High Heels & Bicycle Wheels

by Jane Linfoot

  She clamped her eyes shut. Felt him turn her, place her back firmly against the tiles, hook up her left knee with his arm. When she opened her eyes he was still looking at her, his eyes laughing yet dark, smudged with desire. Ten seconds he’d grabbed a packet from the shower hanger, and he was sheathed and huge. He bent his knees, nudged against her. Wet, open and oh-so-ready for him, she gasped as he slid into her.

  ‘Steady. You’re so tight, I’ll go gently.’ Three thrusts. ‘There we go, you are so damned hot.’ His voice grazed her cheek, but the words washed away as he dug in and out of her, with slow, deliberate movements that sent thrusts of pure pleasure jolting through her, sending her closer to heaven with each excruciatingly amazing pulse. And then he began to move faster, building, pounding, driving. Nothing she could do, she was there.

  ‘Jackson…’ She heard her own voice in the distance, howling as the pleasure erupted through her, choked as she struggled to drag in her breath. Through blurry lashes she saw him throw back his head, as she contracted onto him in a series of convulsions. He gave a final push, then the force of his release blasted into her, and his guttural groan echoed off the tiles.

  An hour, and a whole heap of mind-blowing orgasms later, Jackson finally turned off the water. He’d had Cherry down as hot, now he’d revised that to super-heated. The way she turned him on she needed to come with a health warning. Something about her honesty and enthusiasm was so different from anything he’d encountered before. Put together with her own explosive sexuality, a need that seemed to border on desperate, and that oh-so-curvy body, she pushed him over the edge and beyond every time.

  ‘Towel, Jackson?’ She came towards him.

  ‘Thanks.’ Just for a moment the shine in her eyes made his stomach falter. Then, she draped the towel across his back and rested a hand on his shoulder. He shivered as she gently ran her finger, hardly touching, over his scars.

  ‘Some of these look so sore, you’re like a human patchwork. Did we stay in the shower too long?’

  ‘I’m pretty much one enormous scar. I’ve got so many pins and plates I lost count, and that’s before you get to the gravel-rash.’ He gave a laugh. ‘I’m a surgeon’s nightmare – my scars stay red for ages.’

  ‘So the red ones are recent? But there are so many!’

  ‘Yep, they’re all from the last crash.’

  ‘It must have been bad.’

  Not mentioning the scars on the inside. That those were the worst ones. The ones that turned his insides sour every time he thought about the damned accident.

  He gave a shrug. ‘Crashes happen, they’re part of the sport. Mostly you bounce, this time I was unlucky. It cost me the London Games. I’ve won medals before, but these ones would have been special. A home Games comes once in a lifetime.’ One soft woman, her warm breath on his chest, her touch feather-light, making it all seem far away. ‘Worst of all, it was my brother, Connor, who took me out. The bad man in me thinks he did it deliberately. He’s always been snapping at my heels, now he’s the one winning.’

  ‘Poor boy.’ She began to spread a line of light kisses along each scar. ‘So that’s why you wouldn’t talk about it.’ She carried on, descended to his hip, then slid along his thigh to his knee. ‘It’s eating you up, isn’t it?’

  ‘You might be right there, Cherry.’ And why the heck had he cracked and told her?

  ‘I read that you and Connor didn’t speak. Do you really think it was deliberate?’

  ‘In my sane moments I know it wasn’t.’ Alone and angry and hurting in the night was something else entirely.

  ‘Didn’t you used to be close?’ She was pushing him, and just for once he didn’t even care.

  ‘When my mother left, we were thrown together.’ No way was he opening that can of worms. Three brothers, and the battering hurricane that was his dad. All the sweet, feathery kisses in the world couldn’t heal that hurt. ‘But that’s another story.’

  ‘Maybe you need to talk to Connor.’ She was squatting in front of him now, face upturned, all eager and optimistic and hopeful. Way too good for a bad guy like him. ‘Clearing the air would make you feel better.’

  ‘We’ll see, Cherry Bomb. I’ll think about it.’

  ‘I think it would make you feel better.’ She stretched to pick up the discarded condoms which were lying at the shower edge. ‘I may as well take these.’ She sauntered out across the bedroom, dropped them into a tissue, and tossed them in the bin.

