Dirty Thoughts - Megan Erickson Page 0,18

and pressed it right to the damp fabric. She sucked in a breath. He moved it, questing, reading the cues in her body, the shifts in her hips until he hit just. The. Right. Spot.

“I want to see you get off,” he said. Every word, every touch was full of intent. With one hand firmly on her hip and the other doing crazy things to her clit, he urged her to ride his lap. She let her dress go, and it stayed bunched around her waist as she clutched his arms. He watched her, the cords in his neck straining, the muscles in his shoulders bulging.

“You still get this wet for me?” His voice came through clenched teeth.

“What does it feel like?” she gasped.

“Feels like my Sunshine.”

She threw her head back, the ends of her hair tickling the top of her bare ass. She didn’t care where she was; she didn’t care what this meant. All she knew was that Cal’s hands were on her again, his voice in her ear, his scent in her nostrils. She wanted him, and she wanted this moment more than her next breath.

She came on a silent cry that turned into gasping moans. Her whole body shook in his arms, and his low voice whispered some words in her ear that she couldn’t decipher. Her brain had gone offline, and all she managed to do after her orgasm ripped through her was to slump onto his chest, panting hot breaths on the skin of his neck.

A finger lifted her chin. “You still kiss like a fucking dream.” His lips coasted over hers, and his broad hands skimmed down her back to palm her ass. He flexed his hips once. “And you still feel like one too.”

“Cal.” He was hard between her legs. It was difficult to reconcile this Cal with the one she’d known before, but it didn’t matter. She wanted him. And he wanted her. She leaned back and cupped his stubbled jaw, looking into his silver eyes. “Do you want to come inside?”

Chapter Six

DO YOU WANT to come inside?

Those words slammed into him, bringing everything into focus, and it was like a bucket of ice water had been dumped onto Cal’s head.

What the fuck was he doing? No really. What the fuck was he doing?

He was about ten seconds away from fucking her in the cab of the tow truck. Jenna MacMillan. The only girl he’d ever loved. He hadn’t seen her in ten years, and he acted like this, like the same out-of-control eighteen-year-old who couldn’t keep his hands to himself.

She’d felt right under his hands, her lips had been perfection, and that was the problem. Nothing had changed between them from back then to now. He was still Cal Payton, a blue-collar piece of shit, and she was Jenna MacMillan, daughter of the richest guy in town. She still saw him the same, didn’t she? The rough guy with rough hands who’d take her in a truck?

The definition of insanity was doing the same thing and expecting different results. Cal was many things but crazy wasn’t one of them.

Jenna’s flushed cheeks faded, and her brow furrowed as she stared at his face, which surely showed his dawning anxiety over this situation. “C-Cal?” Her fingers curled into the hair at the nape of his neck.

He closed his eyes and let his head fall back on the headrest. He dropped his hands from her legs, hating the way his palms itched to go right back where they were, like her skin was magnetic.

He swallowed and prepared to hate himself. “No.”

Her body tensed on top of his. “What?”

“No, I don’t wanna come inside. And you gotta get off of me.”

There was a pause, and she flexed her hips slightly onto his erection, which made him grit his teeth. “But—”

“I’m holding on to my willpower by a fine fucking thread. So if you don’t get off me in five seconds, Jenna, swear to God, I will be inside you. Now get. Off.” He used crude words and language on purpose. That’s what she expected of him, wasn’t it?

He didn’t open his eyes until she slid off him. Where once there had been a simmering heat of attraction firing in this cab, now there was nothing but a chill. And it went right down to his bones.

He heard her take a deep breath and then her purse straps jingled. He opened his eyes and gripped the steering wheel, staring straight ahead at the door of