Chapter 2: I didn’t sleep.

Every time I closed my eyes I felt the door at my back again, the solid weight of Rex’s body pinning me in place, the slow drag of his thumb under my breast. The memory of his thigh pressed between my legs refused to leave. By the time the sky started turning gray, my sheets were twisted around my waist and the towel I usually kept under my pillow was clenched in my fist like evidence.

I shoved it into the bottom of my drawer and slammed it shut.

My phone sat face-down on the nightstand. I had ignored the message from Rex for hours, but the words still burned behind my eyes.

We’re not done talking about this.

I showered in water so hot it almost hurt, scrubbing my skin until it turned pink, as if I could wash the entire night off me. It didn’t work. When I looked in the mirror, my cheeks were still flushed and my eyes looked too wide, too guilty. I looked exactly like someone who had been caught doing something she shouldn’t.

By the time I reached the circuit the next morning, my stomach was in knots. I kept my camera bag high on my shoulder and my expression locked in place. If anyone looked at me, they would only see the same sharp, uninterested Aria Bennett who had spent years publicly rolling her eyes at Rex Callahan.

I lasted exactly eleven minutes before I saw him.

He was standing near the garage entrance, talking to one of the engineers, still in his black team shirt and dark jeans. The second his eyes found mine across the open space, that same slow, knowing half-smile curved his mouth. He said something to the engineer without looking away from me, then started walking in my direction.

I turned on my heel and headed for the media room.

I didn’t make it.

Rex caught up to me in the narrow hallway that connected the garage to the main building. His hand closed around my elbow—not hard, but firm enough that I had to stop. He steered me into the empty equipment closet like he had every right to, shutting the door behind us with a soft click.

The space was small. Too small. Shelves of spare parts and helmets lined the walls. The air smelled like rubber and metal and him.

“Morning, Bennett,” he said, voice low and almost pleasant. “Sleep well?”

I yanked my arm free. “What do you want?”

“Answers.” He leaned against the door, blocking the only exit, arms crossed over his chest. The same chest I had been pressed against last night. “You never answered my question.”

“I don’t owe you anything.”

“You owe me the truth.” His eyes moved over my face slowly. “How long?”

I looked at the wall behind his shoulder. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Rex laughed once, quiet and sharp. “You’re a terrible liar when you’re nervous. Your ears turn pink.”

I felt the heat crawl up my neck. “Go to hell.”

“Already been. It’s more fun than watching you pretend.” He pushed off the door and took one step closer. The space between us shrank. “Years, right? That’s what your silence said last night. You’ve been walking around calling me arrogant and reckless while keeping my shit under your pillow.”

My stomach dropped. “You don’t know that.”

“I know the look on your face when you were breathing in my jacket.” His voice dropped lower. “I’ve seen women look at me like they want something. I’ve never seen one look at me like she was starving and ashamed of it at the same time.”

I hated how accurately he read me. I hated that my body still reacted to the memory of his thigh between my legs. Most of all I hated that part of me wanted him to keep talking, just so I could stay in this charged, dangerous space a little longer.

“It doesn’t mean anything,” I said.

“Doesn’t it?”

“No.”

Rex tilted his head, studying me. “Then explain it. Explain why the girl who has spent every public moment acting like she can’t stand the sight of me was alone in a lounge hugging my jacket like it belonged to her.”

I opened my mouth, closed it, then tried again. “I was… it was a mistake. I shouldn’t have—”

“That’s not an explanation. That’s damage control.”

“What do you want me to say?” My voice came out sharper than I intended. “That I’ve been attracted to you for years even though you’re everything I claim to hate? That I’ve hated myself for it every single day? Is that what you need to hear?”

The words hung in the small space between us.

Rex went still.

For a second he looked almost surprised, like he hadn’t expected me to actually say it out loud. Then something darker settled behind his eyes.

“Yes,” he said quietly. “That’s exactly what I needed to hear.”

I felt exposed in a way that had nothing to do with clothes. My pulse was too loud in my ears. I wanted to take the words back, shove them down my throat, and pretend the last twenty-four hours had never happened.

Rex didn’t give me the chance.

“I’m not telling Ethan,” he said.

The relief was so strong my shoulders almost sagged. Then he kept talking.

“But that doesn’t mean this is over. You don’t get to drop a bomb like that and walk away clean.”

“What does that mean?”

He stepped closer. Close enough that I had to tip my head back to keep meeting his eyes. Close enough that I could see the faint shadow of stubble along his jaw and the way his pulse moved at the base of his throat.

“It means I know something about you that no one else does,” he said. “And I’m not above using it.”

“That’s blackmail.”

“Call it whatever you want.” His gaze dropped to my mouth for a second, then returned to my eyes. “All I know is that the next time you decide to call me arrogant in front of a room full of people, I’m going to remember exactly how you looked with my jacket against your face. And I’m going to wonder what else you’ve been hiding.”

My throat felt tight. “Stay away from me.”

“I don’t think I will.”

The quiet certainty in his voice made my stomach flip.

He reached past me, fingers brushing my waist as he opened the door. The contact was brief, deliberate, and gone before I could react. Cool air from the hallway spilled into the closet.

Rex paused in the doorway, looking back at me over his shoulder.

“One more thing,” he said.

I waited, heart still racing.

“Next time you feel the need to borrow something of mine…” His mouth curved. “Just ask. I might let you keep it.”

Then he walked away, leaving the door open and me standing alone among the shelves of racing equipment, pulse still hammering, the ghost of his fingers lingering on my waist.

I stayed there until my breathing evened out.

When I finally stepped into the hallway, my phone buzzed again.

Another message from Rex.

Dinner. Tonight. My place. We still have things to discuss.

I stared at the screen, thumb hovering over the keyboard.

Before I could decide whether to reply, a second message appeared.

Don’t make me come find you, Bennett.