Even though everyone pretty much knew Matt and I were together, we still didn’t shove it down people’s throats. It made me uncomfortable. Him uncomfortable… And honestly, everyone else, too.
Roger Epps, the big man in my division, came striding over, a large smile on his face. I wiped at the sweat on my forehead and straightened as he reached me.
“Congratulations, Jayson. That was some damn fine driving. You’ve earned your spot at MotoIntercontinental.”
I shook his hand, giving his entire arm a full, hard shake. “Thank you. I’ll definitely show them all what America has.”
Roger chuckled. “I have no doubt you will.”
I grinned, barely able to contain my glee but needing to remain professional.
“Paperwork and everything will be done by Monday. You can sit down with your team, review it all, and then travel arrangements, training, etc. will be arranged,” he added.
“Yes, sir.” I nodded, eager. Adrenaline still pumped through my veins. I was hungry to succeed, to push my career on a multinational level.
“Make us here in North America proud. Show the world just how serious we take our moto.” Epps encouraged.
I smiled, lightning fast. “Consider it done.”
Matt slapped me on the back, and I glanced at him and grinned.
“If you want to show the rest of the world what our country is made of, you picked the wrong racer.” A bitter, yet self-assured voice injected itself into our private conversation.
Private = it didn’t include him.
Blaine was my opponent in this race. He was the best of the best, but I had beat him. Was it wrong to basically pit two fellow drivers against the other for the high-stakes prize of worldwide glory?
Hell yes.
But that was what this sport was made of.
It would only be wrong if they didn’t give the top drivers in this division a final chance to battle it out.
Epps turned so he was angled toward me and Matt but also Blaine, who approached. He was dressed like me, in leathers and boots. His helmet and gloves were gone, and sweat beaded his hairline.
He was pissed off, sour. I could tell by the look in his eyes he wasn’t going to give up that easily. I couldn’t really blame the guy. This was a huge deal.
However, I wasn’t giving it up.
“You were given an audition,” Epps told him. “You’re a damn fine moto racer, but Jayson was a little better today.”
“Today.” He scoffed. “But what about all the other days?”
“I’m up for the challenge,” I replied, tossing him a look.
“I believe it.” Epps held out his hand one last time, and I shook it. “Bring us home a trophy.” On his way past, he offered Blaine a hand, and as they shook, he congratulated him on his kickass driving as well.
When he was gone, the crews were off doing whatever they had to do, and I was left standing there with Blaine.
“We both know I deserve this spot more than you,” he deadpanned. It was like he expected me to bow down and agree.
What-the-fuck-ever.
“Why’s that?” I scoffed. “Because you’ve been racing longer? Because you feel like you’re due? Or maybe because you know your days in the moto world are numbered and this might be your last shot at Intercontinental?” The words were harsh, but they were reality.
He was older than me, more experienced. It pissed him off that I was better. In his eyes, he should have had that half second because he was the more seasoned of us.
It didn’t work that way. Not on the track.
Pretty soon, his body wouldn’t be able to keep up with the demands of racing, not because he was so terribly old, because he wasn’t. However, in this world, you burned out fast.
I was younger, more able-bodied. Maybe that was why I was able to push it more today.
Or maybe I was just better.
Either way, it was no secret Blaine was on his way out. Guess he was feeling the burn.
“You self-righteous little prick,” he ground out. Blaine lunged at me, barreling into my body like a truck.
I stumbled but didn’t go down. Matt shouted and was at my back instantly.
His body steadied mine, and I stood back up, planting my feet into the pavement.
With a hard shove, I delivered Blaine back into his own personal space. “Cool down!” I insisted.
“That should be my name on that paperwork, my plane tickets being booked! I don’t know how you pulled it off today or what you did to your bike…” He eyed my Ducati suspiciously, as if he possessed X-ray vision that would somehow point out an obvious illegal alteration. “But that was a lucky win. A one-time success you just happened to achieve on the right day.”
It pissed me off. It pissed me off more than him openly telling everyone I wasn’t good enough. To suggest I had to resort to cheating to win? Or I just got lucky, that my hard work and dedication over the last few years had nothing to do with it?
Unacceptable.
“We both know I’m not a cheat,” I spat. “And as for luck… I’ll beat you anytime, anyplace.”
“Care to put that to the test?” He dared.
Matt made a sound. “You seriously want to race again? You must like losing.”
Blaine gave him a harsh stare. “Maybe your boy here is afraid I’m right.”
“Fine,” I spat. “You want a rematch? I’m down. Name your time, your place. Stack the odds against me. When I beat you anyway, you will shut the fuck up about me not deserving the spot I earned.”
Blaine shrugged. “Fine. And when I win, you’ll go to Epps and withdraw, tell him to give your spot to me.”
“Are you high?” Matt scoffed.
Blaine crossed his arms and stared at us, challenge glittering in his eyes.
I sighed. “Fine.” I held out my hand. “You got yourself a deal.”
“Tomorrow. Noon. Pinnacle Ridge.”
“You want to street race… on Pinnacle Ridge,” I deadpanned.
