Open Wheel

by Shey Stahl

  Is he making fun of me?

  “You don’t lose your virginity. It’s not a possession. Like your car.” He pointed out, throwing a line in the water. “If you’re Willie, you lose your car.”

  “Okay, so what would you call it then?”

  “You gave it to someone.” There was a certainty in his dismissive tone. Like he was annoyed that I would think otherwise. Beside him, he turned up the radio when Brantley Gilbert came on. The song was perfect for the moment, and in some ways, a subtle reminder of what he was doing to me.

  “You’re a nice guy, aren’t you?” I half teased.

  He was quiet, staring at me with a creased brow, trying to decide how he wanted to answer that. The sun caught his eyes, so blue and bright on mine. “I suppose I have my moments.”

  “Who’d you give it to then?”

  “A girl in high school.” His absent tone made me realize he wasn’t exactly interested in this conversation, or revealing any of this to me. But I needed to know these things about him. I was sure of it.

  Weariness rippled through me, staring at the water. When I finally did ask the question I was dying to know, the wavering in my voice shocked me. “What was her name?”

  “Kenna.”

  My throat felt tight and I could barely get the words out. “Was she your girlfriend?”

  “No. I’ve never had one.” His voice thickened, and then he cleared his throat before continuing. “Never really wanted one, and most girls didn’t think much of a guy who spent every weekend at the track or traveling.”

  “So tell me about Kenna then.”

  “She was a buddy’s sister. We had sex behind the bleachers in the football field while her brother won the state championship. All she wanted was bragging rights with her friends, I suppose because she never talked to me again and her brother kicked my ass.”

  “How old were you?”

  “Seventeen…almost eighteen.” A deep breath and a sigh followed his words, probably hoping at some point he would pacify my curiosity around his sex life.

  You’re annoying him. Shut up!

  “I would have thought you had girls all over you in school.”

  “Nope.” Leaning forward, Rager yanked his shirt over his shoulder when the heat became too much. I wished I could do the same. “I didn’t have time for that, and any girl I was interested in didn’t understand I had a plan for after I graduated.”

  “And that was?” I couldn’t look away from his sculpted body even if I wanted to.

  “Racing the Outlaws.” He raised his eyebrows at me, knowing I was watching him. “Your dad actually hired me before I even graduated.”

  I knew that. I remembered Dad getting the clearance from the sponsors he had lined up for Rager because he was under eighteen.

  I couldn’t take the heat from his stare, or the day, and pulled my tank top off like he’d done, letting it lay on the log behind me.

  Rager tipped his head to the side, glancing over at me with a weighted gaze. “You keep that up and we’ll be naked before noon.”

  “So be it then.” I smiled back at him. “I’m hot.”

  “Yes…you are.”

  With his shirt off, I had a clear view of his tattoo again and it made me curious. He tried to say the tattoo meant nothing, but people don’t ink their body for no reason. I had one on my left ribcage that read: She might fall, but she’ll never lay down.

  That one meant a lot to me as I got it not long after my mom battled with cancer. It was something for her, and something for me in the time of my life when I questioned everything from my faith to my existence.

  Sinking my bare feet into the water, I asked, “What does your tattoo mean?”

  Drawing in a breath, he smiled. “It doesn’t have to mean a damn thing,” he mumbled, being difficult, his tone belying to the trepidation on his face.

  “But I know it does.”

  Notably tense, Rager flipped my request around and then side-eyed me. “Misery.”

  Misery?

  For me?

  For us?

  The way he threw out the line, told me not to pry any more than I had.

  For a while, Rager was quiet, reflective on his thoughts while I tried to think of a way to tell him. I didn’t want to just blurt it out.

  He stared at the pole and then raised his eyebrows, the beer in his left hand stopping halfway before meeting his lips. “Who was yours?” he asked, inquisitiveness laced in his words.

  “Who what?”

  I watched his bright eyes framed by dark lashes close, and open again. “You’re first.”

