by Sahara Kelly
Steve stared steadily back at her. He believed her. Not absolutely sure he could tell when she was lying, but he didn’t think she had. She wasn’t the type. They’d been about as honest with each other as two people possibly could be.
“I’m clean, too. The first thing I did when I found out what my ex was doing was get that test. At least some good news came out of the whole thing. She might have taken just about everything, but at least she hadn’t given me anything to remember her by.”
“Okay.” Lissa slumped. “Look, I’m…”
“Yeah. I’m tired, too.” Steve turned away wearily. “Why don’t you go do…whatever, and then take the bed?”
Lissa shook her head. “I’m tired and sticky. I want the bathroom. But I don’t know if I can sleep. I’ll take the couch for a bit, if it’s okay with you?”
There was a distance between them and Steve felt it. “Sure. Whatever you want.”
Nice move, Mr. Peckerhead. Acting like a ram in heat, fucking the crap out of her. What did you expect?
And when he turned the small light out next to the bed and turned on his side, alone, Steve was still asking himself the same question.
~~~~~
Lissa quietly opened the beer she’d found in the small fridge, next to a lone piece of pepperoni pizza on a paper plate with ranch dressing, and smiled as she listened to Steve’s rhythmic snores.
With the blanket tucked around her, a nice post-orgasmic exhaustion flooding her limbs, she was pretty relaxed. And the beer sure tasted good.
Where am I going? What am I doing with this man?
That question produced a snicker. Duh. Getting fucked every way possible and then some.
Okay. Point one. Sex with Steve was everything she’d ever imagined sex could be. He met her every move with one of his own, surprised her in countless ways and understood her desire to explore boundaries, limits and go beyond them both.
Point two. He seemed to be enjoying it as much as she was. He’d loved everything she’d suggested, everything she’d done. Duh, again. What guy didn’t like blowjobs?
Lissa frowned at her beer. She didn’t want to ask the question that lay beneath all this soul searching, but it had to be faced.
How did she feel about Steve? Really feel?
She squeezed her eyes shut. No. I do not want to feel. I do not want to be “involved”. That is sooo not what this whole thing is about. It’s only the sex. Absolutely only about the sex.
This whole escape, this “safari” was about Lissa finding stuff out about herself. About who she really was away from the restrictions she’d grown up with. About whether she had—or wanted—any limits. Whether the person inside was the real her, or just a dream she’d indulged in after one too many lectures.
It is the real me.
That fact was becoming clearer by the minute. Lissa liked freedom. The more she got, the more she craved. The freedom to take what she wanted from life, and from men.
From Steve.
Yeah, but you’re not the only one doing the taking. To take, someone has to give.
Once again, Lissa’s thoughts turned in circles. I’m taking—he’s giving. Or am I giving, too?
It was complicated. Far more complicated than a simple sexual adventure, and she wasn’t sure she understood it, liked it or whether she might even fear it a little bit.
The taste of the beer had turned bitter in her mouth. Sighing, she put it down next to the couch and lay on the cushions, tucking the blanket around her.
I’m tired. I can’t focus. Tomorrow. I’ll think about it tomorrow.
Steve’s snores followed her as she slid into sleep.
Chapter Seven
Several hours must have passed since Steve woke with a snort, a fart and a really cold ass thanks to the covers bunched around his knees. His mouth tasted foul, his throat was dry and his thighs ached.
And he wasn’t even hungover.
With a groan, he slipped from the bed, noticing the small light still on at the other end of the trailer.
Making as little noise as possible, he crept towards Lissa. She was sound asleep, bundled tightly in the blanket. And drooling.
He grinned and leaned over to tuck a fold more closely around her ear. The trailer was cold now, and he was shivering, so he figured she’d feel it, too. His foot hit something and with a clunk it tipped over, soaking his foot in liquid. Great. A beer pedicure.
“Eeeuucch…” He clapped a hand over his mouth to stifle his outburst and stepped back. A second thunk followed as he nearly fell over Lissa’s purse, spilling its contents out on the floor.
