Strapped (16 page)

Chapter Fifteen

I open my eyes feeling perfectly rested for the first time in weeks. Taylor is not in bed.
Does he ever sleep in?
My hair is a mess and again I am wearing his button down shirt. I love wearing his clothes, having a piece of him with me in his absence. He is in the kitchen putting the finishing touches on a big breakfast of eggs, bacon, pancakes, and fruit. It reminds me of our first lunch together on the day he taught me how to drive Ladybug.

“Good morning, sleepyhead.”

“We have to discuss your sleeping habits. They make me feel like a lazy bum. I can’t believe you did all of this while I slept. Irma didn’t make breakfast?”

“Nope. I usually just order breakfast in on the weekends, but I thought I would surprise you with a classic spread. Especially after seeing your fridge yesterday, it was pitiful. No wonder you looked so pale and hungry.”

“Well sorry, I was kind of in a love-induced depress...” Oh fuck. Did I just use that word? On our second night together? He darts his eyes to the pan of scrambled eggs and plates them. He is going to let that one slide. I could just punch myself in the face.

I pick at my food. It’s delicious but my nerves are rattling a bit fearing that I may have come on too strong with the L-word.

“So I got to thinking, and I have some fun plans for us today.” What is today? I have lost track of the days of the week.
Whatever, I don’t have a job anyway!

“Where are we going?” I love surprises.

“You’ll see. You said you wanted to learn more about me, so I figure this is something I can show you.”

I get dressed in a pair of jeans and a soft T-shirt per Taylor’s instructions and wait out in the great room while Taylor changes. Harrison walks by.

“Harrison!”

“Ms. Ball, so nice to see you.”

“Please, call me Shyla.” He must have an idea about Taylor and me. “How are you?”

“I am doing very well. It is good to see you.” Taylor walks out in a fresh pair of jeans and a black T-shirt; his eyes pop against the darkness of it. He looks so young and light on his feet, like a burden has been lifted off of him.

“Ready Shy?”

“Shall I drive you?” Harrison asks.

“No thanks, I think we are going to take the Spider.”

We head down in the elevator. I give him a shy glance and he smiles that coy, crooked smile of his.

“Come over here!” He pulls me up to him and passionately kisses me. It sets me on fire. He stops and looks down at his watch.

“Damn. We are running behind. We’ve got to go. I’ll take a raincheck.” He slaps me on the rear. He is so playful today and I love it. We walk past several cars and come to a black, low, sleek convertible Ferrari. It reminds me of a bullet. This must be the Spider. We hop in quickly. I admire Taylor’s expert handling of the car. He shifts without even thinking, or at least looks like he’s not. Whenever we stop at an intersection, people gawk and stare. He is the person anyone would love to envy: young and gorgeous in an expensive convertible. I wonder if the people are silently judging me. Maybe they think I am a gold digger, or that I am not beautiful enough for him. Those ever present thoughts are the only things keeping me from being completely relaxed around him. When we hit the freeway we fly; my hair whips around and I laugh and holler, trying my best to hold it down. Taylor laughs at my childish joy. I try to get clues about our destination from Taylor, but he blasts the music to drown out my interrogations, shaking his head “no.”

Eventually, we exit the freeway and the car slows so that the wind is not as powerful. Taylor looks over at me. “Wow,” he says and begins to snicker. Oh no, is my hair that bad? I frantically try to flatten it with my hands. “I forgot to give you one of these.” He pulls out a hat from the glove compartment. I try to wrangle it over my now enormous hair. “Don’t worry, you look great. Don’t forget, the day I first met you, your hair kind of looked like this.” He gently tugs on one of my tendrils. I remember that day, I wrangled my hair into a hat much like I am trying to do with this cap.

“Did you think I was the biggest idiot ever when I spilled the coffee all over you? Be honest.”

“No, not at all. I swear. Do you want to know what I thought?”

“Of course! I just asked, didn’t I?”

“Well, okay, smart ass. I had just gotten off the phone. I think it was with Marsha.” I remember that. “I went to order some coffee and out of the corner of my eye I saw this petite, cute girl in this red leather jacket. Something about you intrigued me. You weren’t facing me, so I couldn’t quite make out your face, but I noticed your tight little butt.” I gently shove his shoulder as I blush. I was certain that he didn’t notice I was alive until I threw hot coffee all over him. “I was curious to see your face, so when I saw you turning, I slowed down a bit to catch a glimpse, which proved to be a near fatal mistake.”

