Dirty Thoughts

by Megan Erickson

  Good morning! I rutted against you while you were asleep. Sorry about that.

  Plus, he owed her.

  He grinned to himself and fanned his hand out on her stomach. She was waking up now, making small snuffling sounds. He nuzzled down to kiss behind her ear. She lifted her shoulder and made a sound of protest, because she was ticklish as hell. He always had to warm her up, because if she wasn’t turned on, all she would do was giggle whenever he touched her. So he needed to work harder until she was aroused and no longer ticklish.

  He slid his hand lower, until his little finger touched the top of the curls between her legs. She shifted her thighs restlessly and made a small whimper at the back of her throat.

  When he ran his nose along the shell of her ear, she shivered. He trailed his fingers up her stomach to her breasts, flicking a thumb over her peaked nipples. She moaned his name and pushed her butt back into his groin.

  He lowered his head to her neck and placed open-mouthed kisses on her skin. She didn’t giggle or shy away, and he smiled, because she was ready now.

  He lowered his hand again and dipped a middle finger into her slit, sliding it through the wetness. “Oh God,” she said and curled an arm around his head, her hand clutching his hair.

  “Give me some room,” he ordered. And she did, immediately, separating her thighs by hooking one leg behind his.

  And then, it was easy to work her. He dipped two fingers inside of her, plunging them in and out, while his thumb worked her clit. She gripped his hair harder and panted, riding his fingers. She had no inhibitions when she got going, no self-consciousness about how she looked or the sounds she was making. She just let go.

  Her breasts rocked with their movements, and he could stare at them all day, those rosy nipples begging for his mouth. Later, he thought. He still had the rest of the day.

  When she came, she came hard, crying out his name, grinding herself down onto his fingers. He left them in as the orgasm slowed, rubbing slightly until she angled her hips so they slipped out. Her hand that gripped his hair fell to the bed in front of her. “Jesus, Cal.”

  Then she reached forward, opened up a drawer, and pulled out a condom. She opened the wrapper and handed it to him over her shoulder.

  He didn’t question it. He slipped it on, rolled her onto her stomach, and kneeled between her legs. He opened her up wide with his knees and entered her from behind.

  She bit her pillow as he thrust in and out of her sensitive flesh. He was so wound up from watching her come all over his hand that it didn’t take long. He raised himself up on his hands and watched her face where it was turned so the light from the window highlighted her features.

  He let his gaze fall, taking in her narrow waist and full hips. He loved those hips, and if he had the energy, he would have pulled her up onto her knees, gripped her ass, and rode her hard. What a fucking view.

  He’d save it for later.

  But even the thought had his balls drawing up tight, his spine tingling, and then he was coming on a soft exhale of her name.

  He fell onto his stomach on the bed beside her. Her head was turned to face him. She was disheveled, and her face was clean of makeup, and he swore this was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

  He thought about what it would be like to wake up to her every day. Just like this, with her fresh face on the pillow next to his and her warm skin pressed against him.

  But that was a fantasyland. Still, she needed to know just how much this meant to him. He brushed her hair off her forehead and pressed a kiss to her temple, letting his lips linger there. “There’s not a cloud in the sky, but all the sunshine is right here in this bed.”

  He didn’t wait for her reply. He stood up and walked toward the bathroom.

  When he walked back out to the bedroom, he found she hadn’t moved. He crawled back under the sheets and lay beside her on his back, his arm tucked behind his head. He really wanted a cigarette, but lying with a naked Jenna won.

  “So we have today,” she said, propping her chin on a fist on his chest.

  “We have today,” he echoed.

  “It’s better that way.”

  He didn’t know who she was trying to convince. “Yeah.”

  She blew a stray piece of hair out of her face, and he helped her by smoothing the crazy strands over her head.

  “I look a little Medusa-ish, don’t I?”

  He mimed freezing to stone, stiffening his body like a board, and she laughed, plunking her forehead onto his breastbone. He pulled her up, so they laughed together against each other’s lips. She gave him a quick peck.

