Lena
I’ve had about a week to learn this car. It’s not hard to handle, and its features are easy to pick up. The only downside is, it’s been a long time since I’ve actually driven, and it shows when it starts to rain on my way home.
At first, it’s just a drizzle. A light pat, pat, pat, on my windshield. Then, the rain picks up. I turn on the wipers and the lights as it starts to get a little heavier. I slow down a bit—what any smart person would do in the event of bad weather.
I don’t have any issues with driving in the rain, even as it picks up. I start to slow my driving, however, as I turn down the long road that will eventually get me to my house. I don’t want to tempt fate—after all, I just got this car, and I’m not going to drive myself into a ditch over a little bit of rain!
I turn the music up, figuring that I can listen to some tunes. I’ll get home, grade some papers … I doubt that I’ll see Booster, considering the fact that—
Boom!
My car is jolted, my head smacking painfully into the steering wheel. A screeching skid sounds out somewhere, but I’m not paying attention to that as my car is lurched forward, sideways—down.
Suddenly, the windshield glass shattered, and a flood of water comes rushing into my car. I don’t know where it has come from—has it been raining so much that it’s flooding already? The water is freezing, shocking me as it rushes into the car, slowly filling it.
My mind freezes too. I’ve never been in this situation, and I don’t know what to do. I struggle, trying to get out of my seat.
I need to get my seatbelt off. Right.
Except it doesn’t come off. I can’t get the buckle to work, and as the water continues to rush into the car, it’s slowly followed by grass and mud.
Oh god … I’ve crashed into one of the ditches! They line the road to my house; they’re deep; and they collect water—quick.
“Shit … Come on!” I yank at my seatbelt again, but I have no luck in getting myself out. I try and try, but I can’t. The water continues to come into my car, coming up to my waist and freezing me to the point that it’s hard to think. It doesn’t help that my head is pounding, thump, thump, thump.
Suddenly, my car door is wrenched open. I don’t get a chance to see who it is that’s pulling me out. All I know is that there’s a strong pair of arms wrapping themselves around me tight, and pulling me from my seat despite my stubborn seatbelt not wanting to cooperate with me anymore.
There’s a grunt, and a groan, but I’m pulled out easily. My rescuer and I trudge from the ditch. It’s a little hard, and with the way that I’m disoriented, I have a hard time helping. He gets me up and out of the ditch though, with a little bit of slipping and sliding. We come up to the side of the road and when I get the chance to see who it is, I’m shocked.
It’s Booster.
He’s soaking wet in the rain, and so am I. He’s staring at me keenly, however, and I think that I see a flash of concern, intense worry, furrow at his brow. I have so many questions on my mind, but I don’t ask them. Instead I look to my car, crashed into the ditch.
It’s a cruel irony; I’ve only had it for a week—not even something that I bought myself—and it’s already gone. I imagine that Booster’s going to be mad about that, having invested money on that only to have me screw it up—
“Are you all right?” His hand is uncommonly and unexpectedly gentle on my shoulder, making me turn around. “Forget about the car. Are you all right? What happened? How’d you end up in that ditch?”
It takes a moment for me to answer, because they aren’t the questions that I expect to come from Booster. I take in a breath and spare one last glance to the car in the ditch; I’m annoyed and somewhat near tears as I realize the rain is starting to let up.
“It was another car,” I explain. “They sideswiped me and I ended up crashing into the ditch. I don’t know where they went, but they obviously weren’t interested in staying around and seeing if I was okay …”
It occurs to me then that had Booster not shown up … I wouldn’t have been able to get out of my seat, and all of that water and mud would have continued to seep into the car and drowned me.
I suddenly feel very, very woozy. I tilt where I sit, and Booster’s arms come around me, to hold me up. He’s warm beneath the chill of rain against his skin. Instinctively, I lean into him and rest my head against his chest. My eyes flutter.
His fingers brush over my head. I don’t realize it immediately until he says it.
“You’re bleeding.”
I breathe in and out. The lightheaded feeling hasn’t gone away yet.
“I need—I need to get home.”
“Home? No. You’re coming with me.”
I’m so out of it, I don’t have much a desire or opportunity to protest. Booster pulls me up in his arms and I stand up with him.