“What the fuck next?” He bit back another curse and shoved what he could find back inside. Christ, she’s got more shit than Mary Poppins in her purse.
She hadn’t stirred. Thank God, for that.
He picked his way carefully back from the couch towards the bathroom, and realized something was stuck to the bottom of his wet foot.
He sighed. He should’ve just stayed in bed, for chrissake.
But he hadn’t, so the hell with it. He had to pee, and clean off his foot while he was at it.
Closing the little bathroom door, he switched on the light and stuck his foot cautiously on the sink. Amazingly, he didn’t knock anything over.
He didn’t even yelp when cold water sluiced over his toes, and swept the sticky beer away. It almost swept away the thing adhering to his sole, but he caught it before it clogged the drain.
A laminated card. Credit card?
Steve squinted. Nope. It was a driver’s license. Lissa’s, obviously.
He put it on one side, peed, shook away a piss-shiver and quietly flushed. Then he washed his hands and dried them with the shirt hanging on the door, reaching to dry the license off as well. Absently he stared at it as he wiped the moisture from it.
Hmm. Melissa Henderson. So that was her full name.
He stared at the picture. And frowned.
Yeah, it was her. But this face, stern and uncompromising with hair pulled back tight, wasn’t the Lissa he knew. So government agencies didn’t take the best pictures, sure. He knew that only too well, since his license photo could’ve gone up on the FBI’s Ten Most Wanted list with a number underneath it and nobody would have blinked.
It was the expression on her face that had stopped him in his tracks. This woman, this Melissa Henderson, looked…angry…or constipated. And sad. Like she was about to administer a severe reprimand to somebody. Cold and passionless, her face stared back at him, in direct contrast to the heated woman who slept nearby.
He’d seen her in a fury and she looked nothing like this.
He’d seen her come, he’d seen her laugh and he’d seen her tired to the bone. She looked nothing like this.
Steve raised his head and caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror over the little sink.
He wondered if he’d changed, too. His gaze lingered, looking for…something. The disillusionment that had plagued him. The anger that had sat heavily in his gut since the divorce. The mark his ex-wife’s betrayal had left on his soul.
To his astonishment, he couldn’t find any of them. Yeah, he was tired. And yeah, his hair was sticking out like a badger’s with its paw stuck in a light socket. He had a growth of stubble on his chin rough enough to sharpen chisels, and he still smelled of beer. With breath that made his eyes water.
But his face was…different, somehow. More relaxed. More human.
He glanced down at the license in his hand once more. The same things could be said about Lissa. The real Lissa, not this pretend-person looking up at him.
They’d changed each other. Without realizing it, they had both moved on together to a new place.
Steve wasn’t too sure how he felt about that. Not sure at all.
He left the bathroom and crept back to the couch, groping for Lissa’s purse. He dropped the license inside as she stirred.
“Mmmphh?” She opened one eye. “You okay?”
“Yeah. It’s col
d. Go back to sleep.” He re-tucked her blanket.
“Steve?”
“Yeah?”
“I want to sleep with you.”
He chuckled. “Now? You’re not tired?”
She snuffled sleepily. “I want you to hold me, silly thing. I’m cold.”
How could he refuse? “C’mon, sleepyhead.” Half-carrying her, Steve managed to get them both back to the bed, and Lissa burrowed into his arms with a sigh of pleasure.
“Better.”
He settled her head on his shoulder. “Don’t drool on me.”
“M’kay.” She tossed one cold foot over his warm thigh and he winced. “Steve?”
“What?”
“You stink of beer.”
“And you’ve got cold feet.” Steve whimpered as she rested her iceberg foot on his calf, sucking any heat in his blood from him.
“Doesn’t matter. You’ll warm me up. You always do.” And she was asleep once more, but this time wrapped securely in his arms.
Steve was struck by how right it felt. There was no longer any distance between them, either mentally or physically. He liked it.