  I thought Rager knew this as Tommy liked to tease me about Ricky and Brian, both poor choices on my part. But apparently he didn’t, or he wanted to hear me say who I gave my virginity to.

  “Ricky Hagen.”

  After taking a drink of his beer, he hung his head, his eyes squeezed shut before he stood.

  Rager didn’t say anything at first, his cargo shorts hung low enough on his hips that not only was the band of his boxer briefs showing, but the sharp cut lines of his body I wanted to run my tongue over. His eyes remained on the creek when he asked, “How old were you?”

  “Two days after my sixteenth birthday.”

  “It should have been me,” he mumbled, leaving me with that.

  I wasn’t ready to leave the conversation there. For so long I wondered how much of Rager telling me no when I was sixteen had to do with my age, and how much of it had to do with my dad.

  “Do you wish now we would have continued that night in your room?”

  I stared at him as I wiped dirt from my feet, never leaving his stare.

  Rager shrugged one shoulder, as if he was trying hard to be obtuse. “I think about it, yes. But you were sixteen, Arie. I was nineteen. If you had been older, then yeah, I would have acted on it.”

  “That wasn’t what I asked.”

  He gave me that look, the one that screamed ‘are you for real right now.’ “Yes, I wished I would have continued.”

  Wrapping my arms around my knees, I considered those words.

  The rain was moving in and painted the sky with colors that reminded me of Rager’s eyes. The humidity had added some interesting waves to my hair.

  Rager reached over twirling a curl between his fingers. “What would Hollywood think of you now? All natural, messy hair, slightly smelly…”

  “I don’t smell.” To prove my point, I smelled my armpits only to have Rager laugh. “And no, he doesn’t see me this way.”

  Licking his bottom lip, he gave a nod and then let a smile touch his face, faintly. “He never did get to see the you I see. I like the girl with dirt in her hair, wind-blown and wild.”

  LIT BY THE whiskey, Rager stood swaying, he pulled his shirt from his body, letting it fall to his feet.

  Rising up on my elbows, I watched him rid himself of his clothes. We were back at his house that night and on the air mattress.

  He left his shorts on, unbuttoned, and dropped to his knees, the mattress bouncing me around.

  I knew it was bad timing, but I had to say something.

  “Rager, do you want kids?”

  “I don’t know.” His lips found mine, kissing desperately, but then I drew back, waiting for his response. “Never thought much about it. Maybe someday. Not now though.”

  Well fuck. Now what? He doesn’t want kids? WHAT?

  “Right now…” He grinned, leaning in again. “I wouldn’t mind practicing on making one though.”

  The same feeling jolted me, consumed me, and owned me all at the same time. I forgot about what he said and gave into the moment.

  Rager had such control over me that I completely forgot why we needed to take this easy, and instead, with the seclusion this place provided, I gave in to what I wanted, what we wanted.

  “When I fell to my knees in front of you, I knew it wasn’t over for me.” His eyes closed, a smile ghosting over his lips. “It never could be. All those feelings were still th
ere regardless of the consequences. I didn’t give a shit, though. I still couldn’t stop. I told you, I’ll never stop. I will never love another woman. I can’t. I’ve tried so many times not to love you…I can’t.”

  Why is he saying this to me right now?

  Rager’s hand that was once holding his whiskey touched my hip, scooting me closer. His thumb pressed into the sliver of skin showing under my tank top. His hand moved and settled on the small of my back, dragging me toward him

  Reaching out, he caressed my hair, my cheek, and down the front of my neck and collarbone like he was making memories, holding them within. The look in his eyes, one of awe, seemed as though he was remembering the way I felt, the way we felt together.

  He paused again, wanting to ask something, yet hesitant to break up this moment.

  Almost begging he said, “I want to believe that what this is between us is real…”

  Why wouldn’t it be real?

  I shook my head. “It’s real.”

