For a moment, I let that thought settle. Maybe bravery wasn’t just about hurtling at breakneck speeds toward a finish line. Maybe it was also about slowing down long enough to consider an alternative path. One that didn’t sacrifice one dream for another but instead wove them together into something new.
Something wholly mine.
It was late when we made it back to the clubhouse, and all I wanted was a hot shower and a comfortable bed.
Saying good night, I headed upstairs.
Warmth bloomed in my chest as I secured the belt of my robe, the promise of soft sheets and sweet sleep chasing away the chill of the night. A blurry reflection stared back as I wiped away the condensation on the mirror, and tears welled in my eyes before I listlessly loosened my hair. My blonde waves felt heavy and lifeless, mirroring the dull ache in my chest.
No matter what I did, I couldn’t get Trip’s words out of my head.
Or the longing in his eyes, for that matter.
Standing before the mirror, I stared at my reflection. A heavy veil of gray seemed to have settled over my hazel eyes, dimming their usual sparkle, echoing the emptiness I felt inside.
I sighed and closed my eyes, my thoughts shifting to Trip. No matter how hard I tried to deny the truth, the fact was, I wanted him. I wanted him as badly as I wanted that damn checkered flag.
The absence of his strength and humor left a hollow ache in my chest, a heavy weight that dragged me down. I needed his determination, his resilience that I sometimes lacked. I needed his friendship, the snarky way he joked and played around, and made everything seem easier. His calm resolve when things didn’t go the way I wanted them to. Mainly, I needed his warmth, the way he smiled when he thought I wasn’t looking, the playfulness when he held me, the love I felt when he kissed me.
No matter how I looked at it, there was no way I could have both, and as much as it hurt to even think about it, I knew I was going to have to give up one of them, and I really didn’t want to.
Placing my hands on the sink, my mind warred with my heart.
One logical, the other completely emotional; yet every time I thought of Trip, my heart soared, overshadowing all logic andleaving me breathless. Just the mere thought of him had my body aching and my heart pining, erasing all doubts.
God, just the thought of him consumed me, as a sense of urgent longing washed over me and made me feel desperate for his presence. Staring into the hollow eyes reflected in the mirror, I slowly reached inside my robe as a silent tear traced a path down my cheek. I ached for the weight of his body, the solid pressure of his skin against mine, his grounded presence. He had a way of touching me that felt like he could read my mind.
A smile played on my lips as I ran my hand over my breast, delighting in the sensation of my nipple responding eagerly to my touch. Memories flooded back as the sensation of Trip’s lips lingered, and a bittersweet ache settled in my chest as I longed for his presence once more. A shuddering breath escaped me as I touched my raw, sensitive flesh. A stark reminder of what I would be missing.
I paused to unfasten my robe, letting it sweep silently from my shoulders. The blue fabric glided down my arms and caught at my elbows. I took a moment to drink in the view of my nude body and tried to imagine what Trip saw when he looked at me. I never considered myself one of those girls, like the pretty ones who had men falling at their feet. I knew I wasn’t a dog, but while most of my friends growing up preferred dresses and makeup, I was more of a jeans and T-shirt kind of girl. I rarely used makeup. I never wore a fucking dress unless my mother threatened to scalp me bald, and I couldn’t care less about all the latest fashions. Honestly, I was a tomboy through and through. Yet, the way Trip looked at me made me feel as if I were the most beautiful woman in the world. He had always shown appreciation for my body, but his enthusiasm for my curves—the way he was always touching me, as if he were memorizing every bend and curve like his hands mapped out a track he couldn’t wait to ride—set me ablaze.
A wave of loneliness washed over me as my hand lingered, tracing the contours of my body, each touch a painful reminder of what I would be missing if I chose differently. My fingers, clumsy and desperate, fumbled with my clit, as my body begged, pleaded with me to change my mind. Tears welled, blurring my vision as my fingers moved slowly, and a hollow ache spread through me.
That night at his house, when he told me everything, he didn’t just give himself to me; he gave me everything, his heart and his soul. And when he made love to me, it wasn’t hurried or rushed. He took his time and savored everything about me, about us. That night he showed me another side of him, the real him, and that haunted me.
My breath hitched as desperation for him clawed at my throat. My hand gripped my breast harshly, my touch rough and forceful, reflecting the inner turmoil I couldn’t contain. The mounting intensity of my pleasure pushed me to the edge of desperation. The need for release consumed every fiber of my being.
Then I felt him.
My eyes snapped open.
“Trip,” I breathed heavily as his arms slipped around my waist, then up to cup my breast.
“Let me, Slick,” he purred as he licked the side of my neck and pinched my nipples. His hands moved with a purpose, his touch both possessive and adoring. His lips found mine, his kiss deep and passionate, and I melted into him, my body responding to his with a familiarity that both excited and scared me. I knew I should pull away, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Not when his touch ignited a fire in me that I had never known before. Not when his kisses left me breathless and wanting more.
A moan escaped my lips as his hands moved lower, his fingers skillfully teasing and tormenting. My body arched intohis touch, my breath coming in sharp gasps as pleasure coiled tightly within me. I could feel the tension building, a delicious ache that begged for release. His mouth trailed down my neck, his breath hot against my skin as his hands continued their exploration, claiming me as his own.
With a final, shuddering touch, I cried out, my body surrendering to the pleasure that had been building. He held me tightly, his breath ragged as he whispered my name, his voice thick with desire.
I turned in his arms, my eyes searching his, and I saw the same longing and need that I felt. Then he grabbed my ass and lifted me from the floor, my robe bunching at my thighs as I wrapped my legs around his waist. His eyes held mine captive, and the intensity of his gaze sent a shiver down my spine. I felt exposed, my emotions laid bare, yet I couldn’t look away. His hands tightened on my body, his thumbs brushing my sensitive skin, and I shuddered, my body responding instinctually to his touch. I wanted to resist, to maintain some semblance of control, but my willpower evaporated in the heat of the moment. My hands found his shoulders, and my fingers curled into his skin as I leaned in and kissed him.
A rush of emotions swept over me as he deepened the kiss. I felt vulnerable, yet empowered. I knew I was giving in to my desires, but at that moment, I didn’t care. Trip’s touch ignited a fire within me that threatened to consume me, and I wanted to burn with him. I could feel his heart thundering against my chest, mirroring my own erratic pulse.
As our lips parted, I whispered his name, my breath hot against his skin. His eyes, dark with desire, searched mine, as if seeking permission or assurance. I offered him a small smile as my hands tangled in his hair and pulled him closer. In that moment, I knew I had made my choice, but it was a choice my heart had made long before.
His hands moved to my hips, his thumbs brushing the sensitive skin of my inner thighs. I felt a rush of desire as he placed me onto the counter, our eyes locked, communicating a thousand unspoken words. His touch was both gentle and demanding, sending shivers of anticipation through me. I knew what was coming, and my body craved it with an intensity that surprised me. His mouth found mine again, his kiss hungry and insistent. I tasted the salt of my tears on his lips, a poignant mix of sadness and desire. I ran my hands through his hair, holding him to me, unwilling to let go. My heart raced as his hands moved up my thighs, his fingers leaving a trail of fire in their wake.
I felt exposed, and vulnerable, and utterly his.
