Dirty

  "You're happy with the price?" I asked.

  "Very."

  "Great." I smiled, trying my utmost to be happy for him. Just like a friend would be. "That's ... that's really great."

  Odd how he didn't smile back. Instead, he kept staring out at the backyard, face betraying no emotion. It was his parents' place. Whatever his issues over accepting their death, giving up his childhood home had to hit hard. All those memories.

  "When are you thinking of leaving town?"

  "Henning and Conn want to get started putting together the new material soon as possible." He grabbed at the back of his neck. "So early next week, I guess."

  "That soon?"

  "Yeah." His gaze zeroed in on me. "Is that a problem for you, with your stuff and all that, Lydia?"

  "No." I looked down, trying to get a handle on ... well, me. It felt like my little world had been turned upside down and been shaken to shit. The perfect scene in the snow globe was a blizzardy mess. What the hell was my problem? None of this should be a surprise. "No. I'll get storage sorted out in the next few days. Not a problem."

  "So you're still thinking of staying?"

  "Maybe." It was my turn to look away, to avoid his eyes. Such a perfect shade of blue. I'd just have to avoid looking up at the sky for the rest of my life so as not to be reminded of him. Completely doable. "So, early next week. What are you thinking, Monday, Tuesday?"

  "Something like that."

  I nodded and tucked my mass of bed hair back behind my ears. Then I messed it back up again because exposing myself right now was plain dumb. "Well, it's great that you got a big offer on the house right away. Just great."

  "Mm."

  "I should go shower. Make some small attempt to look less like the undead."

  "Hey," he said. "Did you want to go check out some cars today?"

  "Yes, that would be good. Thanks." I rose, my legs feeling bizarrely flimsy, weak.

  The great thing about crying in the shower was that with all of the noise and water, there was no real evidence.

  No one need ever know.

  *

  "See, babe. Isn't this nice?"

  I gave him an unimpressed look. Not an easy feat, given how good he looked. With the window down, his golden-red hair blew wild in the wind and a toned inked arm leaned on the door frame. He was like an ad for the good life.

  "Come on, you have to admit this is a great car."

  I didn't have to admit a damn thing.

  "Lydia, this is the right choice," he said smoothly. "Comfortable interior, high safety standards, handles well in wet weather and snow, and it even has a small sunroof just for you."

  "You're being condescending. Stop it before I hurt you."

  "I know you like that piece of shit Prius and the cute little MINI Cooper." He reached out, slipping a hand behind my neck and massaging gently. Dude was lucky I didn't bite off his limb. If he wasn't so good with his fingers, I would. "But the WRX will work out far better for you, I promise."

  "I didn't even want to take it for a test drive. You and that idiot ganged up on me."

  "Babe."

  "It's true. You know you did."

  "I had no idea Mitch even worked there," he said with a laugh. A devious one. "Is it really so bad that me and my old friend want you to have an awesome car at the best price possible?"

  "It is a good price."

  "It's a fucking amazing price and you know it. You're supposed to be test-driving it, not me." He pulled into a gravel parking lot in a secluded spot by the lake, switched off the engine. "Fastest line-built vehicle on the market, Lydia. You know you want to try it."

  "It probably got thrashed by its previous owners."

  "No way would Mitch sell you something that'd been treated bad. I'd come back to Coeur d'Alene to kick his ass if he did, and he knows it."

  "God, would you stop talking about leaving?" I snapped. And immediately regretted it.

  Vaughan cocked his head.

  "Sorry." I took a deep breath, let it out slowly. "Apparently, I'm Ms. Bad Attitude today. Let's just enjoy the here and now. Okay?"

  He slowly nodded his head. Then he gazed back out the windshield at the sparkling blue water. "You wanted the Vaughan Hewson Coeur d'Alene experience."

  It took a moment for my poor brain to catch up. "This is where you brought your dates when you were in school?"

  "Yes, it is."

  "Nice. Very nice."

