by Kaylee Ryan
“Really?”
“Nope. I stayed in a motel when I first left home. It was cheap, and I needed cheap until I found a place to stay.” She must see the question in my eyes. “My dad was a jerk. Hated me, blamed me for my mother leaving. My childhood was… well, not really one to talk about. My Uncle Bobby, he’s really the only person I had growing up who cared about me. I was going to move in with him as soon as I turned eighteen. He passed a few weeks before that. He didn’t have much, but what he did have he left to me. It was enough for me to get out of town, find a shitty studio apartment, and enroll in school. I worked two jobs all the way through to support myself.”
“I’m not sure I know what to say to that,” I admit.
She shrugs. “Nothing. That’s my life, my story if you will. I don’t want or expect your pity. I’m who I am because of it.”
Shit, and here I am telling her we will never be anything. How am I any different than her father?
“No.” She settles in the booth, and I take the seat across from her just as we start to move. She glances over her shoulder—my guess is to gauge if the others are paying attention to us. Reaching across the table, she laces her fingers with mine. “I want this with you. I want the excitement, and I need to see what this is. This… overpowering draw that I have toward you. I know what the consequences are. I have my eyes wide open, trust me on this one, Blaine. I didn’t come to this decision lightly.”
“Okay.” What else is there for me to say? I’m a selfish bastard, and I want her.
She gives me a soft smile, just the corner of her lips tilting upward. “Okay.”
We spend the next couple of hours talking about movies and playing cards. She even convinces me to watch Cars with her. Little did I know it was an animated film about racing. I have to admit it kept my attention, although I would never say so out loud. Surprisingly, it’s the most fun I’ve had outside of the race car in too damn long.
It’s just after five and we’ve decided to stop for the day. We hit traffic, and have about another five hours of driving, at least that’s what Kevin says. So, we’re at the hotel, spending the night and even though I know it sounds childish, I’m excited. Blaine insisted on paying for my room, even though I protested. He wouldn’t hear of it. When Brian chimed in to let his son pay, I gave up the fight. I wasn’t going to win anyway.
“How about everyone gets settled in their rooms and then we head to dinner? The hotel has a restaurant. Is that good with everyone?” Robin asks. She’s not only Blaine’s mother, but she seems to take care of all of them when they’re traveling.
“That’s a good plan,” Jacob says. He’s the least tired of all of us, never ending up taking a turn driving. He slept several hours.
“Here are the keys to your rooms. We’re not all on the same floors. I tried, but no such luck. Kevin, Rick, and Jacob, you guys are on the second floor. Mom and Dad, you’re on the third.” Blaine turns to me. “You’re on four and I’m on five.” He hands me a room key.
I smile, not because he’s paying for my room, but because of where we are. I’m staying in a hotel, with a card key. It’s the little things in life, but I keep my excitement to myself. “Thank you.” I smile up at him. He nods.
“Right. So that gives us about thirty-five minutes to get settled. Meet here in the lobby at six,” Robin says, pushing the button for the elevator. All of us, with bags in tow, follow her on board. The guys are dropped off first, then Robin and Brian. When the doors open for my floor, I step out, as does Blaine.
“What are you doing?” I ask him.
“Just making sure you get into your room okay.”
“I’m a big girl, Blaine Bishop,” I remind him.
“I know you are, Aubree Chase,” he says huskily, causing warmth to radiate through my body.
I follow the signs and keep my eyes glued to the room numbers until I find mine. With reined in excitement, I slide the card into the door and hear the lock click open. Pushing into the room, I can no longer hide my smile. There is a decent-size bathroom, a king-size bed, a table, dresser, TV, chair, and a mini-fridge. “Blaine, this is too much.” I turn to face him. He’s dropped his bags and is standing right behind me.
“Let me have that.” He takes my bag and tosses it gently to the floor. “This room is a standard room, Bree. We all got the same one.”
I look around again, before turning back to face him. “This is the nicest place I’ve ever stayed,” I confess.
“Yeah?” He steps closer. Reaching out, he snakes his arms around my waist. “I’m glad,” he whispers, his lips just a breath from mine.
