Rocky Road Page 10

  "Lovely to meet you, Ed." Krysta held out her hand. Sitting straight in her chair and wearing a professional blouse and skirt, she looked the part, and I regarded her for the first time since she arrived. She had obviously invested lots of time in preparing. And only she could sport those fingerless gloves and air casts and make them look sophisticated.

  Ed frowned. "I wasn't aware you had a social media manager."

  I snapped back to the conversation, bringing my eyes back to Ed only to find him staring at me. "Just hired her. We're on our way to do an introductory interview to get started right now. You'll be happy to know she has a plan to get me more sponsors."

  "Can't wait to hear about it." He glanced at his watch. "Unfortunately, it must wait. I'm late for a meeting."

  I barely breathed as he waved goodbye. That was close. Wait a second. Why did I care if he knew how I felt about Krysta? What did I feel about Krysta? Clearly something, if I was so flustered.

  "What was that about?" Krysta asked, after we had gone about a block.

  "Nothing." As I pushed her, her scent clogged my nose. If only I could bury my face in her hair and smell all night long.

  "Nothing, my ass. Why are you running?"

  I slowed. "Sorry. Am I hurting you?"

  "No. And don't change the subject."

  My week in training had left me feeling fragile, uncertain on just about every topic. As if racing was the only thing that could fill my mind. Now, with Krysta knocking on the door to my mind, I had to make room. "I think I'm overheating. Let's go in here."

  I turned into the doorway of the divey Irish pub right next to us. Somehow, I managed to bump both of Krysta's feet on the doorway. Once the host saw me struggling, he scrambled to help along with a waiter he enlisted. It took all three of us to get Krysta over the tiny door jamb and through the narrow hall to a table.

  I'd never noticed how difficult the world was to navigate from a chair. Yet still, when I sat down across from her, Krysta beamed. Her smile radiated to her eyes as if none of this was happening except for the two of us sitting here together.

  "How was your week?" she asked.

  "Long." I sighed.

  "I'm sorry about that."

  My eyes dropped down her blouse. It was hard not to look. She wore a sleeveless polka dot shirt with a square neckline. The silver necklace she'd worn the first day we met dropped between her breasts, caressing her where I would like to put my mouth—

  I dug my fingernails into my thigh. This couldn't happen. Where was this coming from? It had been different when we were at her home. It wasn't so laced with… my God I was practically drooling at the sight of her smooth skin. Of her generous lips. Of the thought of her hair as it trailed across my stomach, as she moved between my legs.

  "Billie?"

  "Do you want something to drink? I'm dying of thirst. Where's the waiter?"

  Krysta twisted around to look behind her. "I don't know." She twisted back. "Are you all right? You got weird there for a second."

  "Tell me about your plan for my social media accounts." I folded my hands in an attempt to bring us back to the professional sphere and away from all thoughts of her body. This was safer. "You've had some time to think about it, I'm guessing."

  "Yeah, I…"

  The waiter appeared and poured us water. Then he took our orders. Krysta ordered a burger and sweet potato fries. I opted for a chicken salad with balsamic and vinegar dressing. It was all very normal until I handed my menu to the waiter and let my gaze return to her.

  Krysta was staring at me. My eyes dropped down the silver of her necklace once again and I swear I blushed, though this was not normal. I could feel the heat on my cheeks and pushed down the urge to beg a fever and run out of there.

  I had to retain my professional demeanor. It was the only way I knew how to do this. When it came down to it, racing was a job like any other for me. It gave me the money to help my parents with the farm, to pay for insurance, to eat, etc. I couldn't be distracted like this, not to the point where all I could think about was her. Not now. "You were about to tell me your plan?"

  "I was thinking I could follow you around when it's convenient. I could take pictures of you driving, do live video clips of your preparations, stuff like that."

  I frowned. Based on my reaction to her, I wasn't sure I could tolerate her around so much. Between the way my eyes couldn't get enough of her and my mind kept obsessing about her, I would never get any work done. Why had I thought this was a good idea?