What the fuck. He was that pissed? Pinnacle Ridge wasn’t just a road. It wasn’t just a flat surface. It was a challenging maze of curves and twists over hilly terrain.
He nodded decisively. “If you can win there, you can win anywhere.”
I stuck out my hand again.
As we shook, he said, “A no-show is a forfeit, so don’t even think about playing sick.”
“I don’t play,” I responded, the urge to put this guy into his place once and for all strong.
It was the handshake that signaled the beginning of my end.
The fresh scent of pine clung to the sheets and lingered in my nose as daylight broke into my sleep-drunk mind. It wasn’t Christmastime; it wasn’t even winter. But to me, pine wasn’t regulated to just that time of year.
It was Matt’s signature.
The woodsy, earthy aroma embodied the guy I loved.
I inhaled deep before I even opened my eyes. My fingers came up empty when they reached for him, so they fisted in his pillow and pulled it against my face.
My body felt languid, lazy, and in no hurry to remove itself from the warm, delicious confines of this bed. His scent lingered all around me, and the touch of his hands and lips from last night still echoed in my body.
Even though I’d been beyond hyped after the race yesterday, and then after the challenge from Blaine, the second we walked into our place, those things took a backseat.
We ordered Thai food, ate on the couch, and made out like we used to when we first started dating. Matt was my perspective in life, the brake to the drive inside me. He didn’t slow me down; he balanced me out. He helped me appreciate there was more to life than just motorcycles.
He also taught me about love, about generosity, and that sometimes even in the face of defiance, love really could win.
We’d only lived together about six months, but I already couldn’t remember what it was like to be alone.
Sure, we dated a lot longer than six months. The first year no
one knew about us at all. But then we came out, not as a couple, but one at a time when each of us was ready.
Eventually, people would pair us naturally. I’d get asked if maybe I was into him. I told myself it wasn’t because people saw a shit ton of chemistry between us. It was just because when you were gay, it wasn’t always easy to meet someone.
But still, the chemistry between us was pretty fiery. We just kept it private, sort of like a secret only the pair of us knew.
The sound of water falling interrupted my thoughts, and I glanced out the window, thinking first about rain. Rain wasn’t a stranger here in the Seattle climate, but today, I couldn’t have the rain. I wanted this challenge over and done with. I had better things to do.
Rain wasn’t falling; there were no wet streaks on the window. It was the shower. I stretched and thought about going to join Matt beneath the spray. Just as I was about to move, it shut off and I heard the shower door open and close.
I rolled so I had the best view of the bathroom door, so when he opened it, I would be greeted with his sexy body.
Matt appeared, rubbing a towel over his head, completely naked.
My skin heated just looking at him, and I made sure my eyes ate their fill.
“Like something you see?” Matt asked, tossing the towel on the floor and climbing onto the bed. I rolled so he could come over me.
Water droplets from his hair fell on my forehead as he gazed down.
“I like everything I see,” I replied, staring into his eyes.
His teeth caught my lower lip and tugged. As he sucked, I reached around behind him to cup his ass.
My morning wood was like a spear between us, and he rocked against it as I squeezed his ass and made out with his lips.
He pulled back when I started to pant, then dove beneath the blankets and finished me off. I admit it didn’t take very long because all his humping had brought me to the edge.
After he swallowed me down, Matt slid up my body once more, and his tongue delved between my lips. I tasted myself on him, and I smiled.
“Your turn,” I murmured against his mouth.
He made a sound. “I’m gonna have to wait. We have a race to get to.”
I groaned and seriously considered blowing it off, and my fingertips caressed the base of his spine. He smiled like he knew exactly what I was contemplating and pressed his forehead to mine.
“I’ll make you some French toast.” He bribed.
He made stellar French toast. Actually, everything he made was bomb, which was a definite bonus, because the extent of my kitchen know-how was how to open a beer.
I raked a hand through his soft brown hair and smiled. “I could eat.”
He laughed. “What else is new?”
“Nothing, because I still love you,” I replied.
The side of his mouth turned up. “I still love you, too.”
Matt sat up, his long, lean torso towering above me as his legs straddled my hips. The pad of his finger met my chest, and he traced a symbol over my skin.
“For always,” I vowed.
He nodded. “Infinity.”
We stared at each other a moment longer, but then he was slipping into a pair of boxers and running a hand through his still damp hair. “Meet you in the kitchen?”
“Clothing optional?” I yelled after him.
His chuckle floated in from the hall. “Sure, but if you actually want to make it out of the house this morning, I would suggest pants.”
Pants were totally overrated. Even so, after I tossed the blankets back, I picked up a pair of shorts and tugged them on.
Staying in all day had a definite appeal. But that would have to wait until tomorrow. Today was my race with Blaine. Our final showdown.
Hopefully after I smoked him this last time, he’d move on with himself and leave me the fuck alone.
Show up early.
Be energetic with your competitive nature, especially if you’re the one who was challenged. Sometimes winning started with the mind.
The mind was a very powerful thing, and if channeled properly, it could be an even more powerful weapon.
