Dirty Thoughts

by Megan Erickson

  There it was. Cal didn’t see the point in continuing this when they wanted drastically different futures. Love hadn’t been enough then, and it wouldn’t be enough now.

  Jenna eyes widened. “Are you kidding me right now?”

  “No, I don’t want—”

  “Stop.” She held her hand up, and he clamped his mouth shut. She crossed her arms over her chest, and her hazel eyes blazed up at him. “What the hell do you think? I came back here to find a guy ASAP and pop out some kids?”

  He clenched his jaw. “You said—”

  “I know what I said, but damn, if I’d known you’d take it so literally, I never would have said it.”

  “Well, do you want to get married and have kids?”

  Her mouth opened, then closed, then opened again.

  “See?” he demanded.

  “I didn’t say anything yet!” She straightened her fists at her sides.

  He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “This is why I tried to avoid this in the tow truck that night. Well, that and the fact that I didn’t want to fuck you for the first time in ten years in a fucking tow truck.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Okay, so to be honest, yes, I want kids. But I want a family, not a sperm donor. I want to find the love of my life and marry him and then kids . . . well . . . hopefully they come next. But I’m not watching my biological clock and biting my nails. I didn’t even have any intention of dating anytime soon, but you have a way of always messing with my plans, don’t you?”

  That was a low blow, the reference to their plans to stay together. He flinched. And she did too. “Shit, Cal, I didn’t mean it that way.”

  He turned away from her, not wanting to look into those eyes anymore. “Nah, you did. And it’s okay. I know I messed up the best plan I’d ever made.”

  She laid a hand on his bare back and slid it around his waist. Her other arm did the same, until she was hugging him from behind, her face pressed against the ridges of his spine. He was lost in thought until her voice said softly, “You don’t want kids?”

  “Been there, done that.”

  She paused. “You mean Max and Brent?”

  Yeah, he meant them. He meant the messed-up family that they’d somehow managed to keep together with duct tape, car grease, and a prayer. They were all present, accounted for, and healthy, even if Max’d had a scary run-in with a couple of muggers on his college campus a couple of years ago. They’d put him in the hospital and scared Cal out of his mind.

  Cal had raised his brothers. He couldn’t abandon them like everyone else did. They were his. His family. His flesh and blood. So he did the best he could and took care of them—when he still needed caring for himself.

  He sighed. “I already raised a family. Don’t wanna get married and do it all over again. Filled my lifetime quota, I think. I like being responsible for myself, and that’s it.”

  Her fingers played on his stomach. “You didn’t always feel that way.”

  He didn’t want the same things anymore. He wanted nothing more to do with that kid who’d had big dreams of a career, with Jenna and their family. “I don’t want what you want, Jenna.”

  Her hair brushed along his skin as she moved her head, and he closed his eyes, relishing the heat of her body against his. She didn’t deny it, because she’d already told him how she felt. So that was that. Impasse.

  He could have let it go, but Jenna’s presence always made him spill his guts. He needed her to understand. He needed her to believe why he felt this strongly. “Did I tell you Max got attacked and put in the hospital?”

  She shifted around his body so she stood in front of him. “What?”

  “Last year he was in college, some assholes were assaulting and robbing people. They had a gun when they got him, whipped him in the back of the head. He got away because he’s a fucking hero and called the police before collapsing.”

  She gasped. “Oh my God.”

  “He’s fine now. You saw him. He’s happy. Engaged. But I swear to God, that took five years off of my life when I got that phone call and then another ten when I saw him in that hospital with a bandage on his head.”

  She wrapped her fingers around his forearm and squeezed. “I’m so sorry.”

  “So I know it may seem stupid to you, or . . . I don’t know . . . immature or something. But I have rules for me. It’s how I’ve lived for the past ten years, and I know it’s what works.”

  She opened her mouth, but he shook his head. “Wish I could change, but I just don’t think I can. Got enough people in my life right now that I worry about all the time. My dad and Max and Brent. I’m going to worry about you too now, even when this is over. I can’t help that, because you’re Jenna. But I can help putting myself into an early grave by taking on you and everything that would come with you.”

