Chapter 15: Chocolate & Command
The motorhome kitchen was a tomb of discarded energy drink cans and the ghost of burnt coffee. The strategy session had bled into the early hours, the digital trackside maps finally dark, the engineers shuffled off to their hotels. Sergio remained, a lone figure in the dim light, leaning over the stainless steel island. He was tracing a line on a printed sector map with a finger that was smudged with something dark.
Alma slid the door shut behind her, the click echoing in the quiet. She’d come back for her tablet, left charging by the sink. The files in her hands were just an excuse.
Alma had translated the Italian sponsors' congratulations with mechanical grace, her voice steady even as her throat ached from hours of talking. The adrenaline of the race had long since bled into exhaustion. Now, deep in the belly of the team motorhome, the fluorescent lights hummed over scattered data sheets and half-empty coffee cups.
She leaned against the counter, rolling the stiffness from her neck. The kitchen was empty except for the occasional mechanic drifting in for caffeine. The race was over, but the work wasn’t.
The door slid open. She didn’t need to look up to know it was him.
Sergio’s presence was a shift in the air—warmer, heavier. He moved past her to the fridge, his shoulder brushing hers in the tight space. The contact was fleeting, intentional. He pulled out a chilled bottle of water, cracked the seal, and drank deeply.
She watched the line of his throat work. The honey from last night still ghosted on her tongue.
He exhaled sharply, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "You should sleep."
"So should you."
A beat. His eyes flicked to hers, dark and assessing. "Not yet."
He reached past her again, this time for the bowl of chocolate-covered almonds left out for the crew. He plucked one, held it between his fingers. She could smell the rich cocoa, the faint nuttiness beneath.
She didn’t move.
He rolled the chocolate between his fingers, watching the coating soften. "You didn’t eat today."
She hadn’t. The race-day rhythm left little room for meals—just stolen bites between translations, updates, damage control.
"You’re keeping tabs?"
"Always."
A ghost of a smile curled the corner of her mouth before she could stop it.
And then—
He lifted his thumb, coated in melted chocolate, and pressed it to her bottom lip.
Her breath hitched.
"Lick," he murmured.
The command was soft, almost casual, but his eyes burned.
She could taste it before her tongue even touched him—the bittersweet dark chocolate, the salt of his skin beneath. She closed her lips around his thumb, slow, deliberate, cleaning the sweetness with kittenish strokes.
His chest rose sharply. His free hand gripped the counter beside her hip, fingers flexing against the laminate.
She took her time. His thumb was warm, the pad slightly rough against her tongue. She traced it with the tip, teasing, then sucked gently.
A rough sound escaped him.
She released his thumb with a soft, wet sound. His fingers lingered near her mouth, trembling slightly now.
He didn’t pull away.
Instead, he pressed two fingers against her lips. Testing.
Her lashes fluttered, but she didn’t resist. She parted for him, letting him slide deeper. The chocolate was nearly gone now—just the faintest trace of sweetness mixed with the heat of her mouth.
He exhaled a broken breath. His fingers curled slightly, stretching her wider, brushing the flat of her tongue.
A drop of melted chocolate escaped, trailing down her chin.
He caught it with his thumb, swiping it back into her mouth. His knuckles pressed into her lower lip, and she felt the shudder that went through him.
The sound of approaching footsteps in the hallway barely registered.
But Sergio did.
He withdrew his fingers slowly, his breath ragged. The pad of his thumb dragged one last time over her bottom lip, smearing the shine left behind.
His voice was rough. "Later."
The motorhome door swung open. Max’s voice carried in, loud and laughing.
Sergio didn’t step back. Not completely. His body still caged hers, heat radiating between them even as the room filled with voices.
Alma didn’t look away.
Later.
The promise hung between them like a live wire.