I was scheduled to race at noon, so we planned to be the first at Pinnacle Ridge. I planned to be dressed in my leathers, helmet on, and ass on the bike when Blaine pulled up.
It would throw him off. It would give him even a nanosecond of doubt that he wasn’t as sure to win as he expected. Why?
Because losers didn’t show up early. They didn’t sit at the start line, waiting for their humiliation.
Blaine issued the challenge, but I was the one who would rule it.
We pulled up an hour early, the road kicking up a cloud of dust when Matt pressed the breaks and parked on the side.
Pinnacle Ridge was paved, but it was done so long ago some of the gravel was loose from road repairs that were less than professional. The landscaping at the road’s edges was unkempt, mostly because this ridge, while known by all the locals, wasn’t used excessively. It wasn’t a main road or even a shortcut to anywhere in town.
Mostly used by people who lived up the hill in the Peaks (which, by the way, had views that would give a man a hard-on). Or by the postal workers and other locals.
And of course, this was a hot spot for racing. Even though it was forbidden.
This wasn’t exactly a safe road to race on. The blind spots, the hills and sharp curves… there was even a drop-off on one side that plummeted down to where the road wound below.
Large pine trees, maple, and other mature landscape grew in tune with the road, almost like it shielded it from too much commercialism.
It was actually a pretty cool place. People had been known to walk it as well, and I knew from experience there were a lot of four-wheeler trails that branched off away from the road and into the woods that separated this ridge from the nearby neighborhood.
It was a tepid morning, nothing unexpected for the outskirts of Seattle. It didn’t really get hot here, even in the summer. It rained a lot, but today was clear and bright. Almost like the motogods in the sky blessed this clash of racers.
Matt cut the engine, and his palm curved around the back of my neck. My head swiveled in his direction, and we locked eyes. His eyes were deep and dark. Some people called them secret eyes because they seemed so dark they had to be hiding something.
I knew better, but I could see the reasoning behind the term.
The thick pads of his fingers rubbed over the back of my neck and base of my skull. He liked the way my buzzed hair tickled his rough hands. Once, he told me it was like a light massage for his senses.
Gooseflesh broke out over my scalp, and I closed my eyes.
“You’re going to own this,” he said, not speaking loud. He didn’t have to shout. We were in our own little universe inside the car.
“Once I do, we can check international travel off our bucket list,” I mused.
I was hyped for MotoIntercontinental, but I was also looking forward to traveling the world with Matt. A lot of the countries we would be visiting were a lot more relaxed about men in relationships. I didn’t know if it would make it easier to hold hands with him on the street or let my hand rest on his thigh in plain sight at a restaurant or even go in for his lips at a café, but I sure as hell wanted to find out.
“I’m proud of you,” he told me.
My chest swelled. Praise from him was like getting it from the highest order. “Couldn’t have gotten this far without you.”
He scoffed.
I grabbed his jaw and forced his head around. “Seriously, Matt. You are just as good a racer as me, but you’ve put so much into my career, I think it maybe hampered your own.”
His hand wrapped around my wrist, giving it a gentle squeeze, and I dislodged my hold. He kissed the inside of my palm, the scruff on his jaw an added layer of sensation.
“My career is where I want it to be. I’m happy, and I win enough. Besides, if we were both racing gods, how the hell would we ever see each other?”
He was pretty incredible. He made a choice, one I honestly wasn’t sure I could have made. When it came down to it, between our relationship and our careers, he decided for us to have both, a sacrifice had to be made.
And he made it.
For me.
For us.
“I love you,” I told him.
He smirked. “I know. You screamed it last night when I was sucking your dick.”
I made a sound of appreciation. That was good fucking blowjob.
But not quite as good as feeling him fill me with his length, which he did right after I exploded.
With our hands linked, he leaned over the stick shift and connected our mouths. The kiss was leisurely, slow, and full contact.
Matt’s tongue was wide and thick. He knew how to wield it so my mouth was completely owned. My full lips rubbed over his, refusing to separate even as my lungs lurched for oxygen.
It was him who broke away first, slowly, languidly, but enough so I could breathe once more.
“I love you, too,” he whispered, pressing one last kiss against my lips before pulling away completely.
“You know what?” I said, grabbing his forearm as he turned to get out of the driver’s seat.
He glanced back around, an expectant look on his features.
“I think we should use this tour at Intercontinental to learn inside secrets, tips, and tricks,”
He tilted his head as if to say, What for?
“That way when the North American circuit starts back up next season, you’ll have a ton of advantage to get there yourself.”
His eyes lit up deep in their depths. I smiled, satisfied. That was the look I wanted to see. It proved that even though he wanted us, he wanted to race just as much as me.
I didn’t want to be the only one fulfilling that dream. Sure, Matt was an awesome racer. He had good sponsorship deals, trophies, and a high placement in the division. But he was held back by us. By me.
This season had been mine, and now Intercontinental would be, too.
Next year? That was going to be for Matt.
“I like it,” he mused.
“I know.” I wagged my eyebrows, and he laughed.
#Blur (The GearShark Series Book 4) Page 8