“My home—”
“I’m going to take you to mine. I’m going to take care of you.”
There’s no room to protest more, and I don’t think about the fact that this is all so very, very new. I should probably be going to a hospital or … or something … maybe.
Booster gets me to his bike and he literally picks me up to set me on it. He gets on and I slump instantly against him.
“Wrap your arms around me, doll.”
I do as I’m told, almost as if going through the motions.
“Tighter.”
Again—I do as I’m told.
I’m as numb mentally as I am physically, but I stay wrapped around Booster as he zips off in the rain. I keep my head pressed against his back—his strong, broad back that feels safer, somehow, than anything else I’ve experienced. I don’t know where I’m going; I’ve never been to Booster’s place before, and I’ve never even considered that it’s something I would ever do.
Will it be some big motorcycle club?
Will I be surrounded by more bikers?
I flutter in and out of consciousness. I can’t tell you exactly how to get to Booster’s, just that it takes … time. I can’t tell you how much time, either. I have no idea what my sense of time is.
When we get to Booster’s, it’s not raining anymore. I’m still woozy though, and lightheaded. It’s hard to concentrate. He takes me in his arms and literally picks me up off of his bike, carting me from his driveway to his home.
I get flashes—creaking stairs as he carries me up, the door opening, his boots thudding against the hardwood floors. I bury my face in his neck, wrap my arms around his shoulders. I vaguely register the fact that we’re going up the stairs.
“You might have a concussion,” he said. “I know how to take care of those, but I’m going to need you to stay awake, even when you feel like you don’t want to, okay?”
I nod, a little listlessly. I’m not really sure what’s actually going on … what I’m doing. I do know that I’m now seated on something very, very soft—
Oh. A bed. Booster’s bed?
I settle back against the plush pillows. Cold nips at my skin and I realize that I’m shivering. Booster realizes it too. He gives me a look and shakes his head.
“You need to get out of those clothes.”
I don’t fight him as he starts undressing me, starting with my shoes. I like the way that his hands feel on me too much to do so, and I watch him keenly as he takes his time in doing so. They’re softer than my fantasies were. If I wasn’t so cold and out of it, I may have blushed in thinking about that at a time like this.
“You’re enjoying yourself, aren’t you?” I don’t notice the slight slur in my voice.
Booster’s lip twitches, but he doesn’t answer—a surprise.
He peels off my wet clothing, piece by piece, until I’m bare. I lie there on his bed, vulnerable, prone in my nakedness. He leans forward and reaches toward me. My breath hitches—
He wraps me up in his bed’s comforter, sealing in the warmth around me.
“I’m gonna stick these in the washer and dry them. You stay put and awake until I get back.”
Like many of the things that Booster has said to me, he leaves no room for argument, but I’m not really in the argument state of mind. Instead, I lie back and force myself to stay awake despite the heavy exhaustion that settles on my body, pressing me down into the softness of the sheets. They’re so warm and inviting.
“Hey. You need to stay awake.”
I blink my eyes once more and turn my head. Booster’s come back; it doesn’t feel like it’s been that long, but then again, my sense of time is off. He frowns a little at me and comes in, holding two pills and a glass of water in one hand, and a small first aid kit in the other.
“Aspirin,” he explains, as I eye the little white pills. “And something to wash them down with.”
I know that taking medication from a stranger—medication that you didn’t actually see them get—is a bad idea. I can think of a number of times that this has backfired on someone, and you hear in the news how a mother’s been poisoning their child for attention by giving them ‘vitamins’ that were actually prescription drugs, or a husband’s been trying to get rid of his wife by putting arsenic in her coffee.
I can’t think that Booster would do something like that to me, though. Nothing up to this point has given me reason to think that he would hurt me. That would be fairly counterproductive to his desires from me, wouldn’t it? I think so.
I open my mouth and take the pills offered. They leave an acrid smear against my tongue which I’m quick to wash away with the offered water. I’m quiet and obedient as Booster then sits beside me, taking his time to clean the wound on my head where I smacked it against my steering wheel. The solution that he rubs across it stings badly, but he’s gentle as he cleans me up and puts a bandage to my head. He cleans up after, tossing away the soiled cloth. I lie back on the bed, sighing. This must be causing him a lot of trouble. Not to mention …
“I’m sorry.” I rasp out the apology; my throat hurts.