  It was the only truth I could admit.

  It’s so real that I’m pregnant. There’s a part of you inside of me, forever tying the two of us together.

  He pushed, I pulled. He gave, I took. He breathed, I inhaled, and everything we didn’t say, our bodies said.

  Our lips were frantic as always. Each movement seemed to ask an unspoken question of the past and present. He groaned, and I knew then that he wanted this just as much. Rolling me carefully, his body pressed me harder into the floor. I could feel his hardness right where I so desperately needed it.

  Wiggling slightly, I savored the feeling of having him this way, with no one else around. He groaned again, and another shiver ran through me.

  “Jesus, Arie,” he whispered, low and throaty, as his hips shifted, his cheek sliding against mine, the stubble scratching me. “No matter how many times I have you this way, it’s never enough.” His hips lurched forward, and he growled, rocking against me. The thin fabric of my panties allowed the friction to consume us both.

  “I know the feeling.”

  My mouth found every inch of exposed skin I could, wanting him to believe my words.

  When my body curved around his, welding to every straining muscle, words weren’t necessary. He knew how much I wanted him. My body wasn’t leaving any questions.

  Growling against my neck, his teeth sinking into my flesh, his grip on my waist tightening.

  His hand moved lower to slip inside my panties. Moving the fabric aside and my shirt up around my waist, his finger dipped inside my wet center. “Fuck.” he grunted, his head falling forward against my shoulder, his needy hips moving, his rigid breath bringing me back for a moment. “Don’t do this unless you mean it. Don’t keep stringing me along.”

  Why are you saying this to me?

  I knew it. He thought this was just a fling. A rebellious act of a woman who had just left her husband. Despite having sex for the last two weeks, and going away with him, he was referring to us rather than the sex. He wanted to know when I said I’d come with him, I was finally giving in.

  My I’m done.

  “I mean it,” I told him with no amount of regret at that moment. I squirmed under his rough touch and then hastily began removing any clothing I could get my shaking hands on—his and mine. I wanted to feel the weight of his body on mine.

  Rager hovered between my legs, leaning back on his heels, he unbuttoned his shorts and then his hands reached forward to hook his fingers in my panties, quickly dragging them down.

  Leaning forward again, his lips found my neck. “You sure?”

  “Yes.”

  I was sure at that moment I wanted nothing more than the man who owned my heart to claim me once again. My body clenched, every nerve ending on fire into a blistering ache.

  With harsh breaths, he entered me, a shudder moving through his body. His hold on me tightened, revealing his need.

  Grunts and moans mixed together as he pushed into me deeper. I clawed at his back, wanting more. I desperately clung to him, moving in sync with his every move.

  He held both my hands above my head against the mattress, waiting for me to say something.

  When I didn’t, he blinked slowly. “Just remember, your pussy has my name on it.” His words held so much possession. Not only in the way they were delivered, but in the way his stare fastened on mine.

  Over the days, throughout whatever this was between us, the sex amplified each time. He gave more of himself, just as I did. Now it seemed he was offering me everything, like a lap you give it your all in.

  Every single fucking thing he had, he gave me as if he was saying, “Here, have it all. I can’t take it anymore.”

  He didn’t have to say the words. I felt it with his touch. I felt it in the way he couldn’t catch his breath and the way he stared down at me, eyes lit with lust.

  Rager drew back, his hands beside my head supporting him, his hips erratic. He was barely holding on. His mouth moved from one naked spot to the next, all the while, grunting and pleading for more.

  When he knew I’d come, with the way my body went limp in his arms, his hands moved to my hips and then slid along my ass.

  “Oh God, fuck…I’m gonna come…” he moaned, guttural groans tearing from his chest, throwing his head forward against my shoulder.

  Turning my head, I put my mouth at his ear. “It’s so sexy when you come, baby.”

  I could feel everything right then. His breaths and his hardness between my legs and inside of me, it was like I was feeling and seeing every detail under a microscope. That was when I felt him harden and jerk forward.