  “Have you ever ridden on a motorcycle?”

  She shook her head, eyes still a little lazy from sleep and sex.

  “Why don’t we pick up breakfast to-go and take a ride?”

  She cocked her head. “Where do you want to go?”

  He didn’t know if River’s Edge was off limits, since that was a place that held almost all their history, but he couldn’t think of a single other place he wanted to take Jenna on his bike. When he was silent for too long, she reached up and squeezed his neck and then let her fingers trail over his tattooed shoulder. “Why don’t we hike on one of the trails at River’s Edge?”

  “You reading my mind, Sunshine?”

  “You don’t hide your thoughts as well as you think,” she said, rising from bed. “Give me ten minutes, and I’ll be ready.”

  He watched her walk into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her. He thought he did a pretty good job of hiding what he was thinking. To everyone but Jenna.

  Chapter Twelve

  IT WAS MORE like a half hour before they were both showered, and Jenna was staring at him as he sat astride his bike. It was a hot day, but he’d still urged her to find an old leather jacket in the back of her closet. She’d loaned him an old T-shirt that was big on her, one she said she wore to bed sometimes. When he unfolded it, his breath caught, because it was his high school football T-shirt, one he remembered giving her after one of his games. She’d kept the damn thing for ten years, and the maroon fabric was faded, the lettering peeled, but he pulled it on. He was thankful he’d worn his motorcycle boots to dinner so he had them for the day.

  Cal only had one helmet, so he settled it on her head outside as they stood in the driveway. It was too big, but it’d do in a pinch. She looked cute as hell with her eyes gleaming through the face mask, her brown hair billowing out around her shoulders below it.

  He guided her onto the bike behind him, urging her to grip him tightly with her thighs and arms. Partly because it was safe and partly because he liked how it felt.

  The only other girl he’d ever had on the back of his bike was Max’s girlfriend, Lea. She’d asked for a ride, and he’d obliged, while Max stood scowling at them, his body quivering with nerves. Lea had loved it, but everything about her touch had been sisterly and platonic. Her thighs had grazed his; her little hands had stayed firmly over the top of his clothes.

  Jenna’s hands were already stealing under his shirt to touch his bare skin as he started up the engine. The rumbling cut through the humidity of the day, shaking up a crop of birds on Jenna’s front lawn. She nestled closer into his back. He’d always thought he wouldn’t like someone riding with him. Riding was something he did for himself, to get his mind off everything and just be, with the wind in his face and ruffling his clothes. But Jenna at his back felt good. Felt right.

  And he knew it was because it was her.

  He eyed her over his shoulder. She nodded, the helmet bobbing on her head. He chuckled, turned back around, and eased out of her driveway.

  He took the bike slow throughout her neighborhood, so she got used to leaning with the machine through curves.

  And then he headed right for the open stretches of road in Tory that he always did. His route was pretty damn sacred to him—not even Brent knew where he rode—but Cal wanted Jenna to share this with him. Come Monday, they’d go their separate ways, but they’d
have this memory together.

  Her fingers curled into the muscles of his stomach, her pinkies resting along the waistband of his jeans. Her thighs were tight against his, and sometimes, a lock of hair would curl around and he’d catch a whiff of her scent in his nostrils.

  They stopped at a little bakery on the outskirts of town, one that had just opened up, so the owners didn’t know them. They wouldn’t spread any gossip about Jenna MacMillan and Cal Payton riding around town on a Saturday morning.

  Tory wasn’t too small, but it was small enough that people talked. Which was why Cal had bought a house with a lot of land, so people couldn’t look out their windows and see what he was doing. Christ, he was totally a hermit bachelor.

  Jenna clutched their bag of muffins and pastries, and he secured a Thermos of coffee in his saddlebags, and they made their way to their predetermined breakfast spot.

