Happy Hour (Racing on the Edge) (76 page)

Continuing to stare at our picture, Kyle knocked softly on the door before stepping inside. I could see his girlfriend standing outside in the hall waiting for him.

“Hey bud, how are you feeling?”

“Ready to race,” Jameson replied trying to give a thumbs up with his good hand that was wrapped around me.

“Hah!” Kyle laughed. “You’re funny.”

Jameson looked down and nodded. He knew he was going to be missing a few races and I think that bothered him.

“I hear they’re going to do surgery on the wrist tomorrow morning.” Kyle moved closer sitting on the couch located just inside the door.

“Yeah,” Jameson sighed shaking his head slightly. “They are putting in some pins
...
I guess.”

Kyle stood and walked towards the bed. Jameson moved his arms from around my shoulder, reaching for Kyle’s hand. “I’m glad you’re okay bud. You scared me there.”

“I know
...
I’m sorry.”

Kyle reached for his cell phone in his pocket. “Can you repeat that?” he laughed pushing the phone towards him. “I want to record it.”

I started giggling from my place beside him.

“Not a chance.” Jameson glared at me before turning it on Kyle. “That’s the only sorry you will ever get out of me. Remember that.”

“Oh I will.” He added while I continued to giggle. “I wasn’t sure you were capable of those two words.”

Jameson groaned. “So what do we do about another driver?”

“We got a few options around.” Kyle told him. “We can worry about that after the surgery when we know how long you will be out. That will determine
who
we choose.”

Jameson and Kyle made small talk for a moment before pussycat doll came back in to deliver the good stuff once again. I knew I only had about fifteen minutes before he fell asleep.

Kyle politely excused himself before Melanie started her process of exams on Jameson.

Being the crazy-irrational-hormone-enraged-pigizzle that I was now, watched
every
move she made and scrutinized
every
look Jameson gave her trying to decipher whether or not he’d be attracted to her.

I’d like to blame it on my hormones but I seemed to be blaming everything on that these days. You’d think at some point my brain would need to take some sort of responsibility for herself.

“Jameson,” Melanie touched his left leg over the blanket. “How are you feeling tonight?”

His brow furrowed as he looked down at her hand before answering. “Sore but less groggy
...
I guess that’s better.”

“Well the grogginess won’t go away just yet.” She tapped his IV. “It’s the morphine. You’re on a high dose right now to keep you relaxed. The more you rest, the faster you heal.”

I could tell he was still sleepy or else he would have objected to being sedated so heavily.

Melanie smiled one breathtaking smile at him. It was a smile that made me want to punch out all her pretty white teeth.

“Let me know if you need anything, sweetie.” Her head turned to the side. “It’s not every day we have a NASCAR superstar in here.”

Jameson smiled once at her and then looked away quickly without saying anything. I could tell she was making him uncomfortable, he didn’t like attention.

Once she left the room, Jameson sighed heavily. “I hate this place,” he grumbled in a thick drowsy voice. “I just want to go home.”

“I know
...
I do too.” I agreed running my hands over his stubby jaw.

Gingerly I brought his lips to mine.

I intended on kissing him just once but Jameson had other plans when his tongue glided against my lower lip.

Without thinking, I slowly deepened the kiss. His right hand came up from between us, cupping the back of my head. My mind was screaming for me to stop this, he was in no condition to be making out right now but I couldn’t make myself do as such.

Jameson moaned softly, his tongue dancing with my own. He tasted different, like medicine. His movements were slow but I could tell he wanted more. I was moments away from pulling away when he dropped his hand to mine, and then pulled it to his erection over the blanket.

At least I know that wasn’t damaged, that would have been fucking tragic.

Jameson groaned into my mouth. “God Sway
...
I
need
you.”

“Jameson,” I whispered pulling away with a grin of self-satisfaction that I could arouse him so easily. “We can’t do that
...
in
here
...
”

Thoughts of straddling him in a hospital bed began flooding my perverted brain.

I could blame baby hormones for that too, right?

I think he knew we couldn’t but it didn’t stop the pout he gave me before he muttered an, “I know.”

“Soon
...
I promise.” I pulled back away from him. “You need to heal first.” I leaned in placing another chaste kiss on his lips. He once again tried for more.

Both of us jumped when the door to his room opened—Jameson winced in pain.

“Now, now
...
that’s how you knocked her up in the first place.” Spencer laughed at his weak joke before him and Alley barged in.

“Can’t you put him on the do not let in list or something?” Jameson asked me quietly. His eyes drooping even more, he was fighting to stay awake.