“So you caused the bump!” I exclaim pointing at him emphatically.

“Umm, no. I do recall your Herculean grip causing the coffee cup to explode on me. Then you looked up, and your face...nevermind.”

“Oh no you don’t. Tell me! Here, I’ll tell you: I heard you bossing Marsha around, and I thought you smelled so nice. When I finally got a glimpse of you, I thought you were so incredibly gorgeous. I didn’t even consider you were thinking anything remotely similar about me. So please, indulge me.”

“Shy, it wasn’t just looks. I saw your face and I was immediately hit with a sense of warmth and familiarity. You’re beautiful, so beautiful, but many people are beautiful. I just felt like I had known you forever.”

“Is that why I can touch you?”

“I don’t know. I wish I could tell you why. My psyche is all fucked up. It would take years of therapy to scratch the surface.”

“So why don’t you go?”

“To therapy? You may have noticed I don’t like to talk about certain topics. I have tried a little, but I just can’t. I’d rather just cope. No thanks.”

“Well, I hope at least that one day, you can talk to me about it.”

“So do I.” I am so engrossed in our conversation that I have stopped paying attention to my surroundings. Suddenly, we are pulling in front of a somewhat industrial looking building in the middle of a huge stretch of barren road. I hear the roar of what sounds like engines. I look around for clues to confirm my hunch. My eyes catch a sign that reads: Motor Valley Speedway.

“Come on Shy,” he gestures to me to get out of the car. We walk into the building.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Holden!” A middle-aged man with a well groomed beard greets us. “This must be your girlfriend.” He sticks his hand out for a shake.
Am I his girlfriend?
I am all his, that’s for sure. Taylor neither confirms nor denies the inquiry. He introduces me to Mr. Tompkins and then they discuss some car gibberish.

“I see you brought the Spider. You’re going to use the GT right? I have her ready to go for you.”

“Yeah, I wanted to take Shy around in the GT.” They might as well be speaking in another language. “Let’s suit you up.” Taylor grabs my hand and leads the way. I love when he takes my hand.

“So I think the cat is out of the bag. Are you taking me racing?”

“Yeah Shy, this is one of my hobbies.”

“I should have figured with all of those cars you have.”

“I think you’ll have a lot of fun. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do.”

“You’re good at this right? I’m a little too young to die.”

“I’ve dabbled.” He is so deadpan it’s hard to tell if he’s being sarcastic or not. He takes me to a small locker room where he pulls out his gear. He points to more gear on a bench. “I believe that’s for you.” There is a helmet, a blue and white jacket and pant suit.

“What if someone comes in?”

“No one will, the entire place is ours for the next two hours.” It must be nice to be rich enough to rent a racetrack on a whim.

“I’m ready!” I exclaim in my little blue and white racing suit.

“You look adorable,” he says, flicking me on the nose as he escorts me out. I may look adorable, but he looks like the hottest race car driver ever. I imagine if he decided to take this up as anything more than a hobby, he would be splashed all over magazines. The media loves a gorgeous athlete.

We walk out the back side of the building and I see a low-slung, extremely fast-looking car. I don’t know anything about cars, but this thing looks just like the ones I have seen on TV, covered in a collection of patterns and logos. Taylor directs me into the car first and straps me in tightly. He tells me I will need a headset and helmet since the car will get very loud at top speeds. He hops into the driver’s seat.

“Let me know if you want to slow down at any time, okay?” I nod, nervous and excited. He gives Mr. Tompkins a thumbs up and we dart out into the race track.

“We’re just going to warm up a bit these first few laps okay?” His voice buzzes through the headset. This feels pretty fast for a warmup. I admire him as he skillfully shifts the gears and negotiates turns.

“How fast are we going?”

“Eighties. Ready to pick it up?”

“Yeah!” My stomach is twisting and turning as the car rumbles and roars with power. My nerves kick in as we turn the corners, which come toward us so quickly that I swear we are going to slam into the walls. My heart sinks into my stomach, but I love the thrill, the feeling of danger. Taylor doesn’t say a word once we hit top speeds and I try not to break his focus. After a few laps he breaks the silence. “You okay over there?”

“Yes.” I say. I am not sure I am inspiring confidence as I feel him slow down, still going very fast, but not race car fast. “You sure?”

“No, no...this is really fun, it’s exhilarating, but also scary. Like a roller coaster!” He slows down a bit more, to a comfortable pace. “Want to drive around the track?”

“Ummm...can I?” I sit as upright as my harness will allow. “I just learned how to drive stick...”