My chest rises and falls as my breathing grows faster, louder. “Do it.” I exhale the words. I want him to kiss me. I can see it in his eyes, that’s his intention, but he’s hesitant. I don’t want him hesitant. I want him to kiss me.
Not needing further invitation, he presses his lips to mine. With the gentle stroke of his tongue against my lips, I’m opening for him. He’s tentative as his tongue brushes against mine. My hands grip the back of his T-shirt, holding him to me. I want him closer, and I can’t seem to get him there. Releasing my grip, I slide my hands under his shirt and dig my nails into the defined muscles of his back.
“Fuck, Bree,” he murmurs before kissing me harder. There is no hesitation in the way his tongue invades my mouth and battles for space, or the way he tastes me. His hands grip the back of my thighs and suddenly, I’m airborne as he tosses me on the bed. He crawls on the bed after me, holding his weight with his arms on either side of my head. “You sure this is what you want? You know I can’t give you more,” he reminds me. My heart pounds like a bass drum in my chest.
“I want this, Blaine. I want you.” I keep my eyes locked on his, willing him to believe me. There is no backing out, not on my end. I’ve fought this long enough, and the idea alone of the excitement of being with him fuels my desire even more so. I want to live a little. I want to experience this deep-rooted passion that we seem to share. Heartbreak be damned.
“I need more time,” he whispers against my lips.
“What?” I ask, confused. I thought we were both on board with this.
“I need to trace every inch of your skin with my tongue. I need to worship these.” He lightly brushes his index finger on my breast. “I need more time,” he says again. I must still have a confused look on my face. “We have to be downstairs in twenty-five minutes, but I can give you this.” He settles beside me, propping his head up on one hand while the other travels down my body, only stopping when he reaches the button of my blue jean shorts. The button pops and I suck in a deep breath.
“You okay?” His hand is still, waiting for me to give him permission.
“Yeah.” I look over at him. His eyes are filled with heat, his lips red from our kiss. I run my fingers through his hair. “I’m more than okay.” I’m no virgin, but this is all new to me. This overbearing need to have his hands on me and mine on him. This want for him to devour me is all new.
He proceeds to slide the zipper down, making room for his hand. Immediately, I feel the warmth of his skin even through my panties. Gently, he strokes a finger over my clit. “Bree,” he breathes. I want to feel ashamed that I’m soaked, and I know he can feel it, but I can’t seem to find it in me to care. Cautiously, he runs his fingers over me, and even with the barrier of my silk panties in the way, his touch lights me on fire.
“More,” I say, my lips next to his ear. My hands are buried in his hair, pulling him toward me. My mouth latches onto his and he doesn’t disappoint. He kisses me as if I’m the air he needs to breathe. I take in a deep breath when his hand slides under my panties.
“Talk to me,” he demands.
“Don’t stop,” I pant, closing my eyes and letting my head fall back onto the pillow. He kisses my neck, his stubble scratching me, but it’s a sensation I crave. His tongue is crazy talented as he licks and sucks on my neck. His fingers equally so as he slides them through my folds. I try to open my
legs wider for him, but my shorts are restricting.
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, nipping at my ear.
His thumb circles my clit just as his fingers press inside. He works me over, slow at first, letting my body get time to adjust to him. That doesn’t take long, I don’t think I’ve ever been this turned on, this ready in my entire life. When he adds another digit, I lift my hips, needing something, but not knowing what it is. I can feel my orgasm building. It’s a slow, torturous climb, equal parts maddening and bliss. Sensing I need more, he moves his thumb faster while thrusting in and out of me with his fingers.
“Blaine,” I moan from the intense satisfaction it brings me.
“Bree,” he answers. He doesn’t slow his pace. “Open your eyes.” I do as he says and find his intense stare focused on me. “I want to see you when you fall apart.”
As if his words are what I needed to do so, my orgasm comes thrashing through me. One hand is buried in his hair, while the other digs into his arm, the one that is currently bringing me to the abyss of pleasure.