  "Far enough out of town, away from the lights. The whole sky would be full of stars."

  "Mm." I smiled wistfully. "Sounds romantic. Too bad it's daytime."

  "No one's around."

  I turned my head so fast we both should have gotten whiplash. "What?"

  "No one's around."

  "Ha." I smiled, raised my eyes to the heavens. "God, I thought you were serious there for a minute."

  "I am." He was? Shit. He was. Beautiful blue eyes all intense and heated, looking at me and licking his lips like I was definitely at the top of today's menu.

  "Oh."

  He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, trailing his fingers down my neck. Toying first with the spaghetti strap of my blousy white top and then with my bra beneath. The man had moves. But also, he basically had me on a leash, the bastard. Mind, body, heart, and soul. Not that I'd ever tell him. Immediately my breathing picked up pace, my skin grew all shivery.

  "Lewd acts. Exposure." I giggled hysterically, sounding a lot like an idiot. "I'm pretty sure there are laws protecting public places against that. Especially in broad daylight. We better not."

  "We're not going to get caught."

  "But we might."

  "We won't." He slipped both straps off my shoulder, exposing more skin. In the smoothest of moves, he unclipped his seatbelt and then moved directly on to releasing mine. But the man wasn't done. Oh, no. There would soon come a day when he would be done with me, but it wasn't this one.

  "Hold on." He twisted and rose up. With a knee on his seat, he reached right across me. Things were fiddled with on the side of my seat, and all of a sudden the back was way back and I was staring directly up at the beige car ceiling. Out the open window, a tree swayed overhead. Green leafy branches rustled in the wind. Lots of nature. Now and then the sun broke through, a dazzling shaft of light from the heavens above.

  Did the sun have to be so bright? We were going to get caught for sure. Also, cellulite did best under soft or no lighting. Try as I did to accept my body, this sort of shit remained a concern.

  "Um," I said, because my brain was still in genius mode. "I'm not sure this is safe."

  "Car's stationary and I've got a condom in my back pocket. We couldn't be safer." Without further ado, he climbed on top of me, his hips situated between my legs. An elbow to my side near the top of the seat took the bulk of his weight. Still, the feel of his body on mine sent tremors of excitement racing through me. Red alert, illegal and possibly embarrassing, but very good times ahead. I gripped the sides of my chair like I was on a roller-coaster and a loop de loop was coming up. Yet all the while, my vagina prepared to party like it was 1999.

  Fuck. I was so confused. "We have a bed at home. I mean, at your place."

  Low laughter from the deviant. "Yeah, but I have you all turned on right here. Why wait?"

  "I'm not really turned on."

  "Nipples."

  I looked down. They were indeed twin hard points, all too obvious beneath the thin cotton of my top. Talk about betrayal. "They know nothing."

  "Hey. You really want me to stop?" He stared deep into my eyes, seeing the panic in my soul. I could feel it, his understanding, his concern. And not just over the public exposure sex thing. Let's be honest here. My current freak-out had way more to do with the creeping dread of him leaving and the fear regarding the state of my muddled heart.

  "Babe?"

  His face was so close. Lips just barely touching mine, the heat and beauty of him setting me on fire. I could feel him hardening against my stomach, re
acting to me. My need fed on his, growing by the moment.

  "Say the word," he continued. "You know I'll do whatever you want."

  I wanted to call bullshit on that so badly. Or better yet, tell him exactly what I wanted. Just as soon as I figured out exactly what that was....

  Instead I craned my neck, kissing him gently, sweetly. Over and over with lips closed, then with them open just a little. On this went until his tongue eased into my mouth, taking me over. We kissed in slow motion as if we had all the time in the world. The palm of his hand molded to my breast, squeezing and teasing the sensitive flesh. My hands meanwhile slipped beneath his tee, exploring his back. Stroking his smooth skin, coming close to getting off on the feel of him. The ridges in his spine and the hard planes of his muscles. All the while, he moved against me, rubbing his hard dick over my pubic bone, stroking close to the top of my sweet spot. I angled my hips, trying to get more.

