Page 144 of Racing for Redemption
"I'll say this." He takes both my hands in his, eyes never leaving mine. "This contract—it's life-changing money, sure. First time I'll be earning millions. Fuck, that's unreal." He laughs softly, shaking his head. "But that's not why it matters. It matters,because it means I get to stay with you, with this team, doing what I love. I get to be part of building something real."
My throat tightens as I see the sincerity in his eyes.
"I'll give back tenfold," he continues, his voice growing more passionate. "Every lap, every race. Because you're the reason I'm living my dream, Violet. When everyone else slammed doors in my face, you opened one, even if I sort of forced it open. I'm indebted to you in ways I can never fully repay."
I reach up, cupping his bearded face in my palm. The scruff feels rough against my skin, but his expression softens immediately at my touch. He turns his face slightly, pressing a kiss to my palm before covering my hand with his own.
"You don't owe me anything," I whisper. "You earned that seat. You earned everything that's come after."
"Maybe. But I'm in the right place," he says, looking directly into my eyes. "With the right team around me, and the right person in my life."
The words hang between us, profound in their simplicity and devastating in their honesty. Something cracks open inside me—a wall I've built so carefully, stone by stone, since before my dad’s death.
I lean into him, the space between us disappearing like morning mist. I find my way to his chest, feeling his heartbeat through the thin fabric of his band shirt. Strong. Steady. Just like him.
Thunder rumbles—a distant, primal drumbeat accompanying the rain's persistent rhythm. The storm mirrors somethingthat is building inside me, something kept carefully contained until now.
William's eyes search mine, patient yet hungry. He won't push. He never does. It's one of the countless things I've come to—
The word forms in my mind before I can stop it.Love. I've come to crave and need him.
"William," I whisper, my voice catching. "I've never been good at this part."
His smile is gentle, understanding. "Which part is that?"
"The part where I admit I need someone." The confession costs me, but the relief that follows is immediate and profound. "The part where I acknowledge that you've become... essential."
His breath hitches, pupils dilating slightly. "Essential, huh? That might be the most romantic thing you've ever said to me."
I laugh softly, the tension breaking. "Don't get used to it. I have a reputation to maintain."
"Your secret's safe with me." He slides his hand to the nape of my neck, fingers threading through my hair. "Though I think Blake's figured us out. He keeps giving me these knowing looks whenever I mention your name."
"Blake knew before we did," I admit. "He cornered me during the Dubai meetings and said he was not going to judge, but asked if I was happy. Just that—if I was happy."
"And what did you tell him?" William's voice drops lower, his face inches from mine.
"That happiness wasn't a metric I tracked." I trace the line of his jaw with my fingertip. "But if I did..."
He waits, giving me the space to find the words. Always giving me what I need before I know to ask for it.
"If I did," I continue, heart pounding, "the numbers would be trending upward since a certain hot-blooded tattooed driver walked into my office and got on his knees."
William laughs, the sound vibrating through me where our bodies touch. "So romantic."
"I'm a businesswoman, not a poet."
"I don't know." He traces my lower lip. "I think there's poetry in the way you run the team. In how fiercely you protect what—and who—matters to you."
The tenderness in his voice undoes me. I smile, reaching for him. The blanket slides off our laps as I pull him closer, fingers threading through his curls. When our lips meet, it's different from our usual hungry kisses. This one is slower, deeper, filled with everything we've just confessed without actually saying the words.
He frames my face with such tenderness, my chest aches. When we finally break apart, he rests his forehead against mine, his breath warm on my lips.
"Stay," I whisper. Not just for tonight. Not just for sex.Stay.With me.
"Always," he murmurs back, understanding everything I'm not saying.
Outside, the rain continues falling, washing away the old year and ushering in the new. Inside, wrapped in his arms on my no-longer-sterile couch, something I haven't allowed myself tofeel in years finally surfaces—hope. Hope for Colton Racing. Hope for us.
