“You don’t want to make love with me because you’re afraid it might be so wonderful, you couldn’t leave.”
“No.” Yes.
When he touched her mouth with his, she didn’t back off. “Who said that if I kissed you, we’d have to make love?”
“Well, we are in bed. It always seems that men can’t kiss or hold a woman without expecting more. To men, kissing means sex—”
He was kissing her then, and more than kissing, teasing her lips with his tongue. Her heart tightened, wanting to resist, unable to. Her mouth opened at his invitation, against her will. Without hesitation, his warm tongue moved along her teeth, tickling the roof of her mouth, all in an agonizingly slow, lazy way.
After ravishing her mouth, he kissed across her chin and down her throat. She was caught breathless, drowning again… not thinking about the consequences for once.
“What if,” he murmured against her skin, “I didn’t expect to make love to you, but I wanted to pleasure you in other ways?”
His hand drifted down across her belly to beneath the blankets. He slid his fingers over her underwear, making her legs tense in reaction. Even tensed, they moved easily apart for him.
“Jesse…” she managed until his hand cupped her pubic area.
“Relax, doll. Go with it.”
He rubbed back and forth, creating a warmth that spread through her whole body. Damn, it felt good, heat spreading through her body. She didn’t relax, exactly. No, she moved into his hand, her pelvis sliding against him. He kneaded her, his fingers reaching all the way down to her opening.
She let out a soft murmur which he took as consent to run his finger under the edge of her panties. She gave him more consent, shifting so his fingers touched more of her. He moved over her folds, sliding through her wetness, then dipping his finger into the well of it and bringing that slick essence to her sensitive nub.
Her body ached with readiness. It had been so long, too long, and all those times she’d seen Jesse in his briefs or hell, even with clothes on, God, she’d been tempted.
She trembled, toes flexed, fingers curled into the sheets. The orgasm claimed her, and she arched her back, her breaths coming hard and fast, a sound like agonized relief coming from deep in her chest.
Finally, finally …
Jesse settled his hand on her belly afterward, his face close to hers. “Glad you gave in?”
“Yes.” No. Now she wanted him more than ever. If he even suggested making love now, she would jump him. Drowning. She was on the edge of drowning in him already.
But he didn’t. Instead, he pulled her into his arms, forming himself to her back and holding her close. He was rigid, pressing into her, but not insistently.
“Jesse, have you…made love to anyone since I got here?”
He shook his head, which made his hair brush her neck. “Doesn’t seem right to go with some other woman when I’m married. This is a small town. You scratch an itch and everyone knows about it. Besides, I haven’t really wanted to be with anyone.” But you. Did she “hear” those unspoken words or was it her imagination?
She turned her head. “You haven’t scratched your itch?”
“Well, there is more than one way to skin a cat.” He shrugged. “What worked when I was thirteen still works in my twenties.”
He’d stayed faithful, for her. So people wouldn’t talk about Marti’s husband straying. She moved her hips, pressing her butt against his erection. His fingers tightened on her hips.
“Marti, are you trying to drive me crazy?”
She turned her face so their cheeks brushed. “Relax. Go with it. There’s another way to skin a cat.”
He let out a low groan as she gyrated against him, pulling her even closer, moving with her. She could feel all of him pressed up against her back, but mostly she felt that tempting erection. And minutes later, she felt his body jerk, his hands tighten, and his breath catch. He flopped onto his back, breathing heavily, and threw off the sheet.
She could see him in the dim light, wearing nothing but his shorts, his hand on his stomach. She wanted to touch him, to run her hands across his chest, link her fingers with his.
“Thank you,” she whispered, holding back the rest of what she wanted to do. “For kind of forcing me. It was wonderful.”
“My pleasure. Thank you.” After a moment, he brushed his fingers over her stomach. “Do you think the baby felt it when you came?”
She giggled. “I’m sure he did. I just hope he didn’t know what it was.”
Marti and Jesse drove into the speedway mid-afternoon, the truck straining under the weight of pulling number thirteen. If anything had changed between them as a result of last night, she couldn’t tell. Except that they regarded each other with a measure of shyness that didn’t exist before.
