Carpe Diem - Jesse 3 (2 page)

“The Ice Man? He came back and made team captain after you left.”

Fuck.

I pushed my hand through my hair. The one guy I really didn’t want to deal with would be on the Yamaha team again.

Niki piped up and asked, “Do you call him Ice because it’s the beginning of his last name, Eiss-en?”

I shook my head. “No. He’s Ice because he’s a mother fucking cold and heartless dude. Oops, did I say that out loud? In case you can’t tell, Niki, I don’t like the guy. His own mother probably don’t even like him.”

Coach must have seen my jaw twitching as I lost myself in my disgust for Ice and tried to change the conversation.

“Are you and Niki going to stay at the camp?”

“Nah, Niki wants to explore the fashion district of Milan; you know, hob-knob and rub elbows with a more sophisticated crowd than a bunch of dirt covered testosterone bags like us.”

Coach nodded, “Good idea. I’ll get you a rental car to drive back and forth, but no Ferrari. Probably a Fiat.”

I made a face at Niki, like I was annoyed that the rental car would be small, but I was really pleased that Coach was going out of his way to make this work for us.

The car slowed as we arrived just outside the camp and Coach pointed, drawing our attention to the area just up ahead. My pulse picked up as the excitement of riding pumped through my veins again. The sound of motorcycle engines buzzed like bees swarming a nest and the smell of the exhaust fumes was like Speed to me. Motocross was what I lived for.

I stepped out of the car and then helped Niki out of the back seat. I turned to her with a wide grin plastered across my face and said, “Do you smell that, Niki?” I inhaled a deep breath and closed my eyes for a second, savoring the moment.

Niki wrinkled her petite nose and said, “Smells like exhaust fumes.”

I let out my breath with an over dramatized “Ah,” and said, “That’s the smell of Mom’s home cooking...I’m home.”

She swatted my arm playfully and said, “You’re crazy. Let’s go take a look at this set up. I’ve never seen this kind of stuff in real life, just on TV. I want to see if you’re all you are cracked up to be, Big Stuff.”

We left our bags and backpacks in the car and headed over to where a bike was propped up on a stand and surrounded by a swarm of mechanics with greasy hands. Large trailers used to haul the bikes were parked around the area, sporting brightly colored logos of the energy drink sponsors. I was stoked to be here. This was going to be my best racing year ever. I could feel it in my bones and the fact that Niki would be by my side, cheering me on, gave me even more confidence than ever before. As long as Ice stayed the hell out of my way, that was.

Niki

I
was ecstatic. I was in Italy, and head-over-heels in love with bad boy Jesse Morrison. I gave up everything to be here with him: design school, my apartment with my best friend, Kat, and even the only family I had. My dad had practically disowned me for following my heart’s desire and traipsing half way across the world to follow a handsome, charming, and tattooed Motocross rider. That sounded pretty daring, but my best friends, Kat and Chase, had urged me to go with my gut instincts. And my gut told me to take Jesse’s offer to tag along on his month long training session at a camp just outside Milan, Italy.

I had been living my life trying to please my dad, and everyone but myself, for too many years. But not this time. Not anymore. Good or bad, whatever came of it, I had made the decision to go with Jesse and I was glad I did. No, I was euphoric. The trip was panning out to be the experience of a lifetime, so far. Being in Milan, one of the fashion capitals of the world, afforded me endless possibilities for my future career in fashion design and I couldn’t wait to get to the hotel and into the heart of the city. But first, we had to make a stop at the training camp so Jesse could check it out and meet all of his team members. After all, this trip was for his career and I was also here to support him, no matter what.

I wasn’t sure what a training camp would look like, but despite my inner thoughts of trepidation, when I stepped out of Joe’s rental car, my eyes widened at what I saw.

“Jesse, this is amazing. It’s quite a set up. I had no idea the training camp would be so... so elaborate.”

“Come on, I’ll show you around and introduce you to the guys. But watch out, they’re all man-whores.”

“Jesse...” I gasped and feigned surprise.

“Okay - okay, maybe not man-whores, but watch your ass when you walk past them, you might get swatted on the butt.”

“Works for me,” I shot back.

