Drive me Crazy, page 18
After three rounds, with me winning two to one, we’ve both finally had enough.
“We better get off the grid,” he says, pointing to a flood-light that has been triggered by our movement at the far end of the pit.
We roll the karts back toward the gap in the fence, then load them into the trailer before I reach into the back seat of the truck and pull out a beer.
“Wanna share one?” I ask, holding it out toward him.
“Up on the mound,” he says, nodding toward the grassy hill that rises above the track. We wander together, the sparkly fun of our race still invigorating me, sweat on my forehead, cheeks inevitably pink from the thrill. I take a seat on the dry grass and Matt drops heavily down next to me. I twist the top off the bottle and hand it to Matt, who takes a thirsty glug and hands it back.
“Nice to be home?” he asks me.
“Yeah. Grounding as ever,” I say, laughing. “My dad tells me he called your dad when you moved to Arden. They’re talking about throwing a joint party for us when we get back at the end of the year.”
“Oh god,” he says, laughing. “Please, no.”
“They’re good. But my dad talks to me about F1 as though I’m not a team principal, or if I am, do I really know what I’m doing?” I say, swigging back the beer. “I can take the misogyny, but it’s hard from your own dad.”
“He must be a little proud.”
“Oh, they are both so proud. I love them so much, don’t get me wrong. But Dad has enough secondhand impostor syndrome for the both of us,” I say, thinking back to his nervous face as he drilled me about all my decisions so far. Most of which I had to answer with “I don’t know yet,” because I genuinely don’t know yet. I need more time.
“Dads have more impact than they know,” Matt says, looking up at the full moon. “Sometimes it’s what they don’t say that you learn the biggest lessons from.”
I’m not sure what he is getting at exactly, but I have my suspicions. His dad is a closed book, and as a young girl I found his quiet judgment a little scary. But Matt doesn’t elaborate, and I don’t want to push him after the Stavros conversation in Mexico.
The breeze is cool against my bare forearms, and I’m pleased to have escaped the vast heat of Mexico. We can see the finish line. The end of the season is nearing, and still we have so much to achieve. So much to do to keep Arden alive and afloat. Ninth place is fantastic, but can it be sustained?
And at the end of the season, what will Matt and I be to each other?
“I’m sorry for coming at you after the race,” I say quietly.
He breathes a heavy sigh. “It’s okay. My mum just did the same.” His tone is even, maybe a bit amused at being ganged up on by two strong women in his life. “I’m sorry I snapped at you.”
I take a breath. “Don’t you think it’s the missing piece of the puzzle here, though?”
“Yep. Probably.”
I take another sip, wondering whether to push him as a team principal or as a friend. It feels like I’m not confident enough in either role to know what is best.
“But honestly, Chloe,” he says, dropping his eyes to the grass, his elbows resting on his knees. “Even if Stavros forgave me. Even if he told me it wasn’t my fault. I know it was. I did that. Years of overconfidence in the fastest car on the grid, and then a few months of frustration. I was reckless on the track that day.”
“All good drivers have those days,” I say reassuringly. “Verstappen, Sainz, even Hamilton.”
“I scared myself,” he says. “Do I know the difference between aggressive, determined driving and risk-taking? Like, for example, you know when you’re normie road driving, and you have the chance to overtake a tractor or a cyclist or something? You learn when to pull out, after years of experience. You know where the risk line is. Where it’s safe for you, but also safe for the person you’re overtaking. It used to be my greatest skill that I could push that line to the limit. It’s a driver’s greatest instinct, really. And now, I’m not sure I know where that line is. The line is blurred, and it’s killed my confidence.”
I feel a tug in my heart for Matt and let him know with a gentle hand on his arm.
“So yeah, I need to see Stavros. To let him know how sorry I am for putting him in that position. But I also need the confidence to not think I’m going to kill everyone I overtake.”
“Go and see him,” I say. “Promise me.”
He nods.
“It was one mistake, Matt.”
“I should never have made it,” he says, turning his head toward me.
“We all make mistakes,” I say, feeling the air shift around me as our eyes connect.