  She frowned. “I don’t want you to change. And what do you mean, take me on? I’m not a project. You get back what you put into it. You think I wouldn’t worry and be responsible for you too?” Her voice softened. “A relationship is give-and-take. It’s not all on your shoulders.”

  He looked away, unable to see the hurt on her face. He didn’t believe that. It’d been a long time since he’d felt like he was given anything. And that was fine; he wasn’t bitching about it. But he wasn’t throwing more of himself into anyone else either. He turned to walk back into the house.

  “So that’s the end of the conversation?” Jenna asked, her voice steady and a little hard. “You’re just gonna walk away—”

  He whirled to face her. “I don’t have anything left!” His voice came out louder than he meant it, and her head snapped like he’d slapped her. He took a deep breath and counted to ten before he spoke again, keeping his tone low. “I’m tapped out. Drained dry. I’m not who I was back when we were together. And I’m sorry for that. I truly am. Wish I could be more, and I wish I could do this with you, but I can’t.”

  Her eyes blinked rapidly, but he saw no tears. She swallowed and lifted her chin. “I don’t believe that.”

  “Well—”

  “I don’t believe you’re done for life. I think you can be recharged. I think someone has to show you that she can put in as much as she takes out.”

  He looked away.

  “Is that how you think we were?” Her voice was soft, inquisitive. She wanted an honest answer. “Do you think I took and took from you?”

  He stared out the window to the backyard and shook his head. “No, I think I took and took from you. Until you wised up and left me, like everyone knew you would.”

  “Cal—”

  He turned to her. “You’re back, and you’re still shining, and that’s the way it should be.”

  “So why’d you come here tonight?”

  He hesitated, and then gave the only answer that he could. “Because after seeing you in that restaurant, I couldn’t imagine being anywhere but here.” Her face softened, and he shook his head. “But I shouldn’t have. Selfish of me to—”

  “I’m a big girl. I let you in that door. I could have said no.”

  He rolled his jaw. “Yes, you could have.”

  They both stared at each other, until she spoke again. “So that’s it?”

  “Don’t know what else to say about it.”

  She stopped talking then and looked at him with eyes a little sad, a little regretful. He wished he knew what she regretted. Ever meeting him? Letting him into the house tonight? He guessed it didn’t really matter. He should probably go now—gather what self-respect he had and get on his motorcycle and return to where he came from.

  Jenna shook her head and took a deep breath, gathering herself in front of his eyes, something he admired, because he needed privacy, ten minutes, and a cigarette to pull himself together.

  Jenna needed ten seconds and a toss of her hair. And then she smiled, even though it trembled a little. “Are you hungry?”

  That was the last thing he expected her to say, so he paused before answering slowl
y. “Sure.”

  And then, with the ends of her robe brushing his legs, she grabbed his hand and led him back into the house.

  Chapter Eleven

  THEY ATE CORN Pops and Honey Smacks on the floor of her living room. Cal leaned against the couch, and Jenna sat cross-legged on the floor.

  They’d done this so many times in high school, she could barely count. She’d lied a lot back then, telling her parents she was spending the night at Delilah’s, when really, she was at Cal’s. His dad didn’t care when he’d stumbled out of his bedroom in the middle of the night to pee and caught them cuddling on the couch with bowls of cereal on their laps.

  She didn’t know what it was about cereal, but if she was having trouble falling asleep, all she needed was a bowl of carbs and milk, and she’d sleep like a baby. Of course, she’d always slept the best in Cal’s arms.

  Cal had finished his cereal, and the bowl sat on the coffee table. His legs were bent, wrists braced on his knees. His head was leaned back on the couch seat behind him, but his eyes were on her. He was still barefoot and shirtless, wearing the pair of old jeans he hadn’t even bothered to button.