  ‘Hang on, I didn’t check them.’

  ‘Check as in?’ She sent him a blank stare.

  ‘For rips – always a good idea.’

  ‘You do that? Sorry I didn’t know…’

  And why would she? Something about the hunger in her told him she hadn’t seen a condom in years. And something else in him told him he liked that. A lot. Not that he had any right at all to feel that way. But hang on. He pulled himself up short. When she was bigging herself up as the ideal short-term bet, hadn’t she mentioned an ex? Inexplicably, that thought sent an unscheduled stab of jealousy through his chest. She’d neatly dodged his probing at the time, which was why he was in the dark now. But far from being hang-out-the-flags good news it should have been, the thought that she might still be emotionally attached to someone else, made his blood run cold. He was in the process of awarding himself the hypocrite of the century award when an image floated by, of another morning, another shower. Another condom he’d walked out on, just north of Scarborough, leaving Cherry Bomb to do the checking. Dammit. He gave a sigh, and pushed it out of his mind. Too late to do anything about that one now. As he looked up his gaze landed on Cherry, across the bedroom, climbing into what had to be the sexiest knickers on the planet.

  He knotted the towel around his waist. No point getting dressed. From the way things were rising, he wouldn’t be needing clothes again for quite some time.

  Chapter 30

  Early on Sunday morning, Bryony pushed her way into the kitchen, hit the fridge, sloshed juice into a glass, and hurriedly filled up the coffee maker, ready for when Jackson came back from his ride.

  She’d fallen into a deep after-sex slumber when he’d slipped away round five o’clock. In fact, after-sex sleep was the only kind she’d had the last few days, which was possibly why she was so bleary now; but she’d forced herself out of bed, knowing there was a long day ahead, with a two hour drive across to Padstowe, where they were going to sort out a ride feature on the famous Camel Trail. Eighteen miles of off-road track, perfect for cyclists. And more fool her for agreeing to do it whilst riding on a tandem.

  When the alarm had roused her earlier, despite the fact she rarely dreamed, she’d been in the middle of a particularly vivid dream she was still shaking her head about. Even as she reached for her laptop now, thinking to check her mail before Jackson came back, the images had her shivering. She’d dreamed she was on a tropical beach, dressed as a mermaid, being a bridesmaid for Matt and Tia, who were dressed as Captain Hook and Snow White. She kept telling people she was the wrong person for the job, but no one would listen. Then the ceremony started and Tia was there looking all elfin and petite and beautiful, just like she had on the engagement pictures on Facebook. But when the happy couple turned round to face her, it wasn’t Matt at all – it was Jackson with Tia, and Bryony had woken up shouting. Although, maybe she’d just been shouting at the alarm.

  No wonder her head was thumping. That would teach her to watch Disney movies in bed. She took a swig of juice, opened her email, and began flipping through her in box. She looked at some cute pictures of the kids that Shea had sent. Brando was still keeping in touch daily, but at least he was using more subtle means. She flipped through a few more, and did a double-take when she came to an email from Matt’s sister, her best friend Claire. How weird was that? Okay, not so weird, given they’d been emailing regularly since she’d visited Claire recently, but still. She clicked it open.

  Bry, I know you said you were off to work along the south coast. Just found o
ut Matt is down in Cornwall for the weekend. It’s a big place, but I thought I’d flag it up, just in case. Hugs, Claire xx

  Bryony let out a sigh, and mused on how unnerving it was when dreams pre-empted real life. Typically thoughtful of Claire, trying to save her the shock of stumbling unprepared, across the unrequited love of her life, and his lovely new wife, given she was still reeling at the shock of Matt getting together with anyone at all. Bryony had no idea which was worse – was it tougher that Matt and Tia had met, fallen in love, got engaged, and married, all within a mere three months, or would a long drawn out courtship and engagement have been harder to bear, more difficult for her to watch? As it was, Bryony knew it had hurt a lot. At the time she’d felt as if the bottom had fallen out of her world, which was slightly unjustified as Matt hadn’t been a substantial part of it anyway. He’d never reached any more than vague hope status really. And she had to admit that the past few days here had blasted a lot of things off her radar, not just the Matt and Tia issue. She still didn’t want to run slap bang into them though. At least now she could keep a look out, and take avoiding action if necessary – not that it was likely to happen. As Claire said, Cornwall was vast, and even if Matt was the outdoor sporty type, hell would freeze over before a girl like Tia would even be seen dead on a bike on the Camel Trail, which was where Bryony was destined to spend her whole day.

