“I would imagine,” she said. The concern in her voice was evident. “What’s the simplest trick? The easiest, safest one? The one where you keep a firm hold on the bike at all times?” Her nervous question was kind of cute.
“Well none of them are particularly safe,” I told her with a laugh. “There’s a risk just jumping the bike, let alone tossing it and your body in different directions mid-flight.”
“Oh.”
“It’s not like we’re out there with no protection.” I tried to ease her mind. “I spend hours training and we wear neck support and helmets. It’s not like it used to be. There are many more precautions now.”
She nodded and I could see her wheels turning as she thought about everything I was saying. “What trick is your favorite?” she finally asked. Her interest in my field of work had me feeling a bit like I was being interrogated. She had a serious expression that was only occasionally peppered with a smile. Even my usual charm and smart-ass responses weren’t enough to get her to relax.
“Backflip, maybe?” I answered. I hadn’t ever really thought about that. “During a competition, it’s whatever trick will score me the highest points,” I explained. “Each run you have to try and out do your opponents…and yourself.”
“I don’t know how you do it,” she said, shaking her head. “Makes me nervous just thinking about it.”
“You’ll have to come watch when I get back to it.”
“I don’t know about that.” Her answer wasn’t what I was expecting. “I nearly had an anxiety attack when Reid and Beau were racing out back.” She shook her head. I remembered that little backyard race too. I have to admit, that one made me nervous. Watching my buddy and his arch nemesis battle it out on the track was nerve wracking. “I’m not sure if watching motocross is my speed.”
“I kind of need it to be your speed,” I reasoned, realizing immediately that I was imagining a future with her that we hadn’t quite agreed on. She didn’t protest, so I went with it. If the casual relationship we were in now ever led to more, I needed her on board with my career choice. Besides that, motocross is awesome. “I mean, I’d like for you to come at least once. I’ll ease you into it, I promise.”
“You’re sure you want to ride again?”
Was she serious right now?
“I am riding again, Georgia,” I said, letting my usual smile fade. There were only a few things I wasn’t light and airy about. Riding was one of them. “I have to ride again. It’s my job. Hell, it’s my life.”
“But what about your knee? What if you—”
“Doesn’t matter.” I stopped her from asking what I’d been thinking about since my surgery. What if I get hurt again? It wasn’t a matter of if, it was a matter of when. My knee wasn’t my first or my last injury. I knew that, and I think deep down she knew it too. “Getting hurt comes with the territory. Occupational hazard.” I held up my arm and pointed out a scar running down the side of my wrist. “Broken wrist. One plate, six screws. I was fourteen.” Her eyes examined the puckered skin as she ran her fingertips over it. “I’ve broken ribs, separated my shoulder, and,” I pulled the collar of my shirt down, “broken my collarbone twice.” She stared at me almost disbelieving. I grabbed her hand and placed it on the permanent bump on my clavicle where the bone hadn’t quite healed straight. She was going to be a nurse, surely she could tell that it wasn’t supposed to feel that way. “I can’t count how many concussions I’ve had. Or bruises. Or sprains.”
“Why would you keep going back to something that keeps hurting you?” She rose up on her knees and scooted toward me. Her bottom lip glistened from biting at it as I explained all of my injuries.
“Because I don’t know how to do anything else,” I stated simply, taking her hand from my shoulder and placing a kiss on the palm of her hand. “And because I love it.” Her eyes fell shut as she tried to understand what I was telling her. I wanted her to understand. My entire life I’d been mud and rubber and gas, trying to be poetic and sweet was never really my thing. “Why do you want to be a nurse?”
“I like helping people,” she said, opening her eyes, which were clouded with confusion. “I like to make them feel better. What does that have to do with you risking your life for no reason?”
“So do I,” I replied. “One epic jump on my bike and I can make thousands of people feel better. They’re excited and thrilled and probably a little bit scared, but when you land a big jump and they scream and clap, it makes it all worth it. They’ve been entertained. They’ve been inspired to try something that scares them.”
“I’m trying to understand,” she said. “I really am.”
“One event. You have to come to one event and see for yourself.” I knew that if she could just feel the charge of a packed stadium she would understand. She would see what it was like.
“Hmm. Maybe I could squeeze in one event,” she promised. I felt my smile return and took the opportunity of her being so near and pressed my lips to hers. I felt closer to her, and not just physically. No one had ever asked me why I do what I do. I think most people let my work speak for itself, or they assumed I was in it for the fame. For the money. For the women. It was more than that and I think Georgia knew that. She wanted to understand me. To know me, which is more than I could say for most people.
Reid and Hoyt might have been the only other two people on the planet that really got me. They loved the sport as much as I did, and knew what it was like to be called to the track. Riding was like a religion to us. Most people didn’t get it, but we did.
Even my parents, God bless them, who gave me everything I could ever ask for as a kid. They bought me my first bike when I was eight, paid thousands of dollars to let me race season after season, they even got me in with a great trainer when I was thirteen, but they never really got why I wanted to be a motocross rider. I think they thought it was a hobby at first, and then the sponsors and money started to come in, and it became a business. It was more than that for me though. It was a purpose. Strange as it may sound, I was made to make a dirt bike soar. I was made to manipulate metal and my body in ways that people only dreamed about being able to do.
Georgia would see that. I would make sure of it.
I deepened my kiss, sweeping my tongue between her pouty lips and finding hers. I was met with a soft moan and her arms wrapping around my neck. I turned my body to hers and pulled her against me. The soft curves of her tits pressed against my chest and I felt her suck in a breath, sending my pulse racing.
I tried to slow myself down, but the heat of her body against mine and the taste of her on the tip of my tongue was overpowering. When she bit down on my bottom lip, I couldn’t contain myself any longer. I guided my body down on hers as she let herself fall back on the couch. Greedily, I let my hands roam over her body and her quiet moans continued to fuel my desire. My fingertips found their way underneath the sweater she was wearing, gently trailing up her smooth, flat stomach, along the curves of her waist until I found her breasts. Those sweet, perfect tits that I had fantasized about. My lips moved to her jawline as I tugged down the cup of her bra and rolled her nipple between my finger and thumb. I hesitated wanting to see her reaction.
“Don’t stop,” she said between labored breaths as I nipped and licked my way down her neck. I had no plans of stopping. I had plans to elicit every possible response from her flesh. I wanted to put my mouth on her body. All of it. From top to bottom and every place in between. I wanted her to continue to unwind beneath me.
My cock was as stiff as it had been in maybe its entire life. I had a beautiful woman writhing beneath me and inviting me to have my way with her. A beautiful woman that I’d wanted since the moment I laid eyes on her months ago. I tried to shift my weight and relieve some of the pressure I knew we were both feeling, but instead of the smooth move I was imagining in my head, I was met with pain.