you going to keep talking to that wall?" His hand found her shoulder again, and this time, for some insane reason, she didn't shake it off. Another waft of his scent washed over her. "Turn around, Fia."

"Put some clothes on." She turned her head just enough to look at the place where his fingers rested against her bare collarbone. She felt the calloused skin of his hand, the warmth of his touch seeping into her. His tanned skin was stark against the white of hers. She took another deep breath. Relax. "Is Claudia with you?"

Charles sounded amused when he replied; she cursed herself, knowing she'd lost points in whatever game they were playing. "No, she isn't. It's just me. Why don't you come inside so I can stop standing in the hallway in my underwear?"