Commitment Collection Read online

  I count in my head, calming my shot nerves to slow my breathing. It’s OK, he’ll leave me alone now. Testing is over and I can concentrate on the calm which descends on me when adjusting nuts and bolts.

  But no.

  Elliott Judd takes that space in the corner.

  And there he sits.

  And sits.

  Running through his figures. Or so he says.

  I feel his eyes on me as I work under the car. When I pop out, I try to avoid eye contact, but damn, it just happens. It’s like my body has a mind of its own. I tell it no, and still I look. He’s fucking gorgeous though, sitting with one firm leg crossed at a right angle to his opposite knee, a variety of computer screens on his lap. And that bloody fire suit tied around his slim waist, teasing me with only the minimum amount of fat covering his lithe muscles.

  He’s the opposite to me. Where I’m bulky by nature, strong with big hands and muscles to match, he’s graceful and slender. I lift weights in the gym because I need to be strong to throw around the machines we use with speed. He has a different purpose though. To be flexible and fast, small and toned, Elliott is all about explosive power. I can’t help it. My mind wanders to images of the devastation that explosive power could create and I let out a sigh.

  “You OK, Kyle?”

  With my head under the car it’s impossible to tell who asked. “Yeah, thanks. Just a problem with a tight nut.”

  I had my hands on that charged flesh only a few hours earlier. I want to deny it, but to do so is ludicrous. My coiled-up lust is begging me to touch him again, for me to slip my hands below where he’s tied the vacant arms of his suit. I imagine sliding my palm down, just enough to venture under his skin-tight top and caress his flesh. To touch him, rather than his clothing. To feel the connection of our nerves in every available spot.

  The thought winds my dick up to high heat. I’m getting hard. ‘Focus! Focus on the screw. Oh God, terrible choice of words.’ I dip back under the chassis again, all but hidden from view apart from my legs.

  His eyes burn away my shorts, his gaze lingering where it shouldn’t. I want him. I want him to watch me work. To see how skilled I am. And to be proud. But, just as much, I want him to want me.

  This is ridiculous. How can this be any more than a schoolboy crush? That’s not enough to turn my life, and that of my family’s, upside down. I need to demonstrate some self-control.

  Elliott

  “Kyle has been asking about you,” Jessie mentions as we finish our debrief on a ten question interview I have with one of the popular racing mags.

  “Oh, yeah? What’s he asked?”

  “Well, to be more specific, he’s asking about you and me. Whether we have a thing.” She uses air-quotes.

  “And how do you know this?”

  She laughs. “Are you serious? Have you forgotten how rumors fly around this place?”

  I join her. It was a stupid question. “OK, fair point.”

  “I think he might be interested in you.” She jangles one eyebrow and allows it to linger up high while she assesses my response.

  “I don’t think so, I’ve tried. I’d love a piece of him.” As the words escape my mouth, I resist the urge to slap the back of my hand against it. I regret speaking about Kyle with such disregard. Yes, I would love a piece of his powerful body, but he’s more than that. I’m drawn to him.

  “He is impressive isn’t he? It’s nice to see a hot mechanic for a change. I know the mechanics have to work out for their jobs but most only do the bare minimum, just enough to get by. It’s nice to be able to appreciate a body that’s put through the mill in the gym.”

  “Oh, don’t I know it. He is one gorgeous specimen. But, he’s also one gorgeous, straight specimen. Or so he insists.” There I go again. I just can’t help myself.

  “Ah, so that sounds like you’ve had your ego bruised. Has he refused your advances?”

  “Hmm.” Finally, I get a handle on my runaway mouth, holding back on the details.

  “You know, we could always have a threesome. If you’re struggling, perhaps I can make some headway where your testosterone is flailing?”

  “It’s an idea, but let’s see how he pans out on his own first.” Quite frankly, I’d really rather not share Kyle Beaumont with anyone, unless it’s the only way I can get him.

