Unless it involved Julia wearing a collar. Then he might be interested. Right now he was a lot restless. Too restless to care what had happened on the television that had everyone in the room muttering curses. Someone had taken a bad fall. Noah could calculate just how bad by the collective reaction in the room, and he didn’t want to look. Didn’t want to know. It gave him flashbacks of his own crash.
Julia came around the corner of the living room, her gaze on the screen. “What happened?”
“Braunhauf ate it—bad,” Jake told her.
Noah glanced at the screen, where a medical team wearing red-and-yellow jumpsuits stood out against the crisp white mountainside. His stomach squeezed like a fist. Sweat broke out on his upper lip. Then the replay of the fall began, and Noah looked away and tried to shake the memories of his own fall from his head.
Julia hissed through her teeth. “Torn ligaments in her ankle and her knee for sure. Probably a fractured tibia too. She’s out for the season, but she’ll be back next year.”
“You get that from a short clip?” Finn asked, shocked.
She shrugged like it was no big deal.
Noah pushed from the sofa and turned into the kitchen. He pulled the handle on the sink and splashed icy water on his face until the soft touch of Julia’s hand lay on his back. He hit the tap but stared into the sink.
“Flashback?” she asked softly.
“Little bit.” He straightened, hands clasped on the edge of the sink, water dripping off his chin. “But I was knocked off-balance before that. Something about a collar…”
“Oh.” A tentative smile turned her mouth. “So you like the idea?”
He grabbed her wrist and yanked it against his crotch. She gasped a soft “Oh.” Then registered the thick hard-on beneath her hand with widened eyes with an “Oh” of realization. Then began stroking him with a knowing “Oh.”
He pulled her hand away and stepped back. “Yeah, oh.”
That wicked little smile remained. “Just the thought of a collar does this, huh?”
“Just the mention of the word…” God, he couldn’t even say it.
“What part of the collar turns you on? The control? The look?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never done collars.”
Her brows shot up. “There’s something you haven’t done?”
Fucking tease. “You have?”
“No. It would take a very special man to get me into a collar. I wouldn’t let just anyone take control.”
His gut did that windmill thing again. “And I’m that man?”
“You tell me. What do you envision when you think of me in a collar?”
He glanced toward the living room, where the guys were chatting about the next race. “Can’t do this now.”
“Red?” she asked. “Black? Leather? Satin? Spikes? Studs?”
“Julia…” he warned.
“With lingerie? Lace teddy? Thigh-highs? Or naked? Nothing but skin? Skin, spiked heels, and a collar?”
He swore under his breath, one hand squeezing the sink so hard his fingers tingled from the lack of blood flow.
“On my knees? On all fours? Restrained on my back?”
Sweat reaccumulated across his brow. “Jesus Christ.”
She moved closer, lowered her voice to that husky whisper she knew turned him on. “If I had to guess, I’d say your preference would be…” She leaned even closer, her scent infiltrating his head and making him dizzy. “Red leather collar, studs, no spikes. Tight. Matching spiked heels. On my back, legs spread wide.”