Racing for Freedom - By Bec Botefuhr Page 0,27

My legs buckle and he slides down to the floor with me, never letting me go. He grips my sliced finger and he wraps his hand around it, holding it tightly to stop the thick flow of blood that’s now dripping onto my legs.

“He’s missing out, you’re a great racer Dashy. He’s the one missing out, not you.”

“He’s my dad,” I whimper. “He’s meant to be there Slade.”

“Sometimes having them there, isn’t always best.”

I shift slightly so I’m turned to the side and I tilt my head back to look up at him. His eyes are pained, but he quickly covers it and wipes a tear from my cheek with his thumb.

“You have to keep fighting, even if no one believes in you, Dash. It’s the only way. Do you want this?”

I nod. “You know I do.”

“Then fight for it, with or without him.”

I nod and look down. “I’m bleeding all over you.”

“Yeah,” he chuckles hoarsely, “you are.”

He helps me to my feet and leads me out to the kitchen. He sits me on a bar stool and gets the first aid kit from the pantry. He takes my hand in his, gently wiping away the blood that’s beginning to form. I watch him intently as he moves his fingers over mine, gently spreading them and cleaning them. I swallow, feeling a rush of warmth slide through me that I haven’t felt for a long, long time.

He gently wraps a Band-Aid around my finger and then looks up and meets my eyes, smiling. His finger is still stroking my now covered one, and the moment is intense. I feel my heart kick up a notch as I stare at him, swallowing rapidly, to try and shove the feelings down that are bubbling to the surface. He raises his hand and strokes a thumb over my cheek, making me gasp at the contact.

Suddenly his free hand is tangled in my hair and we’re moving closer. Part of me is screaming to pull back, screaming for him to stop touching me and let me go, but my body is still moving closer and closer to those beautiful, full lips. Our eyes are connected as he tilts my head back and presses his lips to mine. I groan and reach up, tangling my free hand through his hair and pulling him down closer.

The kiss deepens, our fingers entwine and he has a hand in my hair, I have one in his. Our lips move together in a soft, slow dance that has my heart throbbing angrily, against my rib cage. I haven’t felt such emotion…since…he left. When his tongue slides into my mouth and finds mine, I gasp and pull him even closer, if that’s possible. When he groans, reality sinks in and I gently pull back. What the hell are we doing?

“Slade…”

His eyes are wild with lust, anger and things I don’t know how to read. Or maybe I don’t want to read them because I’m scared of what they might mean. He stares at me, and I can see he’s panting wildly.

“What…what are you doing?” I whisper.

“Fuck,” he whispers, running his hands through his hair.

“You don’t even like me Slade, why did you do that?”

He looks at me again, narrowing his eyes. “Dash, why do you think I don’t like you?”

“The last few years have been hell. You treated me so badly, you left and when I saw you again you were awful. Why are you doing this now?”

He stares me right in the eye when he speaks. “I fucked up Dash, the way I treated you back then, you have to know…”

“What?” I whisper, feeling my voice break.

“It wasn’t your fault. I know you think it was, but it wasn’t. What I did to you that night, I was a fucking jerk. You deserved so much more, you deserved your first time to be beautiful.”

“Here’s the thing Slade,” I say in a small voice. “It was beautiful, I hated you for it but afterwards, but I could only think that being with you was beautiful, no matter how it was done. I hated myself for that.”

He curses and takes my face in his hands. “I fucked you against a fence, I wasn’t gentle or slow. I should have treated you so much better, but I was in a bad, bad place and I was losing everything around me. I didn’t want to be close to you, because I knew that if I let myself love you, I would have never