  At River’s Edge, Cal parked his bike and cut the engine. He looked over his shoulder at Jenna, who was pulling off her helmet. She tried vainly to tame her mane, and he smirked as she huffed out a breath and pulled out a hair tie.

  “Don’t laugh at me. I’m going to shave my head.”

  He shook his head, stepped off his bike, and then helped her off. They gathered their breakfast and began to head toward the path that led to the many trails. River’s Edge was a popular state park with several walking trails running along the Tory Pine River. Cal pointed to the sign at the line that read FLANNERY TRAIL and was marked with a blue triangle. “They put a new one in a couple of years ago. There’s a little clearing just up ahead with some benches where we can eat.” When he looked at Jenna, she was biting her lip, and he knew she’d understood what he meant. Sure, he wanted to come to River’s Edge with her, but not their trail, not their place. That was a little too much of the past. And today was about the present.

  She looked at him and smiled, although it was a little strained, and nodded.

  They took off on the path, with Cal’s eyes on Jenna to make sure she didn’t slip. They’d left the leather jacket back at the bike, so she was wearing a pair of jean shorts, a T-shirt, and old black motorcycle boots.

  Cal didn’t come here often; he was busy working or taking care of his house. But with Jenna at his side and the morning sun creeping through the filter of leaves above them, he knew he probably wouldn’t be back again, no way. The whole place would remind him of Jenna now.

  He shook his head. No “future” talk. No “future” thinking. He was here with Jenna now. Today. So he grabbed her hand, accepted the warmth of the smile she shot his way, and kept on walking.

  JENNA HAD NEVER ridden on a motorcycle. At one time, she thought that would be her future. All Cal talked about as a teenager was getting a bike. It was his dream, so seeing him on the back of that red-silver-and-black beauty made her heart sing.

  He’d gotten that dream, at least. They hadn’t killed that one.

  They sat on new wooden benches in a clearing on Flannery Trail to eat. A breeze rustled through the trees, which helped break up the humid air. She sipped her coffee and picked at her cranberry and orange muffin. “I’m so glad you got your bike.”

  Cal smiled at that and crumpled the empty wrapper of his chocolate-chocolate chip muffin. “Yeah I had an older model before this that I bought cheap. I saved up for the Softail so I wouldn’t have to take a loan out. Insurance is outrageous, but it’s worth it.”

  “Do you work on them at the shop too?”

  His smile immediately twisted into something bitter. “You’d think, right?”

  She propped a knee on the bench and leaned forward. “Wait . . . so you don’t?”

  He shook his head. “My dad’s being stubborn about it.”

  “A Payton, being stubborn?” She gasped dramatically.

  He chuckled a little at that and smacked her thigh lightly. “I prefer the term decisive.”

  “So what’s going on with Jack?”

  Cal crossed his arms over his chest and squinted up at the forest canopy above them. “I want to expand Payton and Sons to repair bikes, and he’s being a stubborn bastard about it. He said he doesn’t want to change the shop.”

  “Why?”

  “Why does he do anything he does? He says he needs me for the cars. I told him Brent said we could afford another hire. But he’s so committed to the way things are, he doesn’t want to change. I went out and got the certifications to work on Harleys anyway. That was a fun fight.”

  Cal had loved bikes for so long that Jenna ached a little that he wasn’t able to do what he really wanted to do. “So what’s your plan?”

  Cal was silent for a long time. “I don’t want to leave him or Brent, but I might have to open up my own place if he keeps this up. I don’t want to stop working on cars, but this town needs a certified bike mechanic in business.”

  “There isn’t one?”

  Cal shook his head. “I think the closest one is in Brookridge.”

  Jenna frowned. “And you told your dad that?”

  “He doesn’t give a shit.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  He shrugged and waved a hand. “It is what it is. I’ll figure it out.”

  But it bothered her. A lot. And she wondered if there would ever come a time where she would no longer be emotionally invested in Cal Payton.

  “So how’s work for you?” he asked. And it didn’t feel like small talk, like he was asking as a returning favor. His eyes were focused on her, those irises a little more blue than normal in the sunshine.