And that thought was the one that lingered longest in his brain as he, too, fell asleep.
~~~~~
Coffee. Coffee and…pine cleaner?
Lissa sniffed the air as she stretched out in the bed the following morning. “I smell something.”
Steve looked over his shoulder. “Coffee’s almost ready.”
She shivered and grabbed the blanket, missing his body heat. This damn trailer could get cold in the mornings. “Mmm. I could use some. Uh…I didn’t know it came in pine flavor, though.”
He grinned “I kicked over your beer last night. Sorry. I cleaned it up just now.”
“Ah.” She took a cup and poured a dark stream of liquid. “Thanks.” She nodded at the small pot. “For this.”
“Lissa. About yesterday…”
She took a swallow. And coughed. “Christ. This is coffee?”
He nodded. “Yep.”
“Honey, this is battery acid. Got any creamer or anything?”
Steve chuckled and passed her a small carton of milk. “Wimp.”
She nodded. “That’s me. And, yes, about yesterday. I’m sorry.”
He blinked. “You’re sorry?”
“Yeah. The whole thing on the hood. You were right. I…er…it wasn’t real.” She glanced at him over the rim of her cup. “I cheated.”
He looked down. “Even so, it wasn’t enough of a reason for me to blow up like I did.”
“You hear me complaining?” She quirked an eyebrow at him.
“Look, I’m trying to say I’m sorry, too. There was no cause for me to act so wild. To take you like that—I could’ve hurt you, Lissa. It was bad enough I forgot to use protection.”
Something inside her turned over, and made her dizzy for a moment. She dismissed it. “You didn’t hurt me. And I don’t think you could, Steve. You’re not that type.”
He considered her words. “I don’t know. Perhaps everybody is that type if the circumstances are right.”
Lissa shook her head. “Uh-uh. I don’t believe that. I pushed you, Steve. Hit buttons. I didn’t do it on purpose, mind you, but the fact remains I did.” She put her cup down. “You got mad. We had sex. Hot, wild, and maybe a little rough, sex. But it was good sex. For both of us. And I’m equally responsible for the whole condom thing.”
His head rose at that and he looked at her. “You’re okay?”
She felt the smile as it spread over her face. “My ass is a bit sore and I probably have a bruise or two on my spine, but yeah, I’m very okay.”
He lifted his hand and gently brushed her cheek. “I’m glad.”
Lissa blinked as that stupid feeling swamped her once more. The one that started as a warm glow somewhere around her navel and lit the damn sky on fire with a brilliant light. She wished it would stop, go away, get lost or something. It unsettled her.
She shifted and changed the subject. “I need to check on my car. Think we could find a spot with a signal and call them today?”
Steve got the message and pulled his hand away. “Sure. Good idea.”
“I’ll go shower.”
Coward. The voice of her conscience refused to be drowned in shampoo, and Lissa fought against the urge to lean on the Formica wall and just let go.
This was not going to happen. There was nothing between her and Steve except a burning heat for each other’s bodies. Absolutely nothing at all.
Liar.
Lissa told her conscience to shut the fuck up, and finished her shower.
~~~~~
Her face told Steve all he needed to know as he watched her walk back to the truck from the little store where she’d finally been able to find a couple of bars and call the garage.
“Damn mechanics.”
He stifled a chuckle at her mumbled curses. “No luck, huh?”
“They need a part. Didn’t say which part. Probably a brain part.” She snorted.
“Yeah. It’s always a part they don’t have.”
“Definitely brains.” Lissa shoved her phone back into her bag. “Eeeuuuww.”
“What?” Steve looked over.
“Did you spill beer inside my purse?”
“No. I swear.” He winced. “Er…I kind of tripped over that thing though. A couple of odds and ends sort of fell out. Maybe got a bit of beer on ‘em.”
“Aha.” She glared at him.