“Why are you sorry?” Booster gives me a perplexed look before he begins to undress himself—right. He probably shouldn’t’ hang around in wet clothes, either.
“The car … this trouble …” I mutter. I snuggle further down into the cocoon of blankets that I’m in, eyes fluttering once more.
“Hey, hey. None of that. And don’t apologize for the car. There’s another where it came from. Mostly I want to get my hands on the asshole that decided it was a good idea to fucking sideswipe you and leave. You could have been seriously hurt. Or worse.”
I wonder as he’s undressing if he would feel the same way if I wasn’t the woman that he wanted to have his child with. If I was a stranger, would he care?
Well, that’s a silly question. You already are a stranger, and he’s wanting to entrust you with his baby. That’s a pretty tall order; I say it’s standard.
I bite my lip on that thought and watch him as the layers of his wet clothing come off. He’s as sculpted as I’ve imagined, all thick, corded, tanned muscle. He’s not shy; he comes down to his boxers and then pulls them off—
I look away. I shouldn’t be ogling him like that.
If you give him what he wants, you’ll see it anyway. Feel it.
My thoughts are particularly intrusive today, and when I gain the courage to look at Booster once more, he has a new—dry—pair of boxers on. I almost frown.
“I’m gonna turn the heat up and be back. I’ll lie in here and watch you until you’re able to actually fall asleep.”
Again, I watch him leave. I’m struck by the fact that he’s still so authoritative, in charge, but he’s so … kind while he does it.
Who is this man, and how did he crash his way into my boring little life?
The room is tangibly warmer when Booster comes back. He cuts the light to his bedroom off and turns on the nightstand lamp instead, sliding onto the bed beside me. He surprises me when he puts his arm around me and draws me close.
“It’s Thursday,” he says. “So tomorrow you’re going to call the school and tell them that you’re sick and not coming in. You’ll stay here with me. I’ll look after you—make some calls to get the car removed from the ditch and have it replaced by the end of next week. I’ll drive you to and from school in the meantime, so you don’t get into anymore untimely accidents. All right?”
I can imagine what the other teachers and students will say if they see me coming to work and leaving it on the back of a flashy motorcycle. But the idea that they’ll have something to talk about when it comes to that is … tempting in a way that I know it shouldn’t be.
God, what’s wrong with me. What’s he doing to me?!
His thumb brushes over my cheekbone. It leave a fire in its wake, blushing up my skin.
“All right?” he repeats when I don’t answer, wrapped up in my swirling thoughts.
“A-all right.”
Booster smirks, and nods, satisfied with the answer that I give him. I don’t know what kind of trouble this whole thing is going to get me into, but I’m excited for the possibility that it’s going to bring.
The next morning, my headache and wooziness are gone—and so is Booster. I can’t remember when I fell asleep, just that I always felt like there was something safe and warm wrapped around me while I slept. It’s still nice and toasty in the house, and raining steadily once more outside.
It occurs to me that I’m still naked, and my clothes haven’t been returned to me yet. I blush again; I can’t get up and walk around naked! But I need to get up and walk around, go to the bathroom, find Booster.
Oh yeah, and call into work.
With a determined set to my face, I crawl out of the bed. Instead of walking around naked I’ll just … wrap one of the bedsheets around me. I make a mess of Booster’s bed when I pull one off and wrap the material around my body. There we go. Satisfactory enough.
I creep out of his room, the floorboards creaking under my feet as I do. I glance down one end of the hallway, noting that the stairs are that way. Down the other end is the bathroom.
Outside of Booster’s bedroom, I can hear noise downstairs, as well as smell the scent of cooking food. Delicious, meaty tones waft up, and my stomach growls at the scent. I didn’t eat anything last night, for obvious reasons. A decent breakfast sounds like it would do me good, so I make quick work of going to the bathroom before I pad down the stairs.
In nothing but a bedsheet.
The scent gets stronger and more mouthwatering when I hit the bottom floor, and I follow the scent until I get to the kitchen. Booster’s home is surprisingly open, yet somehow cozy all in one. It’s well-lived-in.