  She didn’t know what happened now. Their visions for the future were so different. Cal was resigned to a life of bachelorhood, and she wanted a life partner, a family.

  It pained her to see how much his vision of the future had changed. At one time, that had been all they talked about, making a life together in Tory. Sure, they’d been eighteen, but they’d meant every word. She was sure of it.

  And now, Cal couldn’t be more adamant that he was fine with a life of bachelorhood. She didn’t think it was necessary to have marriage and a family to be happy, but Cal had always been so family-oriented. And he’d talked all the time about starting a family with her. It’d been the one thing that was sure to put him in a good mood.

  Their connection was still white-hot, but they were going to douse it in a bucket of ice themselves. Again. Was it possible there was another man out there who would make her want and feel and crave as strongly as Cal did?

  Maybe that wasn’t in the cards for her. She’d meet a nice man—husband and father material—who wasn’t grumbly and wasn’t stubborn. Hopefully, he’d still like to eat cereal in the middle of the night.

  This didn’t feel like enough, this time they’d had, half of it discussing the past and the future they’d never have. She wanted to live in the moment, the present, and enjoy a little time with Cal where they weren’t reminded of all the reasons they couldn’t be together.

  “Do you have plans tomorrow?” she asked.

  Cal’s head slowly tilted forward until he pierced her with those slate eyes. His gaze flicked to clock overhead and then back to her. “Do you mean today?”

  “Right, today, Saturday. You know what I mean.”

  “No, I don’t have plans on Saturday.”

  “So spend the day with me,” she blurted.

  He didn’t react.

  “Just a day, Cal. A day where we don’t think about everything we had and everything we could have, but we just . . . enjoy the now.” He opened his mouth, but she cut him off. “I’m glad you told me what you did, about not wanting a family, rather than let us go on and raise my hopes. So all I’m asking for is a day. And then . . . that’s it. We’ll move on and coexist in Tory and that will be that. We’ll remain history.” Her voice cracked on the last word. He must have heard it, because he flinched slightly. His jaw tensed, the muscles moving beneath this skin.

  He was silent for so long, she wondered if he’d fallen asleep with his eyes open. And just when she thought about reneging on the whole offer, he said quietly, “Okay, I’d like that.”

  So this was it. And while this attraction was still hot between them—hotter than ever—that didn’t seem like it was enough anymore. They were two separate people who wanted two separate things.

  But for now, for one day, they’d want the same things.

  Jenna crawled toward Cal. He unclasped his hands and let his knees spread farther apart so she could wedge herself between them.

  Cal’s tan was uneven, a little redneck. But he’d always looked like that. This was Cal, a guy who didn’t give a shit about tan lines while he was bent over the hood of his car.

  She ran her fingers over that tattoo. Damn him. She’d almost swallowed her tongue when she’d seen it. “Were you angry when you got this?”

  The dim light in the room made his pale eyes glow. “No.” He paused for a minute, and she knew he was sorting the words out in his head, in that way he had. Cal didn’t like to start talking until he knew exactly what was going to come out. “I was lonely and drunk.”

  “Cal,” she whispered.

  “It’s done, and I don’t regret it.”

  “It’s hot,” she admitted.

  His laugh was husky. “Glad you think so.”

  She ran her hands over his skin, feeling the imperfections, the scars from high school football and accidents at the garage. Cal was so different than a lot of the polished executives she’d dated in New York.

  Cal was . . . real.

  Her hands drifted down to the open button of his pants. She lowered the zipper, and Cal’s stomach expanded and contracted as he took deep breaths. She wiggled down onto her hands and knees and then peered up at Cal. He was watching her with narrowed eyes.

  “You didn’t let me finish earlier,” she said, pulling out his shaft and stroking it slowly.

  He shifted his body lower and his lips twitched. “I’ll be a gentleman and let you finish now.”

  She opened her mouth and took him in. He grunted softly above her, and his hand rested on the back of her neck. But he didn’t push, and she took her time, opening her jaws wide to take him in as much as she could and then sucked hard as she pulled off his shaft. She swirled her tongue around the head and performed every single trick she knew—most of them learned from Delilah.

