Dirty Thoughts - Megan Erickson Page 0,19
her garage. She’d rented a nice house. He figured she didn’t plan to stay there, but even if she did, it would be a nice place to raise a family. He could picture a basketball hoop over the garage door. A nice little swing on the front porch. Jenna standing at the door, a toddler clinging to her leg as he pulled into the driveway after a long day of work.
He didn’t want that. He told himself he didn’t want that. It wasn’t for him. Jenna wasn’t for him.
And as much as it killed him to listen to her gather herself together over on the other side of the truck cab, he had to stay firm. Another couple of minutes of awkwardness and anger would save them each from a future of heartache. Because this would end again, probably even worse than the last time. Which was pretty fucking bad, considering the broken nose and possible assault charge.
He heard her take a sharp breath, and he wondered what kind of battle was coming. “Cal—”
“I’ll take your car back to the shop and get a tire on it. Brent’ll call you when it’s ready.” He turned the ignition, still avoiding her gaze.
“Excuse me?” Her voice shook.
He turned to look at her, careful to keep his face blank. “He’ll call you when it’s ready,” he said slowly.
Her nostrils flared as she inhaled sharply. “Can you explain, please, why you’re pretending like I wasn’t on your lap five minutes ago with my skirt hiked up to my waist?”
Of course she wouldn’t let him get away with this. “That shouldn’t have happened.”
“That shouldn’t have happened?” Her voice was reaching screech octaves. He heard, and he knew she did too, because she shook her head and turned away from him.
She smoothed her dress, and it pained him to see how much this hurt her. But he told himself it was for the best, despite the sour feeling in his stomach.
“Well, thank you for fixing my tire. I’ll look forward to your brother’s call.” She opened up the truck door, hopped down, and turned to peer back into the cab. There was a flash in her eyes he didn’t like. “Maybe he’ll be nicer to me than his asshole brother.”
Cal couldn’t stop the sneer from curling his lips. “Don’t play that game with me, Jenna.”
She smirked, and he knew she’d willingly poked the bear. “Then don’t play games with me, Calvin.” She slammed the door shut and stalked to the front door of her house. She opened her front door and stepped inside.
He sat in the driveway for five minutes, beating himself up until he felt steady enough to put the truck in gear and drive away.
THE SOUND OF his motorcycle’s engine below him, the vibration between his thighs, was the only thing soothing him, keeping him from running back to Jenna’s house and begging forgiveness.
Because plain and simple, he’d been an asshole. He knew it. She knew it. But what was done was done, and Cal was a decisive son of a bitch. It’d been heaven to feel her again, but that was the last chance he was going to get.
He’d come home after dropping off Jenna’s car and immediately hopped on his bike for a late-night summer ride. These were his favorite times to be out on the road. There wasn’t much traffic, and the air was hot yet not blistering. He could wear his leather jacket with a T-shirt underneath, a backwards ball cap on his head and just . . . ride.
He’d tried to be a big shot around Jenna at first, all proud of how he’d changed, but then he’d pulled that move on her like a teenager. He had his reasons why they’d never work in the long run, but how could Jenna understand that? She hadn’t gotten it all those years ago. She thought it was no big deal how much her family despised him. But they had more power over her than she wanted to recognize, and they’d sure pulled that card at the first shot they had to get her away from him.
And at eighteen, he’d played right into it like a chump.
He turned a corner and opened up the gas on the long stretch of highway in front of him.
Jenna. God, she’d been beautiful with her swollen lips and flushed cheeks, with that mass of brown hair surrounding them.
He’d wanted her so bad. He’d wanted to open the fly of his jeans, rip that piece of