I realized how inappropriate our position looked so I cautiously removed myself from the bed albeit against Jameson’s struggles to keep me with him. He settled for me holding his hand.

“We won’t stay long.” Alley assured me. Jameson’s eyes were already closing. “We just wanted to say goodbye, we have to go pickup Lane at my mom’s.”

Jameson’s eyes opened briefly when Spencer leaned down and whispered in his ear. His mouth twisted into a faint smile as Spencer ruffled his hair carefully.

Once they left he fell asleep quickly.

When he woke up the next morning for surgery, he was grumpy.

Actually, he was pissed, that was a better word to describe his mood. His pillows weren’t fluffy enough, he was cold, he was uncomfortable and he was hungry. He was acting like a goddamn child is what he was doing.

When the nurses left, he admitted he was also incredibly horny and wanted to be alone with me, while I gave him a sponge bath.

His words, not mine.

Believe me
...
after seeing the way pussycat doll ogled his body during his physical exams, I was happy to be the one he was requesting do his sponge baths.

Jameson’s biggest concern was naturally, getting back to racing.

It was a huge relief to hear his doctor say that he didn’t see any reason why he wouldn’t be back to racing in three weeks.

Once he heard that news, it was all he could think about. He was anxious and impatient to get out of here and prove he could still race after a crash like that. We were all aware of the sheer amount of work it would take to get back out on the track but I’d never met anyone as determined as Jameson.

When he really wanted something, he didn’t let anything stand in his way. The punctured lung concerned him, but it was already healing nicely. He felt better when the doctors told him that a number of professional athletes had collapsed lungs during their careers and went on with no ill effect. The broken ribs caused him untold amounts of pain though, especially since he couldn’t resist pushing his limits. It was his nature.

That afternoon, after his outburst for pretty much everything, his head turned towards me, sunlight from the window sparking in his green eyes. “I love you.” Jameson whispered as I stood beside his bed. His good hand came up and touched my stomach gently. He smiled. I ran my hand against his jaw, the clear light coming in showed every bruise, bump and cut.

It also showed stress, tension, and worry. His physical wounds were healing but there was something hidden deep within I knew he wasn’t reveling to me or anyone.  

The days following Jameson’s surgery for his wrist were for lack of a better description, a cluster fuck.

It was now Wednesday and the decision needed to be made who would step in for Jameson during the Watkins Glen race. Jameson wanted Justin West, one of the guys that raced his sprint car on the World of Outlaws tour, to step in. The only problem was Justin could only make Watkins Glen race without interfering with the World of Outlaws schedule.

The doctors indicated the hole in his lung was healing, which meant the air escaping was slowly decreasing but he still wasn’t healed. This meant he needed to find a driver for Michigan and possibly Bristol before he could pass the physical NASCAR required.

His room was constantly filled with doctors, the pussycat doll, reporters, police detectives, Melissa and Marcus made a visit. Randy, Jameson’s uncle even came by.

All of this pissed Jameson off. You’d think he would be happy all these people were there to see him, but no, all my dirty heathen could think about was sex
...
and more importantly
...
sex with me.

Every time someone left the room, he was back to molesting me with lingering touches, inappropriate kisses, and constantly whispering all the naughty things he wanted to do to me.

I was in pigizzle heaven. I was where a pigizzle went to die a blissful death, surrounded by my dirty heathen.

I was afraid he was going to hurt himself with the way he would pull me against him but that never stopped him.

At one point, I even tried threatening him. “I’ll call the nurse and have you sedated if you can’t settle down.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” he challenged.

“Behave then.”

Jameson groaned running his hand through his hair. “Fuck Sway
...
it’s been two goddamn weeks since I had any sort of stimulation down there. Three if you can’t anything other than my own hand.” His eyes showed panic. “I’m going to go insane.”

I giggled. “You’re adorable.”

“Shut up.” He snapped and continued to pout picking at his cast. “I’d settle for some micro polishing
...
” he suggested south with lazy nod letting his voice get that particular drawl to it that he knew would leave me weak.

“Jameson, no
...
you’re injured
...
badly.” I objected with a slight smile. “There’s no way I’m doing anything besides kiss you while you’re in this hospital.”

“So
...
no chance of a bleeding my pressure valve either
...
” he gave me the sad puppy dog eyes.

“Jesus Christ
...
no!”

“This is ridiculous. I’m injured.” He roughly pointed this out as though I didn’t know. “You should be taking care of me.”