Billy was there, talking to one of the other racers. They parked in the pit area in the middle of the track, a large circular area covered in dirt and tire tracks. There were several other trailers loaded with racecars of every type, including Chevys, Buicks, and even tiny little cars that hardly seemed big enough to accommodate a grown man.
“Those are the midgets,” Jesse explained when she asked. “They’re the special feature tonight.”
“What is your kind of car called?”
“I’m in the late models.”
Jesse hopped out of the truck, then held his hand out so she could slide along the seat and get out on his side. She wondered if Billy could tell something had happened last night. Nah, she decided.
“Hey, little brother. Marti. You ready to get the beast going? Steven’s got a new Mustang, says it’ll beat anything.”
“It doesn’t look new to me,” Marti said after glancing at the car.
“New to the racing circuit,” Billy corrected. “You gonna race in the Lady Road Warriors?”
“Me? You mean women race these cars?”
“Yep. ‘Course, I don’t think they’ll let a pregnant woman do it.”
“Shucks.”
In a weird way, the idea intrigued her.
Jesse shook his head at the bantering as he pulled out some metal ties and lifted the entire hood off the car. He pulled out a toolbox and started fiddling with the massive engine. A young man with a battered face in dingy jeans and a faded T-shirt that read I’m not arrogant, just better than you sauntered over.
“Well, Jesse James, didn’t think you’d be back with us so soon. Maybe a sponsor’ll spot me as his driver this time.”
Marti could see Jesse’s expression harden. Without looking up at him, Jesse said, “Sponsors aren’t looking for a pretty face, Dwayne. You actually have to know how to drive.”
“We’ll see ‘bout that, West. I think they outta send you back to the dirt tracks.” When Jesse didn’t take his bait, he walked back to his Camaro a little faster than he’d walked over.
“You probably hate coming back here, don’t you?” she asked quietly.
He stopped and looked at her. “Ah, the guys around here will jab at you for anything, but it’s all head games.” He glanced at the track. “I’ll beat these guys to stay in shape. Dwayne knows I can beat his tail end on the dirt, too. That’s what this track was before they decided to become a real racetrack and pave it. Asphalt racing is one thing, but racing in dirt is a thrill all its own. You can’t imagine the feeling when you’re charging down the straightaway, jumping into the left turn. You can feel your backend sliding around, then the car’s sliding sideways, and just when you think ‘aw, heck, this is it,’ you jerk the wheel the other way and straighten the beast out again.
“Or when you’re really feeling your Wheaties and end up sliding around a turn on three wheels, and everybody tells you later that you were kicking dirt twenty feet in the air, but you didn’t have time to enjoy it because you were too busy making sure the fourth wheel stayed on the ground.” He smiled at her. “Nothing like it. Better than sex, or at least any I’ve had.”
Marti shook her head, imagining the s
cary scenario as he spoke. “You must be trying to kill yourself, Jesse.”
“I’m having too much fun to have a death wish. I want to be the best someday, Marti. Right up there with Richard Petty and A.J. Foyt. My dad knew what he was doing when he built my first racecar when I was a kid. It only had a lawnmower engine, but it was a start.”
He went back to his work, but she wasn’t fooled. Jesse hated being there. Why wouldn’t he let his anger show? If only he would share it with her.
“Yee-haw!” a guy yelled out of a stripped Yellow cab, complete with the light on top. She recognized Alan beneath his black cowboy hat as he pulled his car off the trailer and up alongside Jesse’s. He nearly lost his balance climbing out of the window but quickly regained his composure.
“Hey, Jesse, Marti. Billy, that you under there?” Billy belched in response. “Nice to see you, too.” Alan took his hat off and wiped the sweat from his brow with his shirtsleeve. His blond hair was matted in a ring where the hat had been sitting. “Hey, well I’ll be. Another one of our prodigies come back to their old stomping grounds.”
A long-legged man about Jesse’s age with brown hair and brown eyes sauntered over to the car. Jesse walked over and shook his hand.