“Yeah, and I seem to keep on making them,” he says. “I’m so glad I can talk to you about this. I can’t talk to anyone about it. Not Stavros, not anyone.”
I search his face in the low light, looking for any hint of a double meaning behind his eyes. And then I curse myself for thinking about him, about us, in this moment. And yet, here we are. Back where we were over a decade ago, on this very hill, with Matt sharing his darkest thoughts and feelings with me, in a way he doesn’t do with anyone else. And here I am, listening, caring, and wanting to kiss all those sad thoughts away.
“Chloe?” he says, frowning as he takes in my expression.
“I was just thinking about how I want you to be happy,” I say truthfully. “But part of me is happy you’re sad because I get to be the person you share that with.”
Matt’s face is overcome. His expression softens into something hopeless. His eyes round. “I don’t want you to feel like that,” he says, reaching out a hand to touch my face, his fingers gentle on my cheek.
“Matt, I have to be honest with you about something,” I say, closing my hand over his, lifting it from my cheek, and squeezing it.
“Uh-oh,” he says, his hand stiffening in mine, before he pulls it back.
“Don’t worry,” I say in a voice so small, it’s almost a whisper. “It’s nothing bad. Not really . . .”
I take a deep breath, and turn to look out over the silvery, shimmering track. I’m not sure where Matt and I will lead, but I know if I don’t open up to him 100 percent like he has with me, if I don’t take the leap and bare it all, I’ll never know.
“When we were young, I had um . . . big feelings for you.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I can see him smile into the darkness. “Yeah. I kinda got that from our conversation after karaoke in the garage. I can’t tell you how sorry I am I didn’t realize sooner.”
“Thing is, Matt . . . after you left, I was in a bad place. I really liked you, maybe even loved you in that crazy firstlove sort of way. It’s scary to say, but it messed me up for years.”
He says nothing, but I see his head tip forward a little.
“You talk about the risk line with racing, how you instinctively know where that line is? Well, I never knew where the line was with you. I mistook every kindness, every conversation, every arm around my shoulders for more than it was.”
“That must have been confusing,” he says quietly.
“It was torture,” I say, laughing bitterly.
Matt starts to protest. “But my dad asked me—”
“I know. I get it now. I get why an eighteen-year-old fucking wunderkind didn’t have time for a girl from home . . . It makes sense you were doing it because you felt you had to.”
“That’s not the whole truth,” he counters. “It’s like I said before in Austin. I genuinely liked hanging out with you. We used to talk. Really talk to each other.”
“Matt” I say, sighing. “Just be real with me.”
He turns his head sharply. “Here’s what’s real. I adored spending time with you. You were fun, and smart, and damn, you understood racing like no one else. You meant a lot to me, more than I was willing to admit. You still do, but now I see how crazy I was to let you go all those years ago.
“I was an asshole,” he continues. “I ran out on everyone like a spoiled fucking kid.”
“I get that you had this break none of us had,” I interject.
“Sure, but I didn’t get what was important. Maybe it’s the crash, maybe I understand the stakes now,” he says. “Chloe. Listen to me. If you had feelings for me once, please don’t shut me out because of the past. Or work, or whatever it is you think is keeping us apart. We are adults. And now we have this chance to . . . explore this. No one is in the way.
There are no obligations, just what we want. And I know without a shadow of a doubt I want you. I want to make you happy, Bug. Just how you make me feel.”
I look at his pleading face and hear his urgent tone, and for the first time, I genuinely take in what Matt Warner is telling me. I feel the truth coming from him.
“No one is telling us not to, but you.”
My breath catches, and it takes everything, all my steel, to calm my nerves.
“I’m just saying,” he continues, his voice softening, “we can make this work. I know it.”
The silence thickens between us.
“I hear you,” I say quietly. “I really do hear you.”
He smiles softly, his eyes taking on a wicked glint as he leans a little closer, his thumb stroking my cheek. “You better.” His voice now has that gravelly edge.
My heart stops beating, and I’m pretty sure it’s never going to start again.
