Open Wheel

by Shey Stahl

  His strong, worn hands ran over my pebbled skin. “My wife…” he said softly, as he drew me into his arms.

  Every motion he made was slow, thought-out, gentle and romantic. You could tell he was trying, attempting to make this night I would never forget.

  “What are you doing?” I asked when I was starting to become impatient.

  “Making love to you…” he whispered against the curve of my neck.

  I wasn’t sure what to make of his body’s reactions right now.

  “Sorry,” he sighed, chuckling when he knew I sensed it.

  “Are you okay?”

  He nodded, trying to catch his breath. “Yeah…I’m fine.”

  When the shaking didn’t stop, I cradled his face in my hands. “What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know how to act around you now.” The hesitation, the anxiety seen just out of sight melted my heart.

  “Yes you do,” I assured him. “I’m your wife…”

  Drawing back, his mouth wandered the curve of my neck, my shoulders, breasts, lower, and then back to my lips where he mumbled the words, “You are…my wife…” again, as if he could say them now, and would. There was a sense of pride that I couldn’t ignore in the way he said it.

  The room filled with our love, bodies moving as one, breathy sighs and slow loving, nothing like before.

  Rager and I were wild in bed, our needs never met until rounds three or four sometimes, but this was different. This was about us loving one another in a slow love making way. Something we’d never done before. All the times I was with Easton, I never felt this, the need to have a man’s touch in a way that had I not, my body was being denied.

  Now I had that. When his hands weren’t on me, when I didn’t feel the heat from his body, I craved it in unimaginable ways.

  Nothing else existed. Only this. Only us.

  “Fuck, Arie…” he growled, his control slipping as he rocked into me with little rhythm, struggling to find one.

  Though I could see the man on the verge of losing control, a rushed movement here or there, he reined himself in quickly, his thrusts slowing and remembering that he was making love to his wife.

  With the way his pubic bone rocked against mine, it was easy for my need to be met, my legs tightening around his waist.

  At the onset of mine, Rager’s body started to convulse in jerking movements. His orgasm rocked through him, his weight collapsing against me, but mindful of my bump. He thrust forward once more as he groaned, filling me completely.

  When we were done, he didn’t move for the longest time, until he was squishing me and I pushed on his chest.

  Rolling to the side, he huffed out a breath and stared at the ceiling.

  “How long before you’re ready again?”

  He chuckled, deep and sexy, enough to spark a tingle in my belly. “You’re ready again?”

  I held up the lube beside the bed. “I kinda promised you something.”

  “Fuck yes!” His fists rose off the bed and above his head. “I’m ready.”

  “He doesn’t look ready,” I teased.

  Rager’s hand immediately went to his dick and started stroking it. “Oh, I’m about to be ready.”

  When he wasn’t having any luck, I had to tease him. “Hmmm, turning thirty did a number on you.”

  “Shut up.” Within a few more seconds, he was hard and ready to go.

  I, on the other hand, was so nervous I was the one shaking when he was kneeling before me, lube in hand.

  Rager noticed immediately. “We don’t have to.”

  “Okay. Good, I didn’t really want to.”

  His face fell. “Okay.”

  “I’m kidding.” Smacking his chest, I urged him forward. “Now hurry before I change my mind.”

  When he was in position, he started laughing. Lightly. “What?”

  His shoulders were shaking by that point, that adorable breathy laugh he had taking over.

  I raised an eyebrow ready to punch him. “Why the fuck are you laughing right now?”

  Rager kissed my shoulder, still smiling, and whispered, “I’ve never done this before.” Easing the head of him back and forth with his hand between us, my thighs tightened around him.

  “Are you kidding me?”

  “Nope.”

  “Why did you beg for it then?”

  He pulled back to look at me, his lips brushing over my breasts. The feeling of his mouth, lips and tongue on me eased my frustration. Not that I was upset, just surprised he never told me this. “I wanted to share something with you that neither of us had done before.”

  Well, when he put it that way.