“Damn, Mark, what brings you around here? Why aren’t you racing?”
Mark? The guy Jesse gave his ASA spot to when he found out Marti was pregnant?
“Serious car trouble, that’s what.” He shrugged, looking around the track. “Since we were down this way, I thought I’d stop by to see you. Figured you’d be around here.”
Jesse leaned on the roof of his car. “How is it driving in the ASA? Last time I talked to you, it was your third race. Now that you’re an old-timer, how is it?”
Mark laughed. “It’s cool, Jesse. I feel like I’m on my way. You’ll get there too, bud.”
“Damned straight, I will,” Jesse said with fiery conviction.
“Maybe sooner than you think,” Mark said meaningfully.
That got Jesse’s attention. “What do you mean?”
Marti sat on the back bumper of the car, feeling as good as invisible. No wonder Jesse didn’t want to be involved with anyone while he made his way up in the racing world. He was much too focused to pay attention to any attention-needing female.
“Minski’s going to build another car. He wants you to drive it.”
There was no hesitation. “I’m there. When’s he going to have it ready?”
“A few months. How long has Marti got?”
When she looked at them at the mention of her name, she saw that same fierce determination in Mark’s eyes that she saw in Jesse’s when it came to racing. Men.
“A few months,” Jesse answered. “I’ve got to wait until she has the baby. Then I’m free.”
Mark gave Jesse a strange look, but didn’t delve further. “I’ll let Minski know. What if he wants you to start racing before the baby comes.”
“He’ll have to wait. I can’t leave Marti for days at a time, and she’ll be too big to come along.”
Mark nodded. “It’ll be good driving together again, Jess.”
“Yeah,” Jesse said, drawing the word out. “It sure will.”
Billy crawled out from beneath the car and leaned in to start it. The roar of the engine was deafening. Mark braced his hands on the side of the engine and asked Billy something about the engine. Jesse walked to the back of the car.
“Did you hear that? Minski’s going to build a second car. I could have another ride.”
“I heard.” She smiled, knowing how much it meant to him. “I’m thrilled for you.”
“It’s what I want most in the world.”
She wondered where she fit into his list of wants in the world. If she fit there at all. Feeling crummy, she changed the subject.
“Why doesn’t Billy have his own car?” she asked over the noise.
“Billy swore he’d never race again after Dad died, but he’s determined to make sure the same thing doesn’t happen to me, so he’s my mechanic on race day. Listen, doll, we’re going to start qualifying soon. It’s going to get crowded around here, and you’re not going to want to hear their trashy language, so it’d probably be a good idea for you to sit up in the stands.” He flashed a grin and pointed to one particular area. “That’s my cheering section. Ma and Caty should be here anytime.” His smile disappeared. “Stay away from Paul when he gets here. I mean it.”
“You don’t have to tell me. You think I want to see you in jail again? No way. Good luck.”
He grimaced. “Don’t wish a racecar driver good luck. It’s bad luck.”
She gave him a confused look then rolled her eyes. “Break a leg. A tire. How about ‘win, dammit.’”
He laughed. “That’ll do.”
On her way out, she glanced back at Jesse. In tight, faded jeans and a cropped T-shirt, he cut an impressive picture. He crouched down to commiserate with Billy and Mark.
“Hey, little lady,” a heavy man she’d never seen before called. “You want to be my pit crew? My old lady hit the road last night.”
He was leaning over his engine, sweaty and red-faced. She tried not to notice the two-inch butt crack showing above his faded jeans.
“How can I be your pit crew if I’m rooting for another driver?” She flashed her wedding ring. “My husband.”
“Oh. Who’s that?”
“Jesse James West,” she said, pride stealing into her voice.
“Hell, forget I asked.”
“Forgotten.”
She had only been sitting in the sparsely filled stands for a few minutes when she spotted Paul’s black truck pulling in with a trailer. Jesse was aware of him, too, but didn’t approach him. In fact, Paul chose a spot at the far end when he saw Jesse set up in the front section. Even from a distance, and a week later, Paul’s faced looked bruised. She wished she could be as sure as Jesse was that he committed the assault on her. The two had a history that obviously tainted Jesse’s objectivity.
