Dirty Thoughts - Megan Erickson Page 0,39
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,