  Raising my arms up around his neck, I turned my head, bringing his mouth to mine. Just before we kissed, I whispered, “You better get this over with. I’m getting nervous.”

  Just as he entered me, Rager held my face in his hands, thumbs moving back and forth across my skin, tenderly, lovingly, like he was trying to make the moment what it was, the two of us sharing something, together, for the first time.

  “Don’t be nervous.” He breathed, so tenderly, so sweet. “It’s just me.”

  He was absolutely right in a sense. It was only ever him.

  I had to say, it wasn’t the most comfortable thing in the world, but it wasn’t bad either. I wouldn’t say I wanted to do it again right away, but I wouldn’t say never.

  Later that night as we were in bed, our bodies wrapped around one another, I felt something wet touch my skin, only to feel Rager’s mouth on my hip, kissing me.

  “What are you doing?” I tried to roll on my back only to have him hold me in place.

  “Signing my name on my property.” It was then I felt the coolness of a marker.

  Staring down at him with amusement, I noticed he had a black Sharpie in hand and signed his name on my ass.

  “Did you just autograph my ass?”

  Looking up at me, he placed the cap back on the Sharpie with his mouth and then tossed it aside. “Yep. Had to mark my territory.”

  Of course he did. He wouldn’t have been Rager if he didn’t.

  Peering down at the signature, I laughed.

  As he crawled back up my body, my giggles overtook me when his face was aligned with mine. With my hands cupping his scruffy cheeks, I pressed a kiss to his lips. “You are such a boy.”

  He winked, lips moving with mine. “I’m your boy.”

  Boost - The amount of pressure generated by a turbocharger or supercharger as it forces the air/fuel mixture into a forced induction engine.

  NOT LONG AFTER Christmas, I found myself at the shop with Rager and the kids while he was going over schedules with Mom. I was down in the shop taking pictures of the cars to update the website with the new paint schemes and the championship trophy in front of Casten’s car.

  Yep, my little brother beat out his dad by one point to win the championship. To this day, months later, seeing Casten crying in victory lane was a memory that stung anyone’s eyes.

  Even more so, my brother and Dad doing the same.

  I wasn’t down there a few minutes when I heard the back door open. Turning around, I thought one of the boys was coming in. That was when I saw Easton.

  It was strange seeing Easton again after the divorce was final. I wasn't sure how I would feel or act toward him. What was normal?

  He looked good, a little leaner, more…manly. I guess he was twenty-seven now.

  Dressed in designer jeans and a black and gray button down plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up and those same aviator sunglasses he wore on the beach in Jacksonville and every other time I saw him. Maybe he hadn’t changed that much.

  He still had his beard, and I assumed it was because “she” preferred him that way.

  Even though Easton and I ended on a positive note, it didn’t take back all the wrong that had been done. We both knew that.

  “You look good,” he said when he saw me in the shop, a soft smile on his lips.

  I’m fat and preg
nant, dude. But thanks for lying.

  We hugged, briefly, and then he caught the ring on my finger and my swollen stomach. His eyes shifted around the shop and to Pace crawling around on the floor, wrench in one hand, lug nuts in the other. Hopefully, he didn’t eat any this time.

  “Are you pregnant again?”

  My stomach jumped at his words. I didn’t think it would be this hard seeing him and talking about a life that he wasn’t part of. But it was. It was strange.

  “Yeah.” My hand rested on my stomach. “Due in March.”

  “Wow,” he sighed, running his hand over his jaw, scrubbing it back and forth, still with his glasses on, “and he’s almost a year, right?”

  “Yep. The twins will be one on February fourth.”

  We don’t waste time.

  He nodded, his hands in his pockets, watching Pace, who walked over to us with little balance. He’d just started walking last week and hadn’t quite mastered it. Bristol had no desire to walk. She’d rather be carried everywhere. And with her big blue eyes and ringlet curls, she pretty much didn’t have to ask.

  “And you’re married?” His eyes shifted to my ring.

  Happily.

  “Yes.”

  He didn’t say anything. And then I started to wonder what he was thinking.