  Krysta's eyes sparkled in the dim lights. "If you don't want me there, that's fine. I know all this can be a bit much."

  What was I thinking? If this was anyone else, I would say, of course. I needed to treat her like I would a random professional. "That sounds good. You can come to my practice runs tomorrow at the raceway."

  "I'd love to."

  Krysta moved her water glass so it was straight in front of her. She leaned over so her breasts were right above the glass, and, for a moment, I forgot all about professionalism. Her fingers ran down the perspiration of the glass. Up and down, stroking the moisture, rubbing it over the glass.

  Before a race, I imagined every moment, feeling the vibrations of the car, the forces bearing on me at every turn, the wind whipping past me, the car responding to my slightest movement. I had sharpened my imagination with this practice over the years. Now, this sharpness messed with me as my mind flashed to her fingers rubbing me in the same way.

  Fuck. Fuck.

  "I have to go to the bathroom." I stood, unable to bring my eyes to Krysta, and practically sprinted to the bathroom nearby. Once there, I ran the cold tap water and splashed it on my face. I had to get it together, and soon. I couldn't be feeling this way during practice tomorrow. I couldn't be feeling this at the race. Even as I thought this, I imagined Krysta's body arched over mine.

  I would just have to set boundaries. I nodded at my reflection in the mirror. "You can do this. You've done much more difficult things in your life. You've got this."

  When I returned to the dining area, I felt better. Our food arrived moments later. As I ate, I realized that whatever had just happened had come from hunger. I began to grow calmer as Krysta and I settled in to an innocent conversation about our families and our lives prior to meeting one another. Krysta took her time eating. No—scratch that. She was the slowest eater I had ever met, though I hadn't seen this from her before. By the time I was done, she had only eaten half of her burger and barely touched her fries.

  "Want one?" she asked.

  "Yeah, actually. One can't hurt."

  I reached over, but before I got too far, Krysta grabbed a fry and shoved it toward my mouth. "Open up."

  I didn't have time to protest, though this seemed like an incredibly intimate gesture. Her fingers brushed my lips as she let go of the fry. Its sweetness turned to dust inside my mouth. When I swallowed, it was only a lump of dried crumbs. "Krysta, I… think…"

  "We should do it," she said quickly.

  I coughed. "Do what?"

  Krysta leaned forward, her breasts practically touching her food in a way that made my mouth water. "Have sex."

  "You're… okay? To do that?"

  "Fine and dandy. In perfect shape for the shape I'm in."

  "And…"

  "Stop trying to find excuses. I can see you want me."

  She'd been playing with me this whole time, and by the twitch of her lip I could see she was enjoying it. She was right, too. I did want her. All these pillars seemed to stand between us, but what if I had just imagined the pillars? What if I could imagine them away? Maybe I'd been looking at this all wrong.

  I'd told myself I couldn't sleep with her because it would be distracting. What if it was more distracting not to sleep with her? The only other option was to hold out and see what happened. Based on my current state that didn't seem like a smart option.

  I let myself imagine us together again. Taking her head in mine and holding her as tightly as I could
, trying to get as close to her as possible.

  "Well?" she asked. "Are you scared?"

  "I'm not scared of anything." Saying it made it more true.

  "Of course not. You're a fucking IndyCar driver."

  "That's right." I barked out a laugh and met Krysta's gaze. She was serious. Moisture slickened my center so much that when I moved I could feel it. Flashes of Krysta played freely, loudly, in my mind. I pulled out my wallet and threw down a wad of cash on the table. "Let's go back to the hotel."

  And Krysta Ekert wins this round.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  KRYSTA

  Billie pulled out her wallet and the key from her pocket, her free hand dropping by her side. I'd wanted to touch her since we'd left, but it had been pretty impossible the way Billie was pushing me back to the hotel. Now, with her next to me, I did what I would have done if I hadn't been in a wheelchair. I picked up her hand and touched the inside of her wrist with my lips, right on the blooming rose of her tattoo.