There were canopies with shiny motorcycles under them, propped up on metal stands. Some were bright red and others were blue, each one surrounded by mechanics hunched over them, tuning the engines to perfection. There were RVs and camping trailers for the guys to sleep in, and as soon as I saw them I immediately knew why a girl would be out of place in this environment. I studied the number of handsome young men milling about in various modes of protective riding gear, wearing futuristic looking helmets, with goggle hidden eyes and padded riding jackets that made them look like robotic Transformers from an alien world. And they were all hot! They looked like sweating stallions, pacing and prancing with blood red cheeks, flush from heavy breathing as they got off their bikes and slid off their helmets, rubbing their hands through their tousled helmet hair.

“Here, watch where you’re walking, Niki. The ground is a little uneven.” Jesse took my elbow as we stepped over the soft ground toward a circle of trailers as Coach led the way. Coach introduced us to a couple of the other riders and then we moved on to the next set of tents and trailers. As we walked along, Coach turned and said, “Most of these guys are Jesse’s friends, they’ve know each other for years.”

“Yeah, but don’t let appearances fool you, Niki, their knuckles still drag on the ground when they walk.”

Coach snort-laughed and said, “Some of them were on the team back when Jesse was injured.”

“Oh, I see. So everybody rides the same kind of bike as Jesse?”

Coach shot a nervous glance over at Jesse. “Uh no, only one other guy rides in the same class as Jesse, the 450 cubic engine. The others race in the 250s.”

Outside the next trailer, we came upon Jesse’s nemesis, Karl Eissen. He didn’t say anything when Coach introduced him to me. He didn’t have to. His blazing blue eyes nearly pierced a hole right through me when he nodded his “hello.””.

Ice was from Germany and he was devastatingly handsome. Strong shoulders, chiseled feature, a magnetic smile, a total panty-dropping package that would be hard for any girl to resist.

I immediately picked up on a discordant vibe between him and Jesse. Even though Jesse and Ice were on the same team, it was obvious they were enemies. Jesse had told me how much he despised him, but I hoped maybe things could be different now. After all, Jesse had changed a lot since he’d first showed up in my life.

I nodded back towards Ice. “Nice to meet you.” I knew I should probably have kept my mouth shut, but I continued, “Do you ride the same class engine as Jesse, a 450?”

His eyes widened. “Yes, a 450 alright. You understand bikes, I see. Beautiful and smart. Jesse, I’m impressed...and maybe a little jealous.”

He spoke with a heavy German accent. I could easily see why he was called Ice. Between that voice and those blue eyes, his nickname fit him to a T.

Jesse didn’t say a word but I saw the muscle in his jaw twitch.

Coach cleared his throat and ran interference. “We should get going now, Ice. I want to introduce Jesse to the rest of the crew.”

Ice sniffed and tossed his head back, then turned on his heels and walked away, carrying his helmet under his arm. Jesse glowered at him and Coach tugged on his arm. “Let it go, Jesse. Come on, let’s say hi to Marco Santini.”

Jesse leaned in to Coach’s ear as we walked. “Still an asshole, I see.”

“Jess, don’t get started. Remember what I told you?”

“No kidding. But those two dickheads are thick as thieves and I don’t trust them as far as I can throw them.”

Jesse pushed his hand through his hair and furrowed his brow. Every muscle in his arms twitched as he stomped around the corner of the next tent set up. I had to pick up my pace to keep up with him and Coach. When he saw me hurrying to catch up, he stopped and waited for me while Coach went on ahead.

I looked at Jesse, worried. “I don’t get it. They’re your team members. Aren’t you supposed to all get along? I mean, pull together as a team?”

We were just outside the mechanics’ crew area and Jesse shook his head. “Coach warned me about Marco. Before I signed back on the team, a Brazilian jerk-wad, Marco Santini, was supposed to move up into the 450 class, but now that I’m back, I have that spot and Marco’s got his panties all in a bunch.”

Coach waited for us a few strides ahead. He had a pensive look on his face as he studied Jesse’s reaction, but Coach struck me as the type of guy who knew how to handle these testosterone-laden prima donna’s. I knew how fierce of a competitor Jesse was and, even after meeting a guy with a name like “Ice,”” I was confident Jesse was the best rider on the team. I just wasn’t sure if his hair-trigger temper would be the best thing for the team.