He’s standing by the stove, still in nothing but his boxers. There’s a carton of eggs out, bacon, chopped onions and peppers and mushrooms. I’m surprised that he’s going all out to get some breakfast done; I didn’t expect the hospitality.
Surprises all around with this man, apparently.
“Um. Good morning.”
Booster doesn’t turn around fully, only looks at me over his shoulder with his brow raised. He eyes me with an appreciative tilt to his head. The scrutiny makes me squirm, though not unpleasantly so. Warmth floods my body.
“Morning,” he answers, and turns back to the breakfast that he’s making. I pull myself together and walk in beside him, holding the bedsheet around me tight because if I don’t, I’m convinced that I will just let it fall from around my body.
“I didn’t think that I would wake up to breakfast,” I say.
“Only the best for you.” He looks at me again, smirking. “You know, you could have put on a shirt of mine, if you’d wanted. It’d cover all the important bits, if you’re shy.”
I didn’t even think of that, and I avert my gaze in the hopes that Booster won’t see my embarrassment.
“Right … Of course.”
He laughs.
“Don’t be so shy. Have you called the school yet?”
Damn. Forgot.
Booster nudges me.
“Call them, then turn your phone off. I’m staying in today and this weekend I have my VP handling the important shit. I’ll just be you and me and getting you on your feet. Got it?”
Again … that assertive personality wrapped up in concern and caring …
“Got it.”
“Good.” He reaches across the counter, and I realize he’s grabbing a phone. He hands it to me.
“Yours was in your pocket; it got completely soaked. We’ll fix that at some point, too, but in the meantime, you can call them on this.”
All I do is nod, taking the offered phone from Booster. Our fingers brush, a moment of warmth and our eyes lock. His gaze is intense—it’s always intense. I find myself being taken in by the depth of them before he smirks again.
“I gotta finish breakfast. Go on and make that call, doll.”
My retreat to his room is quick. I’m entirely too flustered by him, too … affected. He makes my head spin, and I don’t know why. Suddenly, I’m very glad that I’m calling out of work. There’s no way that I would be able to concentrate on teaching students when I can barely concentrate on not making a fool of myself in front of this man!
I shake my head, roll my shoulders, and head back upstairs.
Calling in sick doesn’t take a lot of time. I’ve never called in sick during my whole career, and Principal Walters is probably happy that he won’t be seeing any of me today, or tomorrow. Honestly, I’m happy that I won’t be seeing anymore of him this week, either.
When I get that out of the way, I go to Booster’s wardrobe and look through his clothes. I pull out a dark shirt and slip it over me; it comes down to my knees and I’m not shocked that I can literally wear it like a dress. I have no bra and no panties on under … For a moment I consider asking if my clothes are dry just so I have something underneath, but I make the choice not to do so.
Girl, you’re getting it bad.
I push the thought away and head back downstairs. Booster’s putting together plates of food for us; there’s already a large one set at the dining room table loaded with eggs, pancakes, bacon, and sausage.
My stomach rumbles again.
“Someone’s hungry.” Booster comes over, carrying a plate of his own. He sits down, and nods at the place across from his. “It’s gonna get cold.”
I sit, my stomach rumbling again. I know that I should say thank you, maybe tell him that he didn’t need to do all this, but my stomach is the dominant force here at the moment, and instead of doing that, I start to eat, ravenously.
Everything is so … delicious! I can’t help but moan at the savory bacon and subtly sweet sausage, how fluffy and buttery the pancakes are. I haven’t had a breakfast this good since spending time with my adoptive mom; she always made the biggest, best breakfasts.
This … this could actually rival that.
I don’t say it aloud, and I don’t actually pay all that much attention to Booster as I eat. I begin to feel even better as I fill up, and Booster doesn’t say a thing about my poor manners—because I’m not being very ladylike right now, if we’re being honest with each other.
“You sure can pack away some food.” I look up to see him also having devoured a good portion of his meal, smirking at me. I blush.
“I’m sorry. It was—it’s just really, really good. And I’m hungry.”
“It’s fine. You need to eat properly after last night. After … We’ll talk. Sound like a plan?”
I wonder what it is he could want to talk about. But considering everything he’s done for me … and everything I want him to do … and what I’m considering … there’s really not a no option.
“Yeah,” I say. “Sounds like a plan.”