by Amy Sparling
I drop my bag on the table next to the TV. “This place is nice.”
“I like staying in the Radisson when we’re on tour,” Zach says, closing the door behind us and dropping his bag on the table next to mine.
“You get to stay in fancy hotels like this all the time?” I ask.
He nods. He grabs his elbow with one hand and looks around the room. “They put us up in nice places.”
He looks a little distracted. Something about this confident womanizing man looking so vulnerable is an instant turn on. I feel it in my belly, the desire for him rising up into an uncontrollable need.
I walk toward him and watch his expression soften.
“Bree,” he breathes as I wrap my arms around him. “There’s things we should talk about.”
I lean up on my toes and kiss him. “I don’t want to talk.”
His arms wrap tightly around me as I kiss him again. “We should though,” he whispers between kissing me. “Talk, I mean.”
I press against his chest and slide my hands up his neck, then pull his face down to mine. I feel him harden in his jeans as his member presses against my abdomen. “We can talk later,” I whisper into his ear. He exhales a ragged breath, and his grip on my waist tightens. I knew I’d win him over.
I grab his shirt and pull it off, tossing it over an armchair. Then I reach for his jeans and unbutton them, letting gravity assist me as I tug them down. He steps out of them, and soon he’s standing before me with a raging hard on wearing only boxer briefs. He gives me a sultry grin. “Your turn.”
I slip out of my dress and then take off my strapless bra. I thought I’d be more nervous, but I’m not. I’m so ready for this. So ready for him.
I step backward until I reach the bed, and then I sit on it and motion for him to join me. Zach leans over and kisses me while his fingers hook under the sides of my panties and pulls them off. I wiggle out of the thin fabric and lay back on the bed while Zach hovers over me. He kisses my neck, my collarbone, and then slips down to my breast, wrapping his lips around my nipple.
I let my hands tangle in his hair and I relax into the pleasure of his caressing licks and kisses. His hands roam over my body and his lips explore all the way down to where I’m pulsing with need and desire.
When he licks my clit I cry out in pleasure. Nothing has ever felt so damn good. His hands grip my thighs as he licks down the length of nerves and back up again, his eyes meeting mine as he sucks slowly on my most sensitive area.
I grip the bed sheets as I try to hold onto some ounce of control, but my body moves with him, loving every second of his magical tongue work. When I feel like I can’t take it anymore, I grab his face and tilt it up to look at me.
“I want you,” I breathe while the space between my legs burns and aches for more. “I want all of you.”
“Yes ma’am,” he growls as he lifts up. He slides one finger inside me as he kisses his way back up to my lips. My breathing is erratic and my heart is fluttering.
I tug at his boxers and he pulls them off. He leans over the bed and grabs his jeans off the floor. I admire the rippling of his muscular frame as he works, but my body is aching terribly to have him back. He grabs a condom from his pocket and rips it open.
His eyes meet mine as if to ask a question.
I nod, answering it. Yes, I’m ready. Yes, I want this.
Zach covers me with his body and kisses me softly. I am all hot desperate anticipation until he finally enters me, so slowly it drives me crazy.
Zach’s lovemaking is sweet and slow at first. I close my eyes and move my hips with his, letting him guide our speed into a steady rhythm of pleasure.
My nails dig into his back and his breath is hot on my neck as he crushes into me, giving me everything I’ve wanted for so many days now.
His body tenses as he nears climax, and I grind into him, feeling my own ecstasy shortly after his. We finish together with a cascade of kisses and heavy breathing. He’s still inside me as he rests on his elbows and peers into my eyes.
Whoa.
That was hands down the best thing I’ve ever experienced. But I know better than to say it out loud. I smile up at him instead.
“Now isn’t this better than talking?”
Chapter 15
Waking up with Bree in my arms is even better than I’d imagined it would be. She’s so soft and angelic, curled up under the blankets next to me. I close my eyes and bury my face in her hair and enjoy the moment for as long as I can.
And then the guilt sinks in. I try to push it back, but it’s overwhelming. I had a plan, and I didn’t do it. I was supposed to tell her that I’m leaving, flying out to Vegas for the race next weekend. It was supposed to be the first thing I said. We could have acknowledged that this is just a fling and it’s no big deal and then we could have spent one last fun night together.
But I didn’t stick to the plan.
I couldn’t get the words out. I didn’t want the night to be darkened with the news that I’m leaving tomorrow. Bree just brings something out in me that I can’t push aside. I wanted to wrap her up in my arms and never let go.
Bree opens her eyes and looks back at me. “What are you thinking about?” she asks.
“Nothing,” I say.
She rolls over and gives me a look. “You’re lying. I can tell you’re thinking something.”
I take a deep breath and sit up in bed. I can’t hold off any longer. I scrub my hands over my face and then look at her.
“I got called back to Team Loco.”
She sits up and gives me a curious look. “What does that mean?”
“This guy on my team got injured and can’t race the rest of the summer season so I’m taking his place.”
I try to say it like it’s good news, because it is good for my career. But it’s not good for us.
Bree’s eyes widen and then her lips turn down. “You’re leaving.”
It’s not a question, it’s a statement.