  Great to get the heads up from Claire, but Bryony really had no spare time to worry about this – she was far too busy worrying about how she was going to get on, back on a hire tandem with Jackson.

  Bryony thought she knew what today’s plans were, but it turned out that Jackson had added a few extra details. When they arrived at Bodmin there was already a tandem waiting, courtesy of the local Jackson Gale Cycling shop.

  ‘One of my stores is nearby, we might as well have a nice bike to ride. Those hire bikes are pretty heavy.’ Jackson was full of excuses for his takeover of arrangements. ‘It’s got nice flat pedals so you can ride in your Converse, and it’s even got panniers, so you can stash your iPad and your lippy.’ He sent her a grin as he wheeled the tandem across the car park. ‘It’s a good bike, but I promise, we’ll take it slowly, and the trail is pretty level; it’s mostly along disused railway line.’

  ‘It was supposed to be level last time.’ Bryony gave a groan, as she stowed her things in the side bags and climbed on. ‘Okay, I’ve got enough pictures of the start here, so I guess we’re good to go.’

  ‘We’re going from Bodmin to Padstowe, rather than the way you’d planned because that way we’ll get the surprise view of the sea, and we get to ride across the old railway bridge that crosses Petherick Creek, then along the estuary towards the town at the end. It’s all very picturesque, lots of great shots. It’s about ten miles; we can stop for lunch half-way in Wadebridge.’

  ‘Great.’ She’d had no idea Jackson was going to change the day like this. ‘What about the ride back?’ He seemed to know what he was talking about, but this was diverting a long way from what they’d discussed yesterday, which…well it hardly mattered what she thought any more.

  He fiddled with his saddle, then got on. ‘I decided by the time we’ve stopped to take pictures and make notes, ten miles might take all day, so I’ve arranged for us to be picked up in Padstowe.’ He cocked a glance over his shoulder at her. ‘All ready? One two three go…’

  No time to argue, the next thing she knew they were away, and the breeze was brushing gently past her face as they swerved to avoid a bike pulling a trailer full of squealing children.

  She pushed an escaping strand of hair behind her helmet strap. ‘It’s quite busy isn’t it?’

  ‘Lots of families use the trail.’ He steered past a zig-zagging youngster. ‘It’s important that we include rides for everyone on the Sporting Chances features. In fact, when we shoot this we should definitely ride with one of those kiddy trailers on the back to emphasise the family angle.’ He tossed a grin at her over his shoulder. ‘Any of your settled mates got some kids we could borrow?’

  ‘What? I draw the line at rent-a-child.’ The thought of her and Jackson pretending to be a family had her stomach disappearing. ‘But I take your point. Many more ideas like that, you’ll be taking over my job.’

  ‘Well now you mention it, it might be good to schedule so we film here mid-week when it‘s quieter. Plus, the sky and the sea turn azure-blue when it’s sunny, so we need to organise that we film on a good day too.’ One more full-blown smile delivered from him in the nick of time stopped her hitting him on the backside for being a know-all. ‘We used to come here all the time for holidays as kids. That’s why I’m such a mine of information.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘My mother used to come here as a child.’ But that was all he’d volunteer. Despite her concerted efforts, he wouldn’t be drawn further on anything to do with his mother.

  As the day progressed it seemed Jackson was more than living up to her earlier joke. He was so familiar with the trail, he warned her in advance of every potential shot, and provided a running commentary of information for her to note down whenever they stopped. So much so, that they made brilliant progress. He’d even booked a table for lunch at an old pub in Wadebridge. As Jackson pulled over without any prompt from her later that afternoon, at yet another perfect vantage point Bryony couldn’t help protesting mildly.

  ‘I feel pretty superfluous today.’

  ‘Not at all, you’ve done way more than me other days; this is just me doing my share when we’re somewhere I know. I reckon overall we’re a pretty good team…unlike these people coming.’ He raised an eyebrow and nodded towards an approaching tandem. Even from fifty yards away the squawks of the couple on board, who appeared to be having a full-blown argument, carried on the wind.