  “Your choice, I may just have to go up against you in that case,” she warns. “Listen, what are you doing later? You up for hooking up at your place?”

  “Hooking up, eh?”

  “Well, I was thinking, last night was fun. We could pick up where we left off last season. Just because we’ve got our sights on Kyle, doesn’t mean we can’t have some fun in the interim. Crank it up a notch on last night.”

  “Hmm, crank it up a notch, sounds interesting. I think I could be up for that.” And I smile. A smile which I know reaches my eyes in all the right places because I’ve practiced it in the mirror. It’s the one that I plaster over my face when I meet fans or do a track parade, waving from the bus which ambles around the course at 10mph while we churn out the same drivel to one TV interviewer after another.

  “Shall I come to yours after we finish up then?”

  For the first time in my life I’m considering whether I should accept an offer of complication free sex. Jessie and I had a good thing going last year. It was fun, and if I’m honest, I was hot under the collar for her. She’s pretty; I won’t deny that. Beautiful long brown hair that accents her delicate features whether it’s pulled back or left down, flowing over her shoulders. Her full boobs are natural, which is amazing in this business and she curves in all the right places. Perhaps I’m an idiot, because last night, well, she didn't interest me in the slightest. Kyle is just all consuming.

  And, right on cue, guess who walks past the open door to the meeting room? I’m not sure whether my highly tuned peripheral vision is a blessing or a curse. His spine is rigid and his pace brisk. In that second, I have time to notice the set line of his lips. The dark eyes which were warm earlier, are now cold like a frozen lake.

  Fuck!

  He heard.

  He fucking heard us.

  My heart races and I jump up, knocking over my chair in my desperation to catch up with him.

  I grab his arm once we hit the stairwell. “Kyle, wait.”

  He spins on his heel, and I almost run into him. I have a vision of knocking him over, him flying down the steps, but as I bump him, it’s like ramming into a brick wall. He doesn’t budge. Our faces are level with him balancing on the step beneath me, “Wait.” I’m out of breath, but not from running.

  “I am waiting Elliott, that’s why I turned in the opposite direction to the one I was taking. But, it would appear you can’t do the same.”

  “I’m sorry. What I said, I didn’t mean it. It’s just a habit, speaking like that. Plus, you’re not interested, you said so.”

  “Don’t you start with that crap. I will not embark on such a monumental change to my life with someone who can’t keep it in his pants for more than five seconds. Enjoy your night, Elliott.”

  He spits the words at me and turns on his heel, marching off, once again in the direction he had been taking before my interruption messed with the direction he was taking.

  Kyle

  I feel sick. And like a schmuck.

  And to top it off, I’m now dragon boat racing.

  It’s something they do every year, apparently, to kick the season off.

  Bedlam springs to mind.

  There aren’t enough boats for all two hundred of us, so we have to take turns. Each boat holds ten people and a drummer to bludgeon out the pace at which we must row. At least I can breathe a sigh of relief that I’ve not been selected to play drummer boy. But, Elliott has. And guess who’s on his team. I wouldn’t be surprised if he requested me.

  And, so here we are, standing in regimented lines at the side of the river practicing our paddle technique. It’s not raining, but it’s not as warm as last night and I’m just hoping I don’t fall in.

  Our team, including the other drivers, Brad and Chase, the Team Principals, are in the final heat. Chase is currently receiving more than his fair amount of ribbing for his name from the two drivers.

  “You’ll be chasing us,” Brad bellows, pointing his finger toward Chase and then down at his own butt.

  Elliott glances up from posting his tweet to join in, “Yeah, you can’t help yourself. It’s in your DNA to be second place.”

  “Always chasing something. That’s why you’re not a driver,” Brad replies.

  “Hey, I’m doing OK with you two, still managed to clock up the odd constructor’s championship along the way. I’m not stupid enough to risk my life every race day when I can win from the pits.” Chase retorts when they shut up long enough for him to get a word in.