  With a sigh, he shrugged, his thoughts fading. “I’m happy for you.”

  Reaching down, I picked up Pace when he started whining and tugging at my leg. He looked over at Easton curiously and then smiled at him.

  Easton smiled back, finally removing his sunglasses. “He looks like Rager.”

  It was true. Pace started out looking like me, but as they got older, they resembled Rager more than anything with the black hair and shocking blue eyes.

  “I know.” I laughed, kissing Pace’s cheeks and then brushing his dark hair from his eyes. “They got nothing from me.”

  Easton glanced around the shop, sprint cars lining the walls, but the two of us were the only ones in the building. “Where’s the other one?”

  “She’s upstairs with Hayden and Bailey.” I gave a nod to the staircase to our left. “They’re going over schedules.”

  Again, he nodded, like he wanted to say more, but couldn’t. “Well, I’m running a little late. Just had to meet with Spencer this morning.”

  “Okay. Well, it’s good seeing you again.”

  Why did you just say that? Was it really?

  At my words, his eyes seemed pained, almost regretful. When he turned around to walk away, I guess I needed to know he was okay.

  “Easton?”

  He paused, mid-step and turned around, waiting.

  “Are you happy?”

  He seemed to think about it, memories flashing it his eyes. “I’m happy you’re happy.”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “I know.” He took a step toward me, his stare blank as if he was hiding an emotion he didn’t want me to see. “I’m happy for you. Am I little sad I wasn’t the reason for it? Yeah, I guess I am. But I’m…moving on. It’s not easy knowing you let the best thing in your life go over a lapse in judgment.”

  “Does she make you happy?” He knew who I was referring to when my voice shook around the words and I didn’t know why. I was happy and I held no regret for the life I had now. It really was where I was meant to be all along. Still, I wanted Easton to be happy.

  “I’m not with Genevieve now, but I am seeing someone.” He didn’t hesitate to answer, a smile gracing his lips at the thought of the girl in his life. “And yeah, she makes me happy.”

  I wanted to ask what went wrong, but then I knew, Genevieve wasn’t the type of girl who was anything more than a few nights. I think Easton knew that, too, now.

  “Then I’m happy for you.” Pace yanked my hair right then, jerking my head sideways and I laughed, his way of attempting to get my attention.

  He loved to pull hair like his daddy.

  Easton smiled at him, tenderly. “I really do need to be going.”

  “Okay. See ya.”

  “Bye bye,” Pace said, waving, his sweet little voice making me smile instantly.

  “Bye buddy.” Easton waved in turn.

  When he disappeared around the corner, I kissed Pace’s forehead, his honey scent making me breathe in deep. “Where’s daddy? He’s probably waiting for us.”

  Pace snuggled in, arms around my neck, and then pointed to the door. “Dada.”

  Following the direction he pointed, I noticed Rager standing against a wall, watching us with a smile.

  My heart thudded, contently staring as he pushed himself from the wall and made his way across the shop. He’d been watching us all along.

  When he made his way to us, Pace practically launched himself at him, arms spread out like Superman. Thankfully, Rager caught him and held him close, looking down at me.

  “Should I mark my territory? Hump your leg?” he teased, nodding toward Easton now talking with Spencer at the door.

  Wrapping my arm in his, I silently assured him he had nothing to worry about.

  “How is he?”

  I gave Easton one last look, and he gave us both a nod, his way of silently assuring me he was fine. And I finally felt like he was, because when he saw me with Rager, he didn't have that same look on his face, the one that always said, what does he have that I don’t?

  Now it was, I am glad that girl has someone who loves her the way she deserves.

  “He seems happy.”

  Rager nodded. “That’s good.”

  IN LATE MARCH, two weeks after Rager’s thirty-first birthday, I delivered our third, and, hopefully, last child.

  The labor and delivery was nothing compared to the twins. It was calm and just Rager and me.

  I couldn’t believe how much he resembled Pace and Bristol. Identical, but he had his own look about him and a set scowl as he stared at his father, and light hair, an auburn rust just like mine.