I exhale slowly. “Yeah.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow.”
Her eyes flash with what can only be the feeling of betrayal. She stands up and storms across the hotel room. “How long did you know?”
I want to lie to her, but I can’t. “A few days,” I say, feeling fully like the asshole that I am. “I didn’t know how to tell you.”
“No, of course not,” she snaps. “But you certainly knew how to get me into bed before you ran off.” She grabs her jeans and tugs them on over her panties. She unplugs her phone and shoves it in her bag and then zips it all closed.
“Bree,” I say, “It’s not like that.”
“No, it’s exactly like that,” she says, the anger in her voice cutting me like a knife. “You just wanted to get laid before you jet off and go back to your old lifestyle. You didn’t change. And I’m the dumbass who thought that you did.”
She walks right out the door and lets it slam closed behind her.
She has every right to be pissed at me. When I put myself in her shoes, that’s what it seems like. That I used her just for sex. But that’s not even close to being true. I had avoided her for the last two days because I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t reconcile my feelings for her with the fact that I can’t get in a relationship right now. I can’t get a girlfriend. I have to focus on motocross. Even if I did let myself feel what I want to feel for Bree—what kind of relationship would we have? She’d be stuck in Hopewell missing me every weekend while I was flying around from town to town racing for Team Loco. It just doesn’t work. She would have gotten hurt no matter what. So I did the right thing and I stayed away.
Until I couldn’t anymore. Then I got the hotel. I was supposed to tell her the truth. I figured we’d talk about how much it sucks but then agree to stay friends.
It wasn’t supposed to go like this.
I sink to the bed, my head resting in my palms.
Fuck.
I’m up too early on Saturday morning. Ea
rly days usually don’t bother me, but I didn’t sleep at all last night. Like a fool, I’d texted Bree a few times and then called her. She didn’t reply to my texts and she didn’t answer her phone. Her cousin Mia had that honor.
I still remember Mia’s words when she picked up my call. “She doesn’t want to talk to you,” she’d said. “Stop calling. My cousin is too good for you.”
I drink some water and pace the small area of Team Loco’s tent. We’re set up in the VIP pit area of the Vegas stadium, right outside in the parking lot. In an hour or so, the pits will open up to the fans who have purchased pit passes and they’ll walk around and get autographs and want to take pictures with the racers.
I’m not in the mood to meet anyone, especially the fans that I’ve promised to always be kind to. I don’t even feel like racing today.
“What’s wrong?” Clay says as he makes his way under the rope that sections off the racers from the fans. He’s holding a pink cup with a thick straw in it. “You look like shit.”
My other teammate Jett is right behind him, also holding a pink cup with a huge straw. “You nervous?” Jett asks. “Don’t be. I know you’ve been gone for a few weeks, but you’ll be fine once you get on the track.”
I shake my head but I can’t think of anything to say. I’m not nervous about the race. And maybe that’s the big problem here. I don’t care at all about this race. I just want to be back home with her. And she wants nothing to do with me.
“You should go to the smoothie truck down there,” Clay says, pointing somewhere off to the right. “They’re making free smoothies for the racers and they’re delicious.”
Jet nods as he drinks from his cup. “They’re amazing.”
I want so badly to tell them that’s a good idea and then go get my own smoothie. I want things to feel like they used to when I spent all my time with these guys traveling from race to race. But my stomach is already too nervous with the ache of missing Bree and no damn smoothie is going to taste good right now.
I stop pacing and sit on one of the Team Loco branded canvas chairs. I run my hands through my hair and tell myself to get my shit together.
Jett hovers nearby, the straw of his smoothie gurgling with each sip. “Dude, what’s going on?”
“Nothing,” I say, trying to force a smile.
He frowns. “This doesn’t seem like pre-race jitters, man. You know you’re gonna do fine out there. So what’s making you so stressed?”
I shake my head and exhale. “I don’t know. Just not having a good day.”
Jett looks like he wants to say something else, but he doesn’t. He’s the youngest member of Team Loco and he’s our newest rookie, yet sometimes he feels older than all of us. He’s just mature and confident and seems like he’s never had a bad day. I don’t know how he does it. But he is the son of the famous motocross racer Jace Adams, who was one of my childhood heroes. Maybe growing up in the sport with someone like that as a dad gives you a better outlook on life. When I was a kid, I had no one but my mom and the dads at the track who would help me out along the way.
I pretend like there’s something on my phone worth looking at, and Jett eventually starts talking to Clay and they leave me alone.
When it’s time to race, I feel the familiar tingle of adrenaline that normally comes with a race. It makes me feel a little better knowing that my body still knows what to do even if my mind is occupied. We get dressed in our race gear and the team’s mechanics start our bikes and get everything ready to go.
I ride out of the parking lot in the designated pathway for racers that leads us straight into the stadium where thousands of fans wait to watch the race. We line up at the starting line and I rev my engine. It feels good to be back on my team bike, with its powerful engine and suspension that makes it far superior to my old bike at home.
Bree still floats in my mind, and I don’t think I’m capable of forgetting her, not even for a twenty-minute race. The gate drops and my skill kicks in. I get a good starting position and I’m only two bikes behind Jett, who is in the lead.