“Hey, cut me some slack here. It’s not my fault you women carry around enough supplies to invade the Roman Empire, for chrissake. The thing was sitting there, it was dark and I fell over it. Just pure luck I didn’t fall into it.” He shook his head. “I could have been lost forever.”
Lissa ignored him as she picked bits and pieces from her purse and examined them carefully. She tugged out a piece of crumpled paper. “Oh.”
Steve started the truck and put it in gear. “Oh, what?”
“Oh, I just found something. I forgot to tell you.”
“So…tell me now. I guess we’re heading back to the trailer. Not much else to do, huh?”
“Weeelll…” She turned the paper over. “We might have something to do.”
“Huh?”
She turned in the seat and pushed her bag onto the floor. “Okay. It’s like this…”
Steve sighed. In his experience, when a woman said that, he ended up not liking it. “Go ahead. Lay it on me.”
“You remember yesterday in the toy store?”
“Yeah. They threw me out.”
“Your fault. I told you not to mess around with stuff.” She frowned. “But forget about that. This isn’t about that…”
“So it’s not a warrant for my arrest for lewd and lascivious behavior with a baseball bat masquerading as a dildo?”
“Steve…”
“Yes?”
“Will you shut up and listen?”
“Yes, dear. Honest.”
Lissa snorted. “Remember I told you I met this woman. Jennifer. She and I chatted a bit, and…um…”
“Is she hot?”
“Jesus. H. Keeeriiisst.”
Steve laughed. “I’m sorry. Go ahead. I’ll be good. You met this Jennifer woman…”
He could almost hear her teeth clench together. “Yes. Jennifer. She invited me—us—to a party.”
“Oh.” Steve drove carefully up beside the trailer. “That’s nice of her. It’s her birthday or something?”
“Um…not exactly.”
Chapter Eight
Lissa couldn’t help grinning as she walked back into the trailer. Steve was a tease, no doubt about it. It had been a long time since anyone had yanked her chain like that and gotten her all riled up about it.
It felt…good.
She wondered how he was going to feel about the whole party thing.
“So. This party.” Steve closed the door behind them.
Looked like she was about to find out. “Yeah
. This party.” She thought for a moment, wondering how to explain it. “Perhaps I ought to kind of explain that Jennifer is…somewhat unusual.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah. She’s very free in her lifestyle sort of thing.”
Steve blinked. “How free?”
“Very free.”
“Okay. She’s very free.”
Lissa swallowed. “This party. I’m thinking it’s sort of an adult-type party.”
“Mmm-hmm.” Steve stared at her.
“Like a sex party.”
“Ah.” He tipped his head to one side. “Like a sex party or is a sex party?”
“Judging from Jennifer’s…conversation, it is a sex party.” Lissa peered at him under her eyelashes. “What do you think?”
“You want to go?” Steve didn’t want to answer first.
“You ever been to one before?”
“I asked first. But, hell, I went to college. Everybody’s second major was in sex parties.” He puffed out his chest in typical macho style.
Lissa chuckled. “You were lucky. I commuted. But I don’t think a keg of beer, two strippers and a midget is what Jennifer’s party is all about.”
Steve looked offended. “That was one of the best parties in my whole junior year.”
She rolled her eyes. “We’re getting off track here. Yes, I’d like to go. I think it would be real interesting, if nothing else. And you’re invited. You game?”
Thoughts ricocheted through Steve’s mind. He had dreamed about so-called sex parties before. Loose, horny women all looking for Mr. Goodcock. Many masturbatory nights had been filled with fantasies of such an event.
However, he’d never gone to something like this and he wasn’t completely convinced that he wanted to. Sure, he was curious, but he was also a bit possessive…possessive of Lissa. He knew they weren’t actually hooked together like a real honest-to-God couple or anything, but he did have a growing bond with her.
As he sat on the couch his insecurities showed their faces, stuck out their tongues and put their thumbs in their ears. What if she met some sex god with a cock the size of Manhattan? He couldn’t compete with another man built like that, and he wouldn’t want to. His thoughts were confused.