  Shit, it felt good. So good. But it wasn't enough.

  "Vaughan," I panted, slipping my hands down into his jeans, squeezing his firm ass cheeks. "No underwear?"

  "I wanted to be prepared."

  I grinned as he lightly bit my earlobe, then licked my neck.

  It could never get old, being with him. Every intimacy we shared added to the familiarity of his body and his ways. The thrill of being with him, however, never waned. Given time, it might change and grow. But never would it disappear. Some things just were absolute.

  I slipped my hands between us, unbuttoning his jeans and lowering his zipper. Demure, I was not. Or at least, not once we got going. Getting that item of clothing right the hell out of my way. Hot velvet skin over rigid flesh. He was a tactile heaven. My fingers brushed over the rounded head, thumb searching out the join in the ridge of his cockhead and massaging just beneath.

  He groaned into my neck, shoulders heaving. "Fuck, that feels good."

  Ah, the power of getting your hand on a man's cock. It was mighty. "Does it?"

  "Mm."

  A hand pushed up my chambray skirt, exposing my dimpled thighs. Screw any anxiety. I was too caught up in the goodness of touching Vaughan to care. He slipped a finger into the leg opening of my panties, tugging at the material.

  "Why the fuck are you wearing these, Lydia?"

  "Because I'm a fool?"

  He chuckled.

  "I didn't know what you were planning," I complained.

  "Assume I always want to fuck you. That would be safest."

  His mouth covered mine and he kissed me deep and wet. Mutual masturbation worked well. I fondled and caressed his cock, doing my best to drive him insane. While he did likewise, curling in his fingers and sliding his knuckles through my wet slit. Every muscle between my neck and knees tensed, it felt so good. The boy gave me bliss, pure and simple. Then he broke the kiss and licked the pad of his thumb before going to work on my clit. God, he was good at this, his touch just right. His hand stretched the elastic in my panties, making room for him to play. Happy chemicals made my head spin round, my whole world was in a daze. I almost forgot to keep stroking him. Sad, because the feel of him thickening in my hand was sublime. Not something I'd ever want to miss.

  "Cum on me." I nipped at his lips.

  "That what you want? You want my cum on your soft skin?"

  I nodded my head, milking him harder with every stroke.

  "No. Not this time." He pulled his hand out of my panties, a crying shame. Then he drew the condom out of his back pocket and ripped it open with his teeth. I made a truly sad sound when he pried my fingers off of his cock and rolled it on.

  "Scoot your ass down a little," he said, drawing me closer to the edge of the seat. "Why couldn't you want a bigger car?"

  "Why couldn't you cum on me?"

  The sides of his lips hitched up. He pulled aside my stretched underwear and carefully lined his cock up with my opening. In one smooth thrust he filled me, both of us moaning. Loudly.

  "Oh god." My eyelids fluttered, my insides doing the same. Indescribable. That's what having him inside of me felt like. Every good thing, everything bright and shiny. But more, so much more. And the way he looked at me, studying my every expression, gauging my every move. I don't know why, but having such total committed focus from him nearly undid me. I almost cried for the second time today.

  "That's why I couldn't cum on you," he whispered in my ear. "Because I needed to do this."

  I had no words. Happily, none was required.

  Slowly, deliberately, he made love to me. Crammed into the passenger side of a test vehicle which now definitively must be mine. Of all the places to have a meaningful moment. He rocked in and out of me, taking his time, building the passion between us. Our connection was absolute and always would be. No matter where he went. No matter what he did. I'd lost a part of myself to him that I'd never get back. Hell, I gave it, even knowing it wasn't smart and I might regret it one day soon.

  Hearts are so stupid.