As if conspiring in the moment, a cloud passes over the moon, covering us in near darkness. “I don’t think you understand how I have no fucking control around you,” he says, his voice suddenly tight.
Before I have a chance to think of anything other than how much I want him inside me, he grabs me around the waist and rolls over, pulling me down so I’m on top of him. I pull back, straddling him. I bite my lip, stilling as I look down at him, unable to make much out in the dark.
“No one can know,” I say, unable to hide my amusement as I say it. I’m just repeating a mantra we both know has become a flimsy excuse. Like it’s made of dust, one breath and it’s gone into the wind.
“No one has to know,” he says, pulling on my arms, trying to get me to lie down on top of him.
“My god,” I say, breathless, leaning forward, my hair falling around him. And then he pulls my hips down into his, and he lifts his head up, trying to catch my mouth.
“I want to—”
But before he has a chance to finish, I take over his mouth and kiss him, messy and hard and needing. His mouth is warm and wet and there is nothing tentative about it. I am suddenly frantic for him, all of him, and I pull at his T-shirt, lifting it up over his head, and he maneuvers out of it. His chest is bare. The fan of hair across it is invisible in the dark to everything but my touch.
“So little discipline,” he teases, his fingers fumbling at my zip, but when he can’t get purchase on the heavy ring to pull it open, he spins me over so he’s on top. Once I’m pinned under him, he opens it with one fast motion, revealing my black lacy bra.
“Beautiful,” he says, as he fans his hand across my belly, his fingers like fire against my skin. He leans in and kisses me hard, first on the mouth, and then in short, hungry kisses down my neck, pulling my arms out of the sleeves of my jumpsuit as he goes. The cool air makes me yearn for his kisses everywhere. “Christ,” he says, as his fingers reach the lace of my bra and his palm moves down to cover my breast, moving in soft circular motions against my nipple.
“Mmm,” I moan into the night air, as Matt pulls at my bra, reaching around to unclasp it and then tossing it far away across the grass.
“So you can’t get it back in a hurry.”
“They’re going to find that next year. When the groundsmen prepare for the race.”
“Lucky groundsmen.”
I’m naked from the waist up, splayed out on the grassy, stony earth, which is rough against my bare back, but I don’t care. Matt looks down at my face and then my breasts, and closes his eyes as though trying to cool himself down.
“I don’t want to rush. But also . . .” He opens his eyes, and his mouth comes down on my nipple and I arch my back into him, the pleasure flushing between my legs. He’s expert. His hands are experienced, light, deft, and they know exactly where to move to match my desire. Just as I’m about to beg him to fuck me, he reaches down between my thighs and I help him by kicking off the legs of my jumpsuit and opening my legs for him. His hand moves quickly, and then he stops for a moment, staring deep into my eyes.
“I want to feel you come,” he says, as his fingers move aside the lace of my underpants. His finger dipping in between my lips, stroking my clit. “You’re so wet, Chloe. Always so wet for me.”
The words send me, and my eyes roll back in my head as he rubs his finger up and down and around in expert circles.
I make all sorts of deeply unholy noises as he dips his finger inside me, and then buries his head in the crook of my neck, groaning as he moves his finger slowly in and out. I can feel myself stiffening against his finger, my body at war with itself, wet and slick and yet unable to fully open for him. It’s nerves. After all this time. Am I enough? Will I be enough?
“So perfect,” he says, sensing my feelings immediately. “So. Fucking. Perfect.”
I clench around his finger, and he lifts his head, a look of devilish approval as he starts kissing my jaw and making his way to my mouth. My back arches as the waves of pleasure start to build, and all I can think about is how much I want him inside me. All of him.
I groan into his mouth, pushing myself against his finger as it slides in and up to my clit and then back inside me again. The pleasure is not enough. It’s not enough. And yet . . . it’s too much to take. My desire is pooling in my belly, and I’m starting to stiffen and then writhe against him.
“Yes, Chloe,” he growls approvingly, as he moves so he can kiss my neck, just at the edge of my ear.