  I was there, too, again. I couldn’t hold back anymore. His large hands were still on my hips as I continued to roll into him, needing anything he’d give me and everything he wouldn’t. My hands dug into the flesh in his back, feeling the strain of every defined muscle.

  My entire body was ablaze with a scorching, tingling sensation. Our bodies glowing like hot brakes with a desire that only two with a connection like we had could spark.

  And though he was taking so much right then, he was giving himself back.

  With his face inches from mine, he kept me there, feeling everything he was providing to me with his steady, burning gaze, gasping for each breath because he was feeling it too.

  I could feel him harden again, his body shaking, releasing into me. The muscles in his neck tensed as he bucked his hips, letting out a low strangled moan that sounded vaguely similar to my name. This connection that we had was so intense, that our bodies, as well as hearts and minds, joined together in that moment, I was sure of it.

  As we relaxed, the impact of the situation lingered like hovering smoke.

  Rager slid to my side, but never released me. I curled into him, tucking my head under his chin, breathing in the scent of his warm body. I wanted to tell him right then that I was pregnant, but the timing seemed off.

  A THUNDERSTORM HAD rolled in, two storms colliding. Two evenly matched fronts coming together, streaks of white electricity shackled to the sky, dancing over the horizon. Each crack echoed through the narrow valley his property was settled between, lined with oak trees to the south.

  Being here now, just as the sky turned from the darker shades of blue as the night gave way to the day, I wondered what his plans were for this place. Did he plan on raising a family here? Did he want to? Would he want me here with him?

  I had so many questions for him, but it almost seemed inappropriate to ask them right then, as if I’d be ruining the moment. Again, like fishing.

  From the deck, our legs dangling over treated dark wood, overgrown grass tickling the pads of my feet, as we faced the field behind his house.

  Just beyond that, the creek we’d spent the day at yesterday.

  The blanket around me, soft cotton touching overly sensitive skin, slipped off my shoulders. My body hurt to the point that I didn’t move to adjust the blanket. Every muscle had been pushed beyond comfort from sleeping on the air mattress.
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  Everything from the warm breeze kissing my skin, the light blue and gray clouds, and the man next to me relaxed me in ways I had no words to describe. A gentle sway of the trees, a bird chirping, sky growling, all reminders of why this place would forever hold a memory for me.

  Coasting his nose along my shoulder, his lips pressing lightly to the freckles that kissed my skin, his touch torched mine. I breathed out, long and slow, wanting to hide everything I was feeling.

  “I love you…” His lips brushed over my clammy skin as he spoke.

  I twisted my head around at the words, my breath caught in my throat, pulse pounding in my ears as a shock of nerves rushed through me.

  I’ve always loved you.

  He’d never said those words to me before. He’d said he was in love…but never uttered the words in that context, delivered in that way.

  “Rager—”

  “Shhh. Don’t say anything. Not yet.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because, whatever comes next, I don’t care.” His arms bound around my shoulders forced me to stay against his chest. “I didn’t say it because I wanted to hear you say it. I said it because I wanted you to hear it and to think about what it means. I don’t want to hear anything back because those words were meant for you to feel, not to reply to.”

  “I don’t want to let go,” he muttered into the breeze after a long pause, his lips pressing to my temple. His voice sounded so far away, so regret-filled that I hardly recognized it from the cool, collected boy I knew.

  “I hate that this isn’t easy.”

  In reality, Rager had no idea how much anxiety I had over this and how with every word we didn’t say, I felt like it was going to overwhelm me completely.

  “Nothing is ever easy when it comes to us,” he noted, feeling the warm breeze against my back. “This could be us forever.”

  “It will be us, forever.”

  A smiled played at his lips, and though it was a familiar sight, one I’d seen often these last two days, something seemed different about it. I wanted to say so much then, only anything I would say seemed inadequate to what I was really feeling.