“Fuck, you’re squeezing my fingers. That’s so hot,” he says, not stopping his ministrations. As my body comes down from its high, only then does he slow. He removes his thumb, but lazily strokes his fingers inside of me. “So wet,” he says with awe in his voice.
“So worth it,” I finally say, making him chuckle.
“We have about five minutes before we have to be downstairs. Let me help you clean up.” He kisses my lips quickly and climbs off the bed. I know I need to get up, but I can’t seem to find the will or the want. If I could stay in this room just the two of us forever, repeating that, I would. No questions, no hesitation.
“Stand up for me.” Opening my eyes, I see him standing by the bed, offering me his hand. Reluctantly, I place my hand in his and let him pull me to my feet. Dropping to his knees, he slides my shorts and my panties down my legs. It’s not until I feel the warm damp cloth do I realize he’s cleaning me up. Taking care of me. My heart squeezes in my chest. It’s been a long time since I’ve allowed anyone to do so. It’s not lost on me that it’s Blaine. I knew I was falling for him. I know that it’s going to end in heartache, but the certainty of that doesn’t keep me from wanting to do this.
“I’ll grab some clean panties,” I say, my face heating. I close my eyes, not wanting to see his face. I feel his lips press just below my belly button before he stands and kisses my lips one more time.
“Good idea,” he says. “These”—I open my eyes and see him holding my black silk panties—“are soaked.” He then proceeds to shove them into his pants pocket.
“What are you doing?”
“These are mine, Bree. I need something of you for when I can’t have you. You wanted this to be just between us and I agreed to your terms. However, after that—” He points to the bed. “—it’s going to be hard as fuck to stay away from you, regardless of who’s around. So these”—he taps his jeans pocket—“will be what gets me through.”
I open my mouth to argue, but quickly shut it. It’s hot, and I like the thought of affecting him this way. So instead, I reach into my bag and pull out another pair of panties. I take my time stepping into them and sliding them up my legs and over my hips. I reach for my shorts and do the same.
“Ready?”
He reaches into the front of his pants and adjusts his hard length.
“I can… I mean, won’t that be painful?” I ask, again feeling my cheeks flood with embarrassment.
“I’m good,” he assures me. “Besides, that was just an appetizer.” He steps closer. “After dinner, I plan to have dessert.”
“Crap!” I look at the clock and see it’s two minutes past six. “We’re late.”
He laces his fingers through mine and leads us to the door. “I’ve got the key.” He holds up the card and shows me before shoving it into his back pocket. He doesn’t let go of my hand until the elevator stops at the lobby level and the doors slide open. We walk side by side, closer than necessary but unable to fight the pull. We find everyone waiting for us just outside the restaurant.
“Sorry we’re late. We had to stop at every floor on the way down,” Blaine excuses.
“We’re waiting on a table anyway. How’s your room, dear?” she asks me.
“It’s very nice.” I turn to look at Blaine. “Thank you.” It’s more than just a thank you for the room, and by the heated look he gives me, he knows it too.
“Bishop party of seven,” the hostess calls out.
We fall in line to head to our table when I feel his hand on the small of my back and his hot breath against my ear. “Never thank me for giving you pleasure, Bree. It’s equally as much for me as it is for you.”
And just like that, another pair of ruined panties.
Party of seven, table for eight. Somehow, I managed to get seated on the opposite side of the table than Aubree. Mom is sitting on her right, and Rick to her left. The seat next to him is open, so he had a choice of where he sat. Of course, he chose right next to her. Dad distracted me when we got to the table, talking about the weather that’s headed toward Pennsylvania. They are supposed to have storms, which could mean potential rain, possibly delaying or canceling the race altogether.
So, now here I am, wondering if this long-ass drive is for nothing, watching one of my closest friends flirt with my girl. Okay, technically she’s not mine, but while this thing—whatever it is between us—is happening she is. While she spends her nights in my bed, she’s mine. I not only don’t do serious relationships, but I don’t share. I never have. I’m an only child and a selfish bastard. Apparently, especially when it comes to Aubree. I’ve imagined throat punching Rick a thousand times in the last hour. He’s sitting closer than he needs to, and he’s monopolizing all of her attention.