  Billie sucked in a breath. The door beeped. She didn't move.

  I brought her fingertips to my lips and kissed each one. I pulled her middle finger into my mouth and sucked on it, my eyes glued to every twitch of her face.

  Billie leaned against the door. Even fully clothed, her body amazed me.

  I released her finger and pulled on her arm so she would lean closer. She yielded, her eyes shut, her short breaths making the wisps of hair around her face flutter. I pushed her hair behind her ears, but it fell over her again like a silk curtain.

  "I hate it," she whispered.

  "Then why don't you cut it?" I whispered back.

  "Ed wanted it long."

  "Fuck Ed."

  Our lips met, and at a moan from Billie, I let myself go. My hand flew to her waist, pushing down past the waistband of her jeans for a full palm of skin. The elevator dinged. Billie pulled away first. She turned, panting, pushed her key into the door and hip-checked it open. I rolled in after her, practically mowing her down.

  The door snicked shut behind us and before I could reach for her again, she leaned down and scooped me from my chair. I clung to her through the throbbing pressure of my feet in my air casts. She set me down on the bed gently. I held her to me, kissing her fiercely, trying desperately to wipe out the pain. Using all my strength, I spread my legs. Billie settled between them, but on her way, clipped my foot.

  The pain radiated through my body. In a reaction I couldn't control if you had a gun to my head, my whole being clenched.

  "I'm so sorry, I'm sorry," Billie's voice said through the buzz in my ears. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

  "It's fine," I said, forcing my jaw to unhinge.

  "Do you want me to get Tanya?" Billie asked.

  I felt the bed bounce with her movements. "No… please, just… wait a minute, okay?"

  I don't know how long I spent tensed, but when it started to subside, I opened my eyes to see Billie standing by the side of the bed with her arms crossed.

  "I shouldn't have pushed you like that. I got carried away," she said.

  "It's fine." It was more important now than ever that I smile at her, that I try to convey to her I meant what I said. "That happens at least twice a day. It's just par for the course these days."

  "I hate to see you like that." She couldn't look at me.

  The problem was, now that the pain had subsided, I still wanted her. I was well enough to want her. I stretched out my hand, patting the bed next to me. "Come here."

  She perched on the edge of the bed, facing away from me. "Maybe we should wait on this."

  "I don't want to wait."

  "What if I hurt you again?"

  "You won't. That's what the casts are for."

  "I don't want to take the chance."

  "Says the woman whose job it is to take chances."

  Billie twisted around, meeting my gaze. "Remember how I told you at dinner that I wasn't scared of anything? That's not true. I'm scared of…"

  "What?"

  Billie gestured toward me. "This. People. Relationships. I've screwed up so many by moving too quickly. Whenever I thought I knew what was going on in someone else's mind I always had it wrong."

  A joke came to mind about moving too quickly, but that's not what she needed. "I get it. That scares me, too. But, right now, I'm telling you what I'm thinking. I want you right now. We don't have to make any plans for the future. Please, lie down with me, at least."

  Billie stretched herself out beside me, careful, I noticed, not to touch any part of my skin. I twisted toward her and regarded her profile. Her chin echoed the upturn of her nose. I'd never noticed that before. I'd also never noticed the thin smattering of freckles over her cheeks. Oh, God, it would be impossible to lie here and not try to find my way into her pants.

  I reached out and snuck my fingers under the hem of her shirt, running them over her belly, up toward her breast. She caught my hand and held it at her sternum. Not even this? Why not? She wasn't even close to my legs.

  The doubt struggled for dominance again. I refused to let it win. I swallowed it down. "Is there another reason you don't want to do this?"

  Billie's throat bobbed with a swallow. She turned toward me, her eyes tracing the space between mine. "Hitting your casts like that made me think about that night. About how if we hadn't met, you would never have been hit by a car."

  "You don't know that," I said, my voice a whisper. "You can't take that on."

  "Why not?"

  "Well, first, because I followed you, remember?"