  It is funny, and I chuckle. But it’s not an all-encompassing belly laugh that I could let out in appreciation of this childishness on a different day. Instead my throat makes more of a flat gurgle.

  After the second to last race draws to a close, we put on our life jackets.

  “You’re too big Kyle, you’ll have to upgrade.” Greg laughs.

  “Yeah, look at him, it’s like a pin badge on him,” someone I don’t even know yet laughs.

  I laugh, too. To be fair, they’re right. I look totally ridiculous. The vest ends by my nipples. I pull it down and wobble onto the unsteady boarded surface to take my seat in the middle of the boat.

  And then a fire cracker signals our start.

  Elliott beats his drum and our oars slice into the water. We’re a crew of fit and young individuals who all like to win, as are the others. It’s no big shocker then, that there is no clear leader between the teams.

  As soon as one boat pushes ahead, another drum beats faster. The related boat noses forward. By the time we reach 400 meters, Elliott is beating the skin of his drum with way more pace than I anticipated and while I may be strong, what is becoming ever more apparent is that I could do with a little more cardio time in the gym.

  Sweat is pouring off me by the time we draw toward the finish line. It’s dribbling into my eyes, channeling down the side of my arms, and probably the worst of all is that it’s routing between my thighs.

  The race has only lasted 500 meters!

  I keep up the pace, but I experience more than a flutter of relief that I’m not sitting at the front of the boat under Elliott. With the stench I’m likely kicking up, he may get more than he bargained for.

  The end draws near and he hollers a little louder at us, “More speed, more strength. Let’s win!”

  Like the good boys we are, we dip our oars deeper into the water, grunting as the effort lashes into our core. Tense stomach muscles pull through and as we fight Brad for top position. Our boat nudges ahead in time with another yell, “One last push! Dig deep!”

  As we literally sail over the finish line. Elliott plays a massive drum roll, throwing his arms up in elation as we are confirmed this years’ winners.

  “Let this be a sign of our season to come,” he screams and dive bombs into the water.

  And they all follow.

  As they all dive into the river without a second thought, I’m left alone. I’m still catching my breath and wondering what’s going on while they all float around like a bunch of ungraceful water lilies.

  Ice cold needles my skin, removing all breath from my lungs. As I gasp, I stand and peer into the river. “Come on, get in.” It’s Elliott.

  I grin. If you can’t beat ‘em join ‘em. Wrapping my knees up to my stomach as I launch myself off the edge and into the air, I crash into the water behind him, slamming him in the face with my waves.

  Elliott

  “Jeez, there’s no need for that. I only splashed you a bit.” My tone is one of outrage, but my smile is glorious. This man has been too serious and now, the grin plastered across his face matches my own and my spirits soar.

  I swim over to him.

  “Listen, I don’t want to get into this now, but sorry about earlier. It was a misunderstanding.” I hold my hands up as I kick my feet to keep my position steady. His eyes narrow, suspicion clouding their humor. I dip my hands below the surface and touch his arm where no one can see. Not that they’re paying any attention. They’re more interested in drowning each other.

  “That’s all. If you’ll let me explain, I will later, but let’s have fun now. I just wanted you to know.” I’m rambling. I never ramble. This guy has me off center.

  His eyes meet mine and he slides his arm back, releasing from my grip. My stomach sinks, heavy. But then, his cold fingers intertwine with my own under the water.

  “I’d like that.” His face creases displaying his inner beauty, the faint lines highlighting the softness in his eyes and the gentleness in his smile.

  Time waits for my heart to catch up. My blood pressure rockets and my breath is coming in short, rapid bursts. I take my other hand and reach out He meets me with his and we hang there, facing each other, hands joined, suspended by the river.

  We’re silent but conversing on every level. The sound of the rowdy group screeching in the background fades around us as our unsaid words collide, working through issues a conversation would never resolve. Words would come out wrong, sentences would be misconstrued, and heat would rise for all the wrong reasons. But in this honest moment, the simplicity of being caught off-guard is all we need to settle our uncertainties.