We kicked up the dust of the well-worn paths as we snaked our way deeper into the support team area, where I was introduced to the rest of the crew. These were the people working behind the scenes. The entire operation was bigger than I had imagined. I’d never realized how many people it takes to keep a motocross team running. Each rider had a tuning specialist assigned to their bike, whose only purpose was to keep the performance of the engine top notch. There were various other mechanics and each one was assigned a special task. One was in charge of suspension, another one worked on the brakes and so on. In total, there were more than fifteen mechanics, working night and day, to press the best performance out of the bikes.

Even the riders were “tuned up,”” so to speak. Besides the mechanics there were three physical therapists, two trainers and two doctors on the team to keep the riders in prime form. Motocross was an elite sport, one with a unique and demanding skill set and the physical trials were tough. Jesse, Ice, Marco and the others had to spend several hours a day in a rigid physical training program. There was even a psychologist on the team to help lift the morale and keep each rider focused, with laser like precision, and not jeopardize the integrity of the team. It was all about winning and I had seen firsthand how it had affected Jesse when he couldn’t ride; when his body was not the fine-tuned machine he needed for this kind of work.

By the last leg of our tour of the training camp I was mentally exhausted. My mind was full of names I was sure I would forget in the soup of information overload that swirled inside my head. And one thing was certain: I was very happy we were not staying at the training camp with all of the other riders. Though I had seen one female mechanic, this was a man’s world and I was grateful that Jesse had made the sacrifice to commute to the camp every day from our hotel in Milan.

I sat perched on the bumper of a large pickup truck, patiently waiting while Jesse and Coach discussed the next six weeks of training plans. Coach looked over at me with my chin in my hand and said, “Well, Jess, enough talk for today. Let’s get your pretty little lady over to the hotel.” He gave him a friendly guy-slap on the back and Jesse came over to take my hand.

“I’m sorry, babe, you must be so bored with all this. Let’s get out of here.”

“Finally,” I burst out with a laugh. “I can’t wait to see the city.”

We slid into the back seat of the Mercedes and this time Jesse sat with me, putting his arms around me and snuggling up close, as Coach chauffeured us back to town. I melted into his arms and I was even more ecstatic than before, wrapped in a cocoon of happiness, anxious to get to the Sheraton Hotel in Milan, the city at the center of fashion design and all things gloriously artistic. I had definitely made the right decision to follow Jesse to Italy. All of my doubts were washed away as the mellow countryside whizzed past the car window and transformed into a historical cityscape.

“I can’t wait to get to the hotel room,” Jesse’s voice rumbled low as he murmured into my ear. I scrunched up my shoulder to the ear he was nibbling. Delicious tingles raced through my body. It had only been 24 hours since I showed up at the airport at the last minute to come with him to Italy, and this whole time I had been dying to be in his arms, pressed up against his body, drinking in his kisses. I turned my head hungrily, devouring his lips in a kiss of lust and passion, sucking them into my mouth only briefly as I was self-conscious of Coach driving in the front seat. I whispered against his lips, “I can’t wait either. It’s driving me crazy.”

He pressed his lips to my ear. “I’m gonna fuck you hard, baby.”

I rolled my eyes and sucked in a breath to try to quell my rising desire. I gently shoved him back, to put some space between us, in an effort to keep my passion from spilling over into the back seat of the car.

Niki

T
he minutes ticked by slowly as we drove the remainder of the miles to our hotel and finally, after we checked in and said goodbye to Coach, Jesse slid the key into the lock of our door. My insides grew warm again as Jesse took me by the hand and led me into the room. He flung down his backpack and rolled the suitcases in like he was in a race, then locked the door behind him. I was steaming with desire in two seconds flat and we both began clawing and tearing at each other’s clothes. I was the first to strip completely and he pushed me down onto the hotel bed, looming over me like a fire breathing beast. “I’m going to make hot love to you, the way you like it, the way you want me to. I’ve had a raging hard on ever since we got into the back seat of the Mercedes.”

His words made my pulse jump in rapid fire succession of heartbeats, shooting electricity through my veins. Making me even hotter for his touch, if that were even possible. He reached out and ran the palm of his hand up my stomach, filling it with my breast at the end of its journey. As he squeezed, his tattoo danced on the skin of his arm, set in motion by powerful muscles below the surface. In a flash, the expression in his eyes grew deep and filled with desire. It pierced me to my core, entering me with such force and power, commanding me to succumb to his hunger, as if he were fucking me with his eyes. Caught off guard by the powerfulness of it, I drew in a sharp breath, and a rush of adrenaline spiked to every part of my body.