  A lot of girls complained about giving head, but Jenna wasn’t one of them—if it was a guy she really wanted to give pleasure. She thought of it as a gift. Something she wanted to give, but she wasn’t up for giving it out to anybody, because hell, blow jobs were work.

  But Cal? She’d suck Cal for all he was worth. She intended to suck his brain out through his dick until he was half comatose, and if the writhing of his hips and soft curses were any indication, she was doing a hell of a job of achieving her goal.

  And Jenna MacMillan had always been an overachiever.

  She took a breath, opened wide, and took him down the back of her throat, swallowing around the head of his cock.

  Cal came on a gasp and her name, shooting his release on her tongue.

  Jenna rose to the sight of Cal’s head thrown back on the couch cushions, his eyes closed. She leaned against his chest and curled her arms around his neck. He didn’t move. He didn’t hug her. A small moan escaped his lips. She grinned against his skin. “You okay?” He didn’t answer her right away, and she began to giggle. “Cal?”

  “I need . . . a minute,” he croaked.

  She laughed harder. “Wow, it must have been a really bad blow job if you can’t even face me afterward. I’ll make sure not to wake you up with one tomorrow or anything.”

  His head shot up. His eyes were glassy and a little unfocused. “What? Wait, what? You’ll do that?”

  “Well, if it was bad, then—”

  He grabbed her head and smashed his lips into hers, licking into her mouth, tangling his tongue with hers. He pulled out of the kiss and rested his forehead against hers. “Best I ever had.”

  “Yeah?”

  He leaned back so he could look her in the eye. “Well, actually, my high school girlfriend was really good at that.”

  Jenna huffed. “Oh yeah? Where is she, so I can go beat her up?”

  Cal’s smile slowly faded, but his features remained soft. “Ah, no need to do that. Didn’t know it was possible, but I like you more.”

  Damn Cal and his honesty. His f
ingers teased the edges of her robe.

  She shook her head. “How about we go to bed, because I’m about to fall asleep on my feet, and you owe me tomorrow.”

  His grin returned. “I owe you, huh?”

  She nodded.

  “Sounds like a win-win for everyone.”

  Jenna rolled her eyes and stood up. She reached for the cereal bowls, but Cal pulled up his pants and beat her to it. “You go on up. I’ll take care of these, lock the door, and turn out the lights, okay?”

  “Sounds perfect.” And as Jenna walked up the stairs to the bedroom, she realized how domestic it all sounded.

  She wondered if Cal had noticed. She wondered if he liked it.

  CAL WAS HOT. He didn’t remember ever waking up and it being this hot. He had central air conditioning, and he didn’t have a damn dog. He was serious about that “not being responsible for another living thing” vow.

  He inhaled and immediately smelled Jenna. His eyes popped open. He was lying on his side, his arm slung around a female waist, and her head was tucked right under his chin, brunette hair in a mass of waves on white sheets. And then he remembered—he was in Jenna’s house.

  He told himself to pull away, to roll out of the bed and walk away, but his body wasn’t dumb. It was warm, and he had a naked woman pressed against him. A naked Jenna. This—he could get used to this. But this would lead to that and the other thing or a couple of things and family and no. Just no. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t do this—that a life of bachelorhood was fine, and he’d dote on nieces and nephews.

  But as her warmth seeped into his skin, he cursed himself. Because even though he couldn’t give her a wedding or kids or anything long term—hell, he didn’t even want to promise her Labor Day—he wanted her, needed her, for a little bit longer. He knew it would probably only increase the pain when this ended, but he was going to focus on instant gratification now and forget about next week. Because now, he had Jenna in his arms, her scent on his skin, and he wanted her there a little bit longer.

  This had always been good between them. So he was glad they had one more day together. And it was still the morning. His dick was hard, pressing into the cleft of her ass. He had to grit his teeth not to thrust like an animal until he came all over the small of her back.