Her insides jumped when Paul glanced in her direction, but she couldn’t tell whether he was looking at her or somewhere near her. Just as quickly, he turned and went to work on his car, soon joined by Josh and Skip. Josh said something, and all three glanced up at her. She shifted uncomfortably under their interest.
A short while later, she watched Abbie walk through the gate and across the track to Jesse’s car, boys in tow. Billy stayed beneath the car, although he motioned for the boys to crawl under with him. Abbie held onto her floppy yellow hat as the breeze picked up.
The pit was now packed with cars and people busily making last minute adjustments. Marti concentrated on everyone else but Jesse for a long time, and when she looked back, Abbie wasn’t there. Only the boys were.
Abbie picked her way through the bleachers toward her, wearing a deep blue shirt and white jeans. She had a slight flush on her face, and Marti had a feeling it wasn’t from the trek up the stairs. She sat down next to Marti, then turned and asked, “Is it all right if I sit here? The boys are going to stay down there with their father.”
Marti shrugged, giving more attention to what was going on down below than to Abbie. Jesse illustrated how the four-point harness worked on Clint. Jesse’s blue-jeaned derriere stuck out in their direction when he leaned in the car and pulled out his helmet, settling it on Turk’s head.
Abbie sighed happily, leaning back against the seats behind her. “It seems like forever since I’ve been here, watching Jesse race. It’s a shame, about ASA and all.” She glanced subtly at Marti’s belly. “But he told me the sponsor is building a second car so he has another chance. I’m so happy for him. It must be hard to come back to this after getting so far.”
“He doesn’t seem to mind that much,” Marti said, trying to keep the defensiveness out of her voice. Hell, she wasn’t even the one who’d gotten pregnant and stolen his chance away.
“I think he does.”
“I know he does,” Marti said, refusing to have Abbie kno
w more about Jesse than she did.
Abbie watched Jesse with a wistful expression. “He could do anything well. I told him I could watch the baby while he travelled the ASA circuit, and eventually NASCAR. The kids and I could even travel with him sometimes. The boys would love it, and—”
“Don’t you know you’d only be second?”
Abbie’s smile disappeared when she pulled her gaze from Jesse and her sons, torn from her happy reverie. “What do you mean?”
“Nothing is going to mean as much to him as racing. Especially since the setback. He’s not going to let anyone stand in his way of his dream. Not his baby, and not you. You’ll always be second best.”
Abbie smiled. “A good wife doesn’t stand in the way of her man going after his dreams. If that means being second, that’s all right by me.”
A good wife…her man. Abbie’s proposal wasn’t just a marriage of convenience on her part; she was in love with Jesse. Marti watched him joking around with a group of men.
“You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”
She was startled to hear Abbie voice her own thoughts. “What makes you say that?”
“I’m sorry, I should have realized it when we talked in the kitchen that first night. But I didn’t see it then, the way your eyes follow his every move, the way they drink him in. I wonder if you even see it yourself.”
Marti shifted uncomfortably on the hard bench. Of course, she saw it; that didn’t mean she was going to admit it. And she didn’t want to explore it much, in any case.
“You think because I appreciate him physically that I’m in love with him?”
“All I know is that you walk in, screw up his life by getting pregnant, and now you want to leave. I’m not condemning you. It’s just that, any other woman in that position would be feeling some amount of guilt. So when someone like me comes along and offers him his dreams again, you should feel relieved. But you obviously don’t, and there’s a reason. Or maybe you’re not planning to leave anymore.”
Marti felt trapped, searching for an answer to give Abbie—and herself. When she looked up to see Helen, Caty, and Dean walking toward them, she stood and waved, effectively ending their conversation. Then she further insured it wouldn’t start again by directing Caty and Dean to sit between her and Abbie.
Stranger in the Mirror [Shades of Heaven] (Soul Change Novel) Page 20