I ride hard and fast and I put everything I have into this race, despite the aching pain in my chest that’s throwing me off. When the checkered flag flies, I am in third place.
Not good, but not bad.
And it keeps me on the team.
I follow my teammates out of the arena and back to the pits. Some fans stand around and wave at us and I wave back, trying to put on a smile even though they can’t see it through my helmet.
When we get to our tent, Marcus slaps a hand on my back and tells me I did a good job. But most of the attention is on Jett, who won the race.
I pull off my helmet and grab a bottle of water. I feel a light tap on my shoulder, and I turn around to find Keanna Park standing right in front of me. She’s normally friendly and sweet but right now she looks serious.
“Let’s talk.”
Chapter 16
I haul the vacuum cleaner out of the back of Mom’s car. This is the fourth house we’ve cleaned this morning and it’s not even noon yet. I am exhausted because I haven’t slept well for two days. My stupid brain won’t stop thinking about that asshole who slept with me and then raced off to go be famous again.
And it doesn’t help that I’m currently standing in front of his mom’s house.
Since Zach is gone, I decided I can help Mama make her rounds today. Luckily my parents have no idea about my pathetic love life, and I intend to keep it that way. I’m sure Mama would want to sit down and talk about my feelings, and Dad would probably gripe at me for being stupid enough to hook up with a motocross guy. He’s spent my whole life telling me that motocross guys are trouble. Who knew he was right.
I refuse to think that the ache in my chest is even close to heartache. Zach didn’t break my heart. I’m not that pathetic. I refuse to be. The pain is just betrayal, I tell myself. It’s the feeling of some guy being a dick. That’s all.
I lug the vacuum cleaner into Ms. Pena’s house and set it by the front door. I always vacuum last, so I can leave clean carpet lines behind us. Mama is cleaning the kitchen, and I know the hallway and bedrooms are my part of the job. I hold my shoulders back and stand straight and I refuse to let this hurt me. He’s just some guy. I mean nothing to him, and therefore I’ll make sure he means nothing to me.
I go straight into Zach’s childhood bedroom and get to work. I dust and clean and tidy up. Right now it looks like a kid’s room again. All traces of the grown up Zach have been packed up and taken with him. I make quick work of the job, and then I close the door and get to working on the rest of the house.
We clean three more houses until we’re done for the day. My chest doesn’t stop hurting. By this point, I’m more pissed off at myself than Zach. Why can’t I get it together? Why can’t I be like the guys who sleep around and never think twice about it? Why do I have to have all these fucking feelings?
I actually thought I cared about Zach. I thought we had a connection.
What an idiot.
I take a long hot shower to wash off the chemicals and sweat from cleaning houses all day. Then I change into my most comfortable pajamas, a pair of soft fleece-lined leggings and a baggy T-shirt. I need to take care of myself so that my stupid wrecked heart can heal again.
I also need a job. A good job that pays well and is located anywhere else but Hopewell, Tennessee. I make a milkshake because what’s better than ice cream to make you feel better, and then I sprawl out on my bed and watch TV while I open my laptop.
I am determined to find a good job. I open all the usual career websites and get to work. I apply for everything that sounds even remotely interesting, and when I’m tired of clicking through dozens of tedious job applications, I take a deep breath and send a few more.
The sooner I find a good job, the sooner I get out of here. Living on a motocross track is no way to get over the guy I was starting to fall for. I yawn and stretch out on my bed, changing positions because my elbows are ge
tting tired.
On TV, an infomercial has started, and the two hosts are doing their best to sell me some stupid cooking appliance that looks like it’d break after one use. I check the time. It’s just after eight, and I’ve been applying for jobs for four hours. Holy shit. If I don’t get one of these jobs I’ll lose my mind.
I click on the next job opening on the laptop screen in front of me. It’s for a business manager position at an office park. It’s one of those modern places like Google, where the building is made of glass with contemporary architecture, and hipsters abound. The job listing says you’ll get free dry cleaning, free lunch in their state of the art cafeteria, and free access to their company gym that has over two hundred exercise machines. Their employee benefits are top of the line and you start out with four weeks paid vacation.
This would be an amazing job. I actually fit the requirements, too. It says they’ll conduct interviews for anyone who has an associates degree or higher. They put emphasis on finding the right candidate for the job based on their personality and work ethics, not their education. Woohoo!
I open my resume and tweak it a bit so it makes me look as good as possible. Then, when I’m about to upload it, I realize I didn’t even pay attention to where the job is located.
I go back and look, and my heart sinks. Nashville.
That’s where Zach lives when he has his own place. Will he go back there now that he’s famous again? Probably.
I grit my teeth. I can’t let the fear of running into Zach stop me from applying for my dream job. I send the application.
The page refreshes and thanks me for applying. Then there’s a line at the bottom of the page that makes my heart sink.
You are applicant number 4338. Due to the high number of applicants, we can’t interview everyone and will therefore conduct screening and will call chosen applicants for an initial phone interview.
It goes on but I don’t bother reading it all. There are over four thousand people trying to get this dream job. There’s no way it’ll be me.