I guess I should be glad it takes the heat off of us, but I find that when it comes to her, I don’t give a fuck who knows. I agreed to her terms because I want her. I’m not usually one for displays of affection. I keep my conquests to myself. However, it’s been a long damn time since there has even been a hookup in my life. My singular focus has been my career, until the gorgeous redhead sitting across from me came crashing into my world.
“Blaine,” my dad says, pulling me out of my thoughts.
“Yeah?” I turn to look at him. He’s grinning.
“I said your name three times.”
“Sorry, just thinking about the race.” Not a complete lie.
“That’s what I was trying to talk to you about. Maybe we should stay here tomorrow, and see how this plays out. Save us ten hours of drive time there and back to this point if it looks like it’s going to be a wash.”
Immediately, my mind goes to Aubree and me in her room, or hell, in mine the one I’ve yet to see because all I can see is her. “Yeah, not a bad idea. I guess leaving home this early wasn’t the best move.”
“I think it was. We’re five hours away from the track, and just about the same from home. This could go either way. If they run, we don’t show up at the last minute. If they don’t, we don’t have to drive ten hours to get home.”
“Good point.”
“What’s going on?” Mom asks.
“We were just talking about the race. The weather is coming in. Says severe storms Friday through Sunday. There’s a chance they’re going to cancel.”
“We should stay here another night then,” Mom says.
Dad smiles at her. That loving “you could be cussing my ass out” look, and I’d still worship you. It’s the way he’s always looked at her. “That’s what we were thinking,” he finally says.
“Damn, I wish Ash could have made this trip,” Kevin comments.
I don’t know how he does it. He looks at Ash like Dad looks at Mom. I couldn’t imagine spending so much time away from someone I loved so much. Kev makes a good living as my crew chief, but it’s not about the money, rather it’s Ashley’s decision to have her independence. I can see her giving that up when, and if,
they have a baby. Which to hear Kev talk could be soon.
“She’s welcome anytime. I’ve told her that over and over again,” Mom says.
“Yeah, she knows. My wife is stubborn to a fault. She enjoys working.”
“Nothing wrong with that,” Dad chimes in.
“I get it,” Aubree adds. “I worked hard in college and to be where I am in life. To give that up, to trust someone else to take care of me, I’m not sure I could do it.”
Rick places his arm on the back of her chair. “You just need to find the right guy.” He wags his eyebrows at her. Rage bubbles over, and if it were not for the chance I might hit Aubree, I’d kick him under the table.
“Even then,” Aubree says. “I’ve been dependent on a man who hated me. It’s not anything I would ever wish on anyone. My job ensures I’ll never have to again.”
“Oh, honey, don’t let one bad relationship turn you off love,” Mom tells her.
“It’s hard to do when that relationship is your father.” She slaps her hand over her mouth as soon as the words are out. Mom convinced her to have a glass of wine with dinner, and she’s a little freer with her words than normal. The table is eerily silent, and I find myself wanting to hold her, capture her in my embrace and protect her, tell her everything is going to be okay. I’ve never felt the need to comfort anyone, but I’ve already established Aubree is not just anyone.
“Aubree girl,” Dad speaks up. His voice is calm and clear. “Please forgive me for talking ill of your father, but no man deserves the title of father who makes his child feel that way. I’m sorry for what you’ve been through, and I can promise you that the men sitting at this table, none of them are like that. You can trust us, sweetheart,” he adds.
Mom places her hand over Aubree’s that’s resting on the table. “We’re all here for you,” she says, keeping her voice low, her words meant only for Aubree.
When a tear trails down her cheek, I’ve had enough. Dinner is done, and we’ve all just been sitting around chatting. I stand and hand Dad my business credit card. “Take care of this, will you?” I don’t wait for his reply, I know he will. Instead, I walk around the table, and place my hands on the back of her chair. I bend down and whisper just for her, “Let’s get you settled.” Her reply is to scoot back in her chair and stand.