  “I’d like to kiss you.” My cock is twitching, but it’s the pull on my heart that is driving my longing. I release a hand and wrap my arm around his waist, dragging him toward me under the surface. As our bodies connect Kyle gasps. Sparks ignite from my groin up to my head as flames ricochet off the inside of my skull, rolling my eyes as they land back in the pit of my stomach.

  “We should, we should join the party.” Kyle’s voice is husky, and his look doesn't waver from mine.

  I break our connection for a second, scanning around. Everyone has swum off and we’re left alone behind the boat.

  He notices too.

  Instead of letting me go, he pulls me tighter into him until there is no space between our faces. I lift my jaw, waiting, praying he’s no longer battling the need for his lips to meet mine. Our chests are pressed together beneath our life vests, rising and falling as one. My hand sneaks round the base of his spine and all of a sudden, I can’t wait any longer, I groan as my hardness collides with his and finally our wanting lips connect. We seal them with such force, such hunger that our greed has our teeth gnashing and tongues swirling in an inebriating combination of urgency and aggression.

  Our tongues crush into each other, using deep probes to explore undiscovered crevices. His rough chin rubs against mine, I feel his butt tighten as he kicks to stay afloat with his cock pressing into my length.

  My head spins as his hand creeps up the back of my top, stopping where my life jacket prevents him from moving higher.

  “Oh God, Elliott, I don’t know what I’m doing.” He groans into my mouth as he locks me into him.

  “Just enjoy it; switch your brain off. It feels good doesn’t it?”

  “It feels so good,” he agrees before planting his silken tongue back inside my mouth.

  Kyle

  I don’t see much of Elliott for a few days after the boat racing. He’s been dragged off to take part in some publicity pieces while we practice our routines, sort some issues we discovered with the car, and fine tune pit stops. I’m an ace with the tire now, although I quickly learned to always make sure I’m wearing both gloves when removing it. Rubber at 100 degrees on my bare palm is not fun.

  We’ve trained for what will happen in the event of the engine stalling, how we deal with flat tires and stacking cars one after the other in quick succession.

  “You’ve got it, Kyle.” Greg slaps me on the back.

  I grin. “Thanks. It was just a matter of finding my rhythm.”

  “We must have run through sixty drills the last few days. I’d be worried if you weren’t in your groove.”

  The distraction that is Elliott Judd. is clear and I’ve resolved that whatever we decide when he returns, I need to speak to him about giving me space so I can concentrate on my work.

  In the interim, I have a load of paperwork to contend with. Madeline, my ex, has filed for divorce and we’re in the middle of selling our house.

  “Sign the papers as soon as you get them,” she screeched into the cell phone at me before I left.

  “It’s not that simple, Madeline.” I don’t have time to explain more fully before her tirade recommences.

  In the end, I’ve appointed my parents as executors. It’s just less stress. With me being so transient, I’m not going to be able to jump to her demands anymore.

  Yes, us splitting up is fine, and I’m well rid of her. She was a local girl who I married because it was expected, rather than us having fallen in love. There was a time when I loved her, but I’m not sure I was ever in love. I never felt anything for her even remotely like I feel for Elliott.

  And there I go again. That full circle that always brings me back to him. Whatever I start off doing, in the end, it just loops back to Elliott Judd.

  Him being away is good. It’s given me time to accept that yes, I do want him, but I’m still working out why. I don’t know whether it isn’t just me being flattered because a horny star desires me. And, independently of that, I haven’t come to terms with how I feel about him either. Before I participate in anything irreversible, I must be confident I’m not making a huge error.

  We’ve chatted a few times through text, but I’ve tried to keep it clean. Elliott’s mind is in the gutter.

  Elliott: ‘Sorry for just taking off. I didn’t realize I would be away so long.’

  ‘That’s OK. When are you coming back?’

  Elliott: ‘Three days. Have some factory visits to make and some PR interviews which are short, but they’re all over the country.’