“Well, just go at your own pace. Just riding around is fun with the Spider. You will feel how responsive she is. I beg you, please do not crash her, you’ll give me a coronary if you put a scratch on her.”

“I promise, I won’t do anything crazy.” He pulls over the GT and hops out. “Stay here, I’ll be right back,” he says poking his head in the driver side window. I see him talking to Mr. Tompkins. They both disappear for a few minutes and then I see the Spider pulling into the race track. Taylor pops out of it and signals to me to come over. I hastily unbuckle myself and run over to the black car. I see Mr. Tompkins hop into the GT and drive it out of sight.

“Why are we switching cars anyway?” I ask as I adjust the seating and mirrors to my preference.

“Well, this car will be a little easier for you to handle I think. Plus, it’s doesn’t cost as much. The GT is an actual race car that has been used in professional races. This is an amazing car, and if you fuck it up, I will cry, but not as hard as with the GT.”

“Well, thanks for the vote of confidence.” I wink at him.

“I’m letting you drive aren’t I?” He takes a deep breath. “Ok, let’s go, please keep it around thirty to forty miles while you get a feel for the track.”

“How fast can I go?”

“We’ll see, but let’s keep it at seventy to eighty. For my heart health.” He winks at me with those blue-green eyes. “Alright, let’s go!” I pull out onto the track and as soon as I shift out of first gear, I can feel how responsive the shifting is; it’s as if the clutch is telling my foot when to release. Ladybug handles nicely, but this thing is a beast. Very little pressure is needed to accelerate quickly. I look over at Taylor for his approval.

“Shy, eyes on the track please.” I make a lap or two between thirty and forty miles per hour. “Can I go faster?” I beg.

“Ok, but please be careful. It would be really tragic if you killed us both.” I try to punch his shoulder with my right hand.

“Shyla! Hands on the steering wheel!”

“Okay, okay!” I press down on the accelerator, and feel the roar of the engine. As the car speeds up, my focus heightens. I press down on the clutch, shift up, and hit the gas. It feels powerful and exhilarating, handling this huge piece of equipment.

“Okay, Shy, let’s stay with this speed for today. Four more laps.” His voice seems distant as I speed through the track. Once I complete the final lap and pull the car off the course, I turn to Taylor.

“How did I do?”

“Not bad for a beginner. My clutch seems to have survived, as well as the two of us. If you wanted to do this more often, I could get you lessons so you can learn more.” I would love to learn more, but I don’t want him to pay for lessons, and if I say I am interested, I know he will, so I save the subject for a later date. I step out of the Spider and pull off my helmet. I look over the car, to see Taylor staring at me, with a smirk across his face.

“You look so hot right now. You belong in one of those car mags. Come on, Chase will take care of the car.” That must be Mr. Tompkins’ first name. Taylor grabs my hand and pulls me back into the small locker room. He looks at his watch and locks the door behind him. I stare at him inquisitively, wondering what’s next. He signals to me with his finger to walk over. I walk towards him hesitantly. I want him so badly, yet the fire in his eyes almost makes me fear I may get burned. Once I am close enough he pulls me towards him so quickly that I fall on to him. He pulls on my hair, tilting my head back and exposing my neck, kissing, sucking. Immediately down below I feel a pulsing electricity. I want him inside of me so badly. He pulls off my jacket and then my pants. It’s baffling how someone so gentle can become so crazed. He rips off his jacket and pulls his T-shirt overhead. I take him in, his ripped abs flexing and relaxing with each breath. He comes at me like a creature pouncing on his prey. Taylor is eerily quiet, but I can hear his heavy breathing in the silence of the room. He grabs me by my bottom and picks me up, his strength making me feel weightless. He seats me on top of a row of sinks, unclips my bra and begins to suck on my breasts. I moan, trying hard not to be too loud, but the pleasure is unbearable. He sucks hard on my neck and whispers in my ear. “I want to fuck you hard. Can I do that Shy?” His words are so intoxicating. He asks me as though I have a choice, but in that moment he could ask me anything and I would say yes. He picks me off the counter putting me on my feet and twisting me away from him in one quick motion. I hear his pants unzip and I feel his hardness against my backside. He whispers in my ear “Shy, are you on birth control?” I nod yes. “I want you raw.” I think about the book. Are those all of his partners? Being his assistant has made me privy to the fact that he is almost obsessive about his health and I even know he just had a physical. I just want him, so that’s good enough for me.

“Okay.”