  ‘Oh dear.’ Bryony wrinkled her nose. ‘How awful to be yelling at each other like that when you’re supposed to be enjoying yourselves. At least I only howled.’ As the tandem came closer she clocked something strangely familiar about the forehead of the guy on the front, who was bowing over the handle bars. As the tandem wobbled past them they were blasted with a mix of strong perfume, bright flowery dress and loud complaint. Beneath the cycle helmet of the woman on the back Bryony clocked a very elfin, yet very unhappy face. Surely not… ‘Tia…?’ What the heck? It was too… ‘Matt…?’

  But a gust whipped her words away, and before she had time to shout again, they’d passed and were gone.

  ‘Somebody isn’t happy.’ Jackson shook his head and gave a laugh, his T-shirt flapping against his body. ‘Did you say something?’

  For a moment she was concentrating on the glimpse of Jackson’s tanned toned torso. She pulled herself together, sounding doubtful, not quite believing what she’d seen going by. ‘Oh no, I think I might know those people who were shouting …’

  She’d so wanted Matt for herself, loved him conveniently from afar for so long, been so shocked when he was getting married, yet she really didn’t want him to end up unhappy.

  ‘Probably best to leave them to their argument.’ Jackson gave a laugh. ‘Some people just aren’t made to ride tandems together, are they?’

  ‘Getting on together on a tandem isn’t always easy though, is it, Jackson? If anyone knows that, we do.’

  Jackson didn’t seem to hear that comment. He simply looked at his watch. ‘We’re running behind schedule. Come on Cherry. Get pedalling. I’ll race you into Padstowe.’

  Chapter 31

  As promised, the van emblazoned with Jackson Gale Cycling shop signage was waiting for them in the car park at the trail end.

  ‘I thought you’d organised a lift, not a publicity event,’ Bryony teased as they approached it. ‘Only joking. My bum’s aching so much I’d gladly hitch a ride on a rubbish cart if necessary.’

  Jackson noticed the dark circles under her eyes, and hoped the ride hadn’t been too much for her. He did a double-take as the driver of the van jumped out as they approached and he recognised his brot
her Nic.

  ‘Nic, great to see you. What are you doing here?’ Jackson wasn’t sure he’d have chosen to expose Bryony to any of his family, although, of all of them, Nic was the best.

  ‘I was down for a meeting tomorrow and the guys at the store mentioned you needed a lift, so I grabbed the van. I thought I’d do the honours.’

  ‘Cherry, this is my brother, Nic. He’s the business brain of the family.’ He cringed at lumping good old Nic in with that collective noun, given the disaster area that the rest of his family was. ‘Unfortunately, the athletic genes passed Nic by … Nic, meet Bryony. Bryony is in charge of everything to do with Sporting Chances, and I’m included in that remit too.’

  Nic cocked one eyebrow in disbelief at that last statement. ‘Hi Bryony, great to meet you. Jackson’s a dark horse. If he’d only said, we could have met up for lunch.’ He gave an easy laugh, patted his belly as if to emphasise his lack of fitness and extended his hand towards Bryony. ‘Connor and Jackson are the sporty guys, who look like our dad, and I’m the non-athlete, who looks like our mum.’

  The mention of their mother made Jackson start. He’d shut her so completely out of his life after she’d left; it was a shock to hear her spoken about so nonchalantly. He assumed Nic, being more easygoing and more forgiving, must be in touch if he was mentioning her so casually. As far as Jackson was concerned, his mother had chosen to abandon the family and she deserved to be cut off.

  ‘Throw the tandem in the back, jump in and we’ll get going.’ Nic might be laid back, but he could get things moving when he wanted. Five minutes later they were bouncing across the car park.

  ‘This so-called dark horse had no idea you were coming down. If only you’d said……’ Jackson gave a guffaw, to cover that he probably wouldn’t have arranged anything, anyway. Right now he wanted to keep Cherry all to himself. He stretched an arm out along the back of the bench seat, dropped it onto her shoulder and pulled her towards him a little. They didn’t have that long, and the days were flying by.