A burst of laughter escapes his lips, and I revel in how it rolls through my body. “What?”
“I wondered if I smelled like Box O’ Chix. The scent of fried foods hung in the air in that place.”
“No, you don’t. But if you did? I wouldn’t care.”
I roll around so I’m facing him. “Liar.”
“Not lying.”
“LYING!” I say, flicking him on the forehead.
Now he’s laughing again, and I am, too. He moves his hands to my waist, and even though we had sex twice last night and once this morning, I could go again whenever he puts his hands on me like this.
“You smell sweet,” he says, brushing his lips against mine. “Nothing like a two-piece with chips.”
I grin at him, and he drags his thumbs across my hip bones.
“We do have to get up, though. Not just to get breakfast and coffee, but I have to go shopping. I need to buy some things for this space because it looks like a hotel room. And don’t you have to go train your neck or something?”
I’ve seen videos of Caleb doing neck training on social media. Drivers have to build up their neck strength to withstand the g-forces of racing, which can make their heads feel five times the actual weight with their helmets on. Caleb does this several ways, but the one that looks the most intense is when a harness is attached to his head, and his trainer pulls on it while he has to withstand it. It looks painful, but it’s necessary.
“How did you know it’s neck day?” he asks.
“Is it?” I ask eagerly.
“You have a kink about my neck,” he says, a mischievous smile playing on his lips.
I feel my face grow hot.
“Oh, yousohave a kink about my neck,” Caleb teases.
“F1 drivers have amazing necks,” I manage.
“But what aboutmyneck?”
“Oh? You don’t want my thoughts on Mason’s neck? Or Xavier’s? Wait, what about Adrien? I can share my thoughts on his neck,” I offer helpfully.
He scowls. “No.”
I giggle. “Well, I’m glad you didn’t ask because I have only studied your neck in depth. Your neck,” I say, lifting one hand and skimming my fingertips over his perfectly corded muscles, “is perfect. In fact, I might just call itabsolutely beautiful.”
He flashes me a smile. “That was absolutely beautiful” is what Caleb says on the team radio after he wins a race.
“Hopefully you will hear that in Montreal,” he says, suddenly looking determined.
“I can’t wait to hear it,” I say, moving my hand so I can touch his jaw, which is now shaded with black stubble.
Hmm. This is also hot. When I think about his stubble and his neck muscles, I think I’ve changed my mind about getting up.
“I can order some coffee and breakfast if you’ll go downstairs to get it when it’s delivered,” Caleb says. “Just one less chance for me to be spotted if you retrieve it.”
“Okay.”
He gives me a kiss on the bridge of my nose before flicking back the duvet and getting up. I marvel at his naked body, and from the smile twitching on the corners of his mouth, he knows I’m staring at him. Caleb gets up, gathers up his clothing, and heads to the bathroom. I get up and go to my closet, retrieving a pair of jeans and a slightly cropped black T-shirt. As soon as Caleb is out of the bathroom, dressed in his clothes from last night, I step inside and take my turn to get ready. When I come out, he is sitting on my bed, scrolling through his phone.
“What do you want? There’s a little breakfast cafe around the corner that has coffee and stuff.”
I sit down next to him, and as soon as I do, his hand skims over the top of my thigh. Like it’s instinctive to Caleb that if I’m next to him, he has to touch me.