  Billie sniffed, though no tears spilled from her eyes. "I remember. God, Krysta, you were so fucking hot. Irresistible."

  Were. I had been hot before the broken ankles. Before the huge scar marring my forehead. Before I became a burden to everyone around me. I pulled away from her and stared at the ceiling. "Why am I here?" I asked out loud.

  "Because I hired you."

  "No," I shook my head. This was so hard, but I had to ask. It was part of finding myself again, finding my courage. "Why am I in your bed if you find me repulsive?"

  Billie sat up, her face hovering over mine. "I do not find you repulsive."

  "Yet you don't want to have sex with me."

  "I don't want to hurt you."

  "Well this is hurting more than if you used my feet as a soccer ball." I tried to turn away from her, but could only manage a half-twist. The last time we'd been in bed in this way, I'd had complete control. Now, I controlled nothing. I couldn't even control when I got up and left. God, this was torture.

  Then she placed a kiss on my neck. "Tell me what to do," she whispered, her breath tickling my ears.

  It sent a chill down my spine. "Can you help me back into my chair?"

  "No," she whispered, pressing gently on my shoulder. "I don't want to do that."

  "You don't want to have sex, you don't want to put me back in the chair, what do you want, Billie? What the fuck—"

  She stopped me with her lips—the only way she could have stopped me at that time. I stiffened. She kissed me with ferocity until I melted into her. My body responded, angling toward her. Her kiss was like a fire. All my doubts were gobbled up in it, replaced by burning need. I didn't only want her mouth, I wanted all of her. My hands moved over her back, drawing a diagram of muscles in my mind. I pulled her tank top over her head.

  "Tell me what to do," she said again. "How can we do this?"

  I picked up the pillows on her side of the bed. "Prop my feet up with these."

  She did as I told her, lifting my legs gently as she would an injured animal, and setting them down on the pillows. The pressure started to ease almost instantly.

  "Come here," I said.

  She carefully lifted her legs over mine and settled between them. Her breasts, braless, pressed against my thighs as she slithered up my legs, up my skirt, looking at me like a crouching tiger. I was happy then I hadn't worn any underwear. Happy, too for the loose skirt. Just happy, as if her kiss had
erased everything. I dragged her face up to meet mine and we locked in another tangle of lips.

  She pulled away, her face inches from me, her hair falling around me, creating our own little cave. "Tell me what to do."

  "Touch me," I whispered.

  Without missing a beat, her hand trailed along my thighs, coming tantalizingly close to my center, but not touching me. I had spent the afternoon lusting over her, so to say I was prepared was an understatement. My body was ready for her, healed enough to enjoy, yearning for someone to touch me in a way that wasn't therapeutic. The moment her fingers left my thighs and trailed between my legs, I let out a cry.

  "Holy shiiiit," I said under my breath.

  "What's next? Tell me what you want me to do."

  "Just," I said, on a breath as she ran her fingers through me again. "Please."

  "What?" Billie smiled mischievously.

  "You," I said, half sitting up. "You're teasing me."

  "You like it."

  She was right. I liked it. I held her gaze with mine as she pushed through my folds, and it was the most intimate moment I'd had in my life. Forget all the rest, this was it. My mouth opened, but nothing came out.

  "What's next?" Billie tilted her head. "What do you want me to do next?"

  Her thumb edged close to my clitoris, sending bolts of pleasure through my body.

  "Please, Billie."

  "Tell me what you want. You're not afraid, are you, Krysta?"

  "Take me into your mouth," I said quickly, as Billie's thumb swooped nearer.

  Billie leaned forward, keeping her eyes on mine. They only dropped once her lips touched me. It only took a few seconds before…

  White blindness. Purity. Nothing but pleasure rocked through me. Waves and waves of it, like my body was so tired of holding back behind a dam of willpower that it just burst forth.

  She didn't stop, though it was torture at this point. My feet hurt, my body was racked, but I didn't want her to stop. I came again. And when I regained consciousness, Billie snaked up the length of my body. "I wanted to do that since the first time I met you."