  Rager shook his head with amusement. “He’s ten minutes old and glaring at me.”

  “I think it’s cute!” I gleamed, gushing over my little baby boy. Right then I didn’t care if I had more. I forgot all about the pain of labor and focused on this, the feeling, the moment of serenity knowing Rager and I had created another little human being together.

  “What should we name him?” Rager looked at me, giving me the opportunity to tell him what we should put on the birth certificate.

  Pace and Bristol’s names came so naturally to me. Fit for them. This baby was a little different. “This one is up to you.”

  “I was thinking Knox…after Knoxville.” Rager smiled, knowing why that was. “And William for his middle name.”

  “After Williams Grove?”

  “Yep.”

  I smiled at my boys. “It’s perfect.”

  This was perfect. Everything was.

  “Can we come in?” Mom asked, peeking her head inside the door.

  Rager stood, removing himself from the chair to stand with Knox in his arms. Mom and Dad approached, smiling, gazing at Knox while Rager handed him over to Mom.

  “What’s this one’s name?” Dad asked, never lifting his eyes from my son. “Wow, he looks just like you did as a baby, Arie.”

  “Finally, one of them looks like me.” I gleamed, only to have Rager turn to look at me, smiling. It was true, Pace and Bristol were like little mini Rager’s now. Looked nothing like me. At least I had one kid like me.

  Taking Knox in her arms, cuddling him close, Mom came over to sit next to me as Dad patted Rager on the back. “Nice job, son. Is this where you raced hard for the line, rode out the rut?”

  Rager ignored the humor in Dad’s comment, his hands buried deep in his pockets as his head bent forward. Nodding to keep from speaking out shaky words, his body trembled slightly, and I knew the word “son” had gotten to him. My dad had never said that to him.

  “He’s beautiful,” Mom gushed, touching Knox’s cheek softly with her fingertips. “What did you
name him?”

  “Knox William,” I whispered, my head rested on my mother’s shoulder, sharing the moment with her.

  Dad snorted. “Clever.”

  “What’s wrong with his name?” I raised an eyebrow, waiting for my dad to say something stupid.

  “Nothing, I’m just glad it’s not another J name. Axel confused the hell out of me making all those kids rhyme.”

  “Yes, heaven forbid we confuse you,” I teased, only to have him glare at me. “How old is Casten again?”

  Dad thought for a minute, looked to Rager beside him for an answer, and then shrugged. “Twenty something.”

  Mom inhaled a deep breath, letting out a shuddered laugh. “He’s twenty-four, babe.”

  “Well, you know what they say…” And then he paused, mid-sentence and shrugged, as if he forgot what he was going to say.

  “No Jameson, we don’t.” Mom grinned, waiting on his reply. “Enlighten us.”

  Dad played it off well and pulled up a chair next to Mom. “He’s a cute baby for sure.”

  Laughing, I glanced over at Rager, who remained near the wall watching my family adore our baby boy, his smile present, his eyes tender and touched by the fact that he was now part of this family and we were making our own.

  I wondered then if he understood what he’d gotten himself into, but more than likely, it was where he wanted to be all along.

  Smiling, he winked and mouthed the words ‘I love you.’

  It was where he wanted to be.

  Cold Pits - There is no racing activity on the track and the pits are open to people other than team members and racing officials.

  ARIE AND I had fallen in love at a young age, completely unaware of the power that love held over the both of us or the damage we could do to that love, if we let it.

  Now it was easy to see, appreciate even, the way it drew us together time and time again. For that, I was thankful for the way it turned out and what it gave me: a beautiful wife and three wonderful children.

  Sometimes love hit you in an instant. I wouldn’t exactly say that the way I fell for Arie was instant love. It developed over time, like the cushion on a dirt track.

  That love, we had no idea how to process it or what it meant or how to control it, just like that cushion. The first time you bounced off it, your car was thrown around, catching ruts and out of control. But when you knew it was there, you could use it to your advantage, use it to gain speed.