Chapter Sixteen
T he car lurches forward as soon as the guy whips down the flag and I’m thrown back into my seat, my heart jumping into my throat as fear works through me.
I want to scream but it seems to be stuck and all I can do is watch as the world blurs around me, the car only gaining more speed every second. River throws the car through the gears, his hand wrapped around the wheel as he steers us around the first corner, only slowing a touch to get us through the bend safely.
He’s focused and determined and a quick glance in the mirror shows the other three cars in the race are at least three car lengths behind.
He takes another bend which throws my body toward him, my arm touching his and before I can right myself, his hand is on my thigh. He squeezes it gently before moving back to the stick, and I don’t know why but that touch, the slight caress eases the fear in me. My heart is still going a mile a minute but the terror I felt when he first pulled away has now been replaced by this bubbling excitement.
A laugh escapes me as he gains even more speed down a straight lane, the engine roaring with it. He turns to me, but I can’t see his face behind the dark visor of his helmet and it’s only for a second before he’s focusing back on the track, slowing to take the last bend before we cross the line to start another lap.
“Do it again,” I hear him say but when I turn to look at him, not understanding, he’s still facing the road.
“What?” I yell because I can barely hear myself think let alone talk.
“Laugh,” His throat bobs with a swallow, “Laugh again.”
My brows pull low in a frown, but I don’t get a chance to respond when he curses loudly, and a car overtakes him, cutting in front of us just before a corner.
“Shit,” He growls, “Hold on, princess.”
I reach for the handle above my head, eyes going wide as he pushes the car impossibly faster, trailing close to the now leading car and when we get round to the long straight, River wastes no time. He gets so close it seems as if the bumper is touching before he swerves the car to the left and overtakes him, the wheels skidding at the last corner.
River rights the car and we cross the line, the flag waving to show the race is over but River keeps the car moving.
“Where are we going?” I ask as he slows the vehicle and takes a dirt track I didn’t see before at the first corner. He doesn’t answer me, just keeps driving, trees swallowing us as we keep moving over the dirt road. Gravel crunches under the tires and branches snap, darkness swallowing us. The lights cut through it ahead, but I’m surrounded by such darkness outside the window, I can’t see much beyond the first line of trees. He takes the car around a corner and an opening ahead catches my eye before he pulls us to a stop.
We’re on the brow of a hill, the forest behind us and ahead is the view of the town. Lights twinkle below and from this high you can’t tell which part of the town is which unless you really look. On the south side the lights are a little dimmer, a little more sparce and even from here, I can tell which property belongs to my father. It’s the brightest and biggest one.
It’s beautiful, nonetheless.
I reach for my helmet and pull it off my head, swiping at the tendrils of hair that fall across my face before I reach for the handle and climb from the car.
The night air is warm and behind me, I can still hear the distant sounds of the party now raging back at the track, but along with it are the sounds of owls and other creatures moving through the woods around me.
I can’t tear my eyes away from the view, even when I hear River climb from the car behind me, the thud of the door closing echoing through the trees. His shoes crunch over the dirt before he comes to a stop about a foot away from me.
“It’s beautiful up here,” I whisper, too afraid my voice will disturb the peace. “I didn’t know you could see the town like this.”
“We have all the best views this side of town,” River says.
I look at him over my shoulder, “Clearly,” I agree. He’s not wrong, on the other side it’s all entirely flat, you can’t get high enough to see this on that side. Just like all the trees are gone and the parks are man-made. I never noticed it until now. It’s all so clean, so built up and pristine.
“Congratulations on winning the race,” I turn my back to the view and then step toward a set of boulders, perching on the tallest one.
“I got distracted,” He mumbles, “Almost lost it.”
I stay quiet, so quiet in fact I wonder if he can hear my heart pounding inside my chest. I hear his feet scuff in the dirt, moving away from me to the car, but he’s back a moment later.
“Come sit with me,” He asks quietly and when I turn, I see he’s laid a blanket down and is sitting in the middle of it, legs spread out before him as he leans back on the heels of his palms.
Climbing from the rock, I cross over to him, moving to sit beside him but then he sits up, his warm palm sliding around the back of my knee to stop me from sitting and pulls me further onto the blanket. I step between his legs, and he leans back again, looking up at me. The light from the moon casts shadows across his face, highlighting his sharp cheekbones and deepening the hollows beneath them.
“Here?” I squeak.
“Where else, princess?” He grins, showing teeth, the smile playful and light.
I hesitate but ultimately lower myself down, sitting between his parted thighs.
“Now lean back,” He orders softly.
“On you!?”
“That’s right,” He watches my face, waiting for me to either do as he says or bolt. My palms are sweating, I’ve kissed guys before sure, but I’ve never gone further than that, which truly is pathetic. And even if I’ve kissed another guy, we never really got close, no hugging or touching. I spin on the blanket and scoot back a little before I lean, and my spine hits his chest far harder than I intended. He lets out a grunt and I go to shoot up again, but he bands an arm around my middle, holding me in place.
His breath fans at the shell of my ear, his scent invading my nose but then his fingers begin to draw tight circles on the slither of skin on show at my abdomen and my skin pebbles under the touch.
“Relax, Marly,” He whispers, “Let it happen.”
“Nothing is happening,” I breathe.
“No?” I hear the lilt of amusement in his tone, “So your body doesn’t react to me?”
My breath shudders out of me.
“Your heart doesn’t pound just a little bit harder when you’re with me?” He keeps going, his fingers slipping under the hem of my shirt, only going an inch up my ribcage but it’s enough for heat to start unfurling through my body, first in my lower stomach and then down my thighs. An intense kind of need makes an ache form between my thighs and when his breath whispers against the side of my neck I feel myself clench and my nipples tighten. “Are you trying to tell me that right now, your body is calm? That you are calm?”
“River,” I warn him though my voice trembles.
He shifts behind me and something hard presses into my spine, “It’s okay, princess, because I feel it too. You feel that?”
I stop breathing all together. I may be inexperienced, but I know what that is.
“That’s me reacting to you,” He rasps.
The sudden and intense need to kiss him consumes me, I want to taste his lips, let his mouth devour me. We are two entirely different people, from opposite ends of the world. He broke someone’s arm for Christ’s sake, but god, to be consumed by a man like him…
But if my family finds out, they’ll ruin him.
It won’t be me who suffers for it, though I’m sure they’ll find some creative way to punish me but him, he’ll be buried and no amount of money will be spared to do so.
It’s what happens when you have a family whose only goal for your life is to remain pure so you can be used as a bargaining chip for whatever business deal they deem worthy.
I push away from him, ignoring the feelings he’s stirred up inside of me and stand, wrapping my arms around myself.
“I think we need to go back,” I stare toward the view and not at him. I’m not strong, I’m not powerful, I’m just Marly Winchester and I think if I look at him, I’ll break.
“Okay,” He replies. I step off the blanket and keep my eyes averted, not wanting to see his expression. Is it anger? Disappointment? Regret for even trying?
When I hear him moving back to the car, I follow, him stopping to open the passenger door for me.
“I’m sorry,” I tell him, finally lifting my eyes to his face.
His expression is purposely blank, but his dark eyes move over my face and then they drop to my lips, “Don’t ever apologize for telling a person no, Marly. No doesn’t require an explanation or an apology.”