Hot off the Press | Charles Leclerc | F1

t h i r t y

Fia woke up warm and supremely comfortable. A bird cooed somewhere beyond the window, drawing her out of her half-asleep state. Charles' body was pressed up against hers with his arm slung loosely over her side. She could feel his breath playing with the hairs on the back of her neck. His hand was resting on top of the covers close to hers. She bit her lip and tentatively reached out a finger to stroke the back of it. When he didn't move, she gained confidence, threading their fingers together.

"Good morning." Charles' groggy voice vibrated against her skin as he kissed the nape of her neck.

"Hi," she whispered, half turning to look at him. "Did I fall asleep?"

"Mmm."

Fia stared at their hands, painfully aware of all the places their bodies were touching. She wondered if he was thinking the same thing. Her bum was against his crotch, their legs tangled together. Slowly, she pushed herself back against him and heard his breathing quicken. His hand squeezed hers tighter, lips grazing her shoulder. She could feel his body responding, close as it was to hers, and she marvelled at the joy of finally being alone together.

They could do whatever they wanted, and nobody would know.

Charles brought their hands up to his mouth and planted damp kisses on each of her knuckles. All the lust Fia had been shoring up over the past couple of months fizzled inside her. Her body felt like liquid gold under his touch as he released her hand and ran his fingers down her side, following the curve of her waist and settling over her hipbone, which he gripped tightly. She was ticklish but not unpleasantly so; she arched her back, pressing her body even closer. He let out a frustrated groan. Resting his forehead between her shoulder blades, he laid still for a moment as if thinking. She waited, holding her breath, feeling like she could go up in flames at any moment.

A buzzing sound came from the nightstand as Charles' phone screen lit up. He pulled away and swung his legs over the side of the bed, rubbing his face.

"You're getting up?" Disappointment dripped from her voice.

He nodded. "Unfortunately, I still have to follow my training regime."

Unfortunately. She recognised the rejection in that word; she knew it well. Her months on Sadie's sofa came flooding back, and she scratched at the bedsheets idly, wishing she could hide underneath them.

"Andrea would kill me if I took the day off," Charles continued. "He already texted me to check on what I'm doing. But you could join me for a run?"

Fia took a deep breath, coming down from the brief but intense high of his touch. "How far?"

"You can set the distance," he offered. "And the pace, if you'd like."

"You wouldn't be able to keep up."

He raised an eyebrow. "I'm a professional athlete."

"You're a Formula One driver. I'm a runner."

"A race, then?"

Fia watched with interest as he crossed the room and stood in the doorway, waiting for her response. He was wearing boxer shorts and a tshirt, giving her a wonderful view of his muscular but lean legs. Don't get distracted. She forced her eyes up to focus on his face, which was filled with amusement.

"You really think you can beat me?" she goaded.

Charles shrugged. "Of course."

Evidently, they were both very competitive people.

"Then let's race."

____ 🏎️ ____

Running wasn't the form of exercise Fia had envisioned they'd be doing at eight o'clock in the morning, but it was better than languishing at the villa in the sting of unspent desire. Her body still felt raw from getting so turned on without being satisfied; a solid hour of cardio was exactly what she needed.