If it isn’t his tongue against that spot behind my ear that finally sends me, it’s Matt saying my name. Chloe. I clasp his wrist and let out a final moan as everything fades into darkness and I explode against him in wild contractions. Matt is moaning too, and although his hand slows against me, he doesn’t stop as wave after wave shudders through me. It feels too good. Too good.
“Delicious,” Matt says, kissing my cheeks, my eyelids, my nose.
I want more.
As I slowly regain my senses, I’m still ravenous for him.
“Now you,” I murmur, as my eyes open and his silhouette appears above me, the moon moving from behind that cloud, and we are flooded with silvery light once again. Matt is relentless. His fingers don’t stop moving inside me, even as the sensitivity makes me flinch endlessly. He looks down between our naked bodies, and then removes his hand from between my legs long enough to pull my panties off.
“I want you to do that while I’m inside you,” he says, kicking off his Gucci tracksuit pants into the dirt. I can just see how hard he is. I reach down for him, but the way he’s lying puts him just out of reach.
“Are you on birth control?” he asks, not a speck of awkwardness in his voice.
“IUD. We’re covered, don’t worry. Though I’m a little rusty,” I say, instead moving my hand up to his chest as he climbs between my legs, forcing one thigh up slightly to make room.
Matt grins. “You didn’t feel rusty to me.”
“Filthy,” I reply, smiling at him.
“Anyway, don’t worry about it. I’m not rusty,” he says, and I roll my eyes, slapping him gently on the chest.
“You’re so arrogant,” I say, and he laughs into my neck.
I feel his cock now, hard against my thigh, and I take a moment to feel his naked body with my fingers, his arms flexed as he holds himself up.
“I’ve been thinking about this for weeks,” he says, nudging himself between my thighs. He’s slowing. Making sure I’m present. I want to say that I’ve been thinking about this for years, but instead I say, “Did you also bring a banana?”
Matt laughs. “God, you need to be fucked,” he says. He pushes in and I cry out with the sudden fullness of it.
“Too much?” he says, kissing my top lip.
“You wish,” I say, grinning back at him, moving my legs slightly to accommodate all of him. He moves slowly, once, and then he leans forward and whispers into my ear.
“You feel incredible.”
It is all I can take. I start to fall backward into the abyss as Matt moves inside me and I surrender completely to the moment. He seems to want to move slowly but loses the fight with himself, speeding quickly up. “Matt,” I say, almost in disbelief at all of it.
All too soon, he’s moaning my name back to me, into my ear, holding me close to him as he comes. He stays inside me for a while, and we lie perfectly still, our skin slick with sweat, my thighs wet. I run my hand down his broad dewy back and across his backside and we both catch our breath in the darkness. “Gorgeous,” Matt whispers, as he rolls off, runs his hand between my legs and then up my stomach, covering my body in our sex. It feels utterly erotic, and a little possessive. As if I hadn’t dreamed of being possessed by him.
When I start to become aware of our surroundings again, I see the glow of a red light on his cheek and then a blue light. For a moment I can’t work out where the color is coming from, but then I prop myself up on my elbows and spot the police car at the other side of the pit lane.
“Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit!” I whisper loudly, shoving Matt out of his sleepy daze. “We gotta run, Matt.”
He sits bolt upright. “Fuck. We cannot get caught, Chloe.”
“My god, the press,” I say, giggling as I spring to life.
The two of us tug our clothes on as fast as we can, pants and T-shirts flying as we sort through our discarded pile and then sprint through the fence toward our cars. We’re falling on the grass, tripping as we run, and laughing so hard tears stream down my face. As we hear the bang of the main gates being opened, Matt gently helps me through the fence.
“Go,” he says, kissing me through the fence quickly. “You have the go-karts.”
I don’t wait to argue. I jump in Dad’s truck and, driving with the lights off, speed away in the opposite direction from the police car and down the road back toward Brackley. When I get onto the main road, I turn on the lights, and my mouth breaks into a wide and wild grin. I feel like a teenager again. Like a wild and reckless teenager, only this time, I got the guy. My guy. And he had me. And it was perfect.