  “Dylan’s a dick,” she said in reply.

  He laughed.

  She grinned at him. “Delilah still calls him Dill Pickle.”

  “With Delilah, I’m sure she says it to his face.”

  “She does. So anyway, I’m working on employee morale, since Dylan is close to running that into the grave.” Cal didn’t answer, and she eyed him. “I guess you heard about it?”

  “Brent read the newspaper articles about the lawsuit. He likes the letters to the editor, especially.”

  “Yeah, so I’m planning an event for the employees. Like a big dinner—a thank-you. Maybe hold it at the country club.”

  Cal nodded slowly. “You could get the community involved—like give away local gift certificates or get businesses to offer free services. As a way of giving back.”

  She actually hadn’t thought that far yet, but it was a great idea. “Like a raffle.”

  “Yeah. I’ll donate a free inspection or tune-up or something.”

  “Really?”

  “ ’Course.”

  She smiled. “Wow, thanks. That’s a great idea.”

  “I’m sure you would have come up with it on your own.”

  She shrugged. “Maybe, but you saved me the brainpower.”

  He laughed. “Don’t count on that happening too often, Sunshine.”

  She reached out and laced her fingers with his, squeezing, as she held her tongue so she didn’t bring up the future.

  “Did you miss Tory while you were in New York?” he asked softly, his eyes on their clasped hands.

  She thought about that. “Sometimes. I’m not sure it ever felt like home. I was kind of a long-term visitor. It was odd being back in Tory, but now that I’m here, I feel . . . more like myself again. Does that make sense?”

  He nodded slowly, his gaze still on their hands, his thumb rubbing hers. “I do think it makes sense.”

  “And the older I get, the less I feel like pretending to be something I’m not.”

  He didn’t say anything to that. His brow was furrowed, and she let him think. She took a sip of her coffee, felt the caffeine invade her system, and held Cal’s hand like this wasn’t the last day she’d get to touch him.

  Like there wasn’t a past. Like there wasn’t a future. Only today.

  Chapter Thirteen

  THEY HAD LUNCH at an ice cream place that sold burgers, two for three dollars. High school kids worked there, faces flushed from the heat and the rush
of a summer paycheck.

  The umbrella over the picnic table shielded them from the sun as they ate the greasy burgers and dipped their hand-cut fries in ketchup. Cal told Jenna about Brent’s latest hook-up, a woman who ended up being nineteen rather than the twenty-nine she’d told him, which Brent only learned about when her roommates tried to wake her up before the dining hall on the community college campus closed.

  Brent wasn’t amused.

  Cal was. And Jenna laughed.

  The Cal who sat across from her was a far cry from the tense man she’d seen at the garage that first week she’d been in town. This Cal smiled and laughed and didn’t press his lips into a thin, irritated line.

  They sat there for two hours, drinking Cokes with melted ice, as Jenna told him about the job she had in New York. He listened intently, and she believed he truly cared about her professional success. That’s what she’d missed in New York. Hell, that was what she missed now—a partner who was as invested in her life as she was.

  But as the conversation wound down, she pushed those thoughts aside. She’d be fine for a while. She knew how to be single and content. Or at least, she used to know how to be. Now, all she felt was this ache in her heart, this looming deadline when Cal would no longer be hers.

  In one day, he’d seemed to erase the confidence she had that she was over him.

  She’d never be over him, she realized. She’d have to learn to live with that.

  When they hopped back on his bike, they didn’t head toward the direction of her house, and she didn’t ask why or what or where. She wrapped her arms around his waist and burrowed against the soft fabric of her own T-shirt that covered his back, and she enjoyed the ride, the vibration under her, the scent of Cal.

  When they pulled down a dirt road, she raised her head, peering through the visor of the helmet he’d insisted she wear.

  In front of her was a small two-story wood home. Cal’s old truck sat in the driveway, and a warmth spread through her chest.