  Gradually he increased his pace. My legs were wrapped around him, holding on tight. Sweat soaked both our skins. We moved as best we could, reaching for the peak, clinging together. It went on and on, and yet was over all too soon. I angled my hips up, taking him deep. He plowed into me with great purpose. One hand tangled in my hair and the other taking some of his weight. The sound of our frantic breathing, of our bodies slamming together filled the small space.

  And still it surprised me. My orgasm ripped out my lungs. I silently cried out, my cunt clutching at him as my heart skipped a beat. My whole body shook beneath him as he groaned my name, pressing his cheek bruisingly hard against mine. Apparently, the French refer to an orgasm as the little death. However, that didn't cover it. Try the mass murder of all of my hopes and dreams. It shouldn't have felt so astonishingly mind-numbingly superb to fall for a man who'd never be mine. But it did.

  Love sucks.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Strange things were afoot at the Dive Bar the next day. Saturday, the anniversary of my botched wedding. Hooray.

  Nothing of any great interest had happened after our sexcapades in my new car. We went back to see Mitch at the dealership, who gave our skewed clothing dubious looks. He visibly relaxed after I told him I'd be buying the vehicle. Vaughan had gone quiet, but then so had I.

  We went to work. And when we got back to his house exhausted after a long night, we went to sleep, together in the same bed.

  But back to today.

  Brett Chen, the reporter, lounged against his car parked opposite my place of work. He pulled out his Canon and started snapping photos of Vaughan and me as we were walking inside.

  "Talk to me, Lydia," he yelled from across the street. "I've got a big-name magazine taking the story. Nationwide distribution. A lot of money."

  "Asshole," I muttered, keeping my sunglasses on and my face down.

  "Time to give Officer Andy a call," said Vaughan. "Get rid of this guy."

  "I'm not sure legally there's much he can do. Anyway, the reporter's not going to get what he wants," I said without slowing down. "Let karma take care of him for profiting from people's heartbreak and misery. I've got better things to do with my time."

  "This is the third time he's been here in almost as many days. Taking your picture without your permission. The idiot's practically stalking you, babe."

  I shrugged, reached out and gave his fingers a squeeze. We stepped into the bar and I headed straight for a small table at the back. Poor Betsy, the Delaneys' real estate receptionist, did not look like a happy girl. Boo-hoo.

  "I've been waiting for you for nearly twenty minutes." She sniffed, pushing back a half-drunk cup of coffee and rising out of her seat. "The brew here is godawful. Are the papers all correctly signed? I don't want to have to come down here again just because you can't read."

  God, what a bitch. The papers were signed, all right, but she could figure that out for herself.

  In lieu of conversation, I tossed the large envelope containing the Delaneys' settlement contra
ct her way. Betsy dived for it. making a weird gasping noise. Indignation burned bright in her beady little eyes. Before she could rip into me for lack of care or whatever, I got the hell away from her. I had things to do. It was time to make over my life. Minus the bullshit this time.

  Saturday was a big day. At only twenty past twelve, most of the tables were already filled. I called out greetings to Rosie and Masa on the restaurant floor, Eric behind the bar, and Nell and Boyd busy at work in the kitchen. Then I continued on my way to the back office.

  The big blond bear, aka Joe, sat in front of the computer, engrossed in whatever was on the screen.

  "Hi," I said, dumping my handbag in the corner. "Nell wanted me to start on the bookkeeping."

  Startled eyes glanced up at me and his fingers froze on the keys. "Ah, hey, Lydia."

  "Are you working today too?" Three people behind the bar seemed excessive but whatever.

  "No," he said. "I just needed to use the computer. Mine's acting up. Be out of here in a minute."

  "No problem. I'll go grab a cup of coffee."

  The deer-caught-in-headlights look faded, transforming into something else. He cleared his throat, gaze returning to me every few seconds. Whatever was on that screen, Joe did not want it to be seen. Probably porn.

  "Would you like one?" I asked, taking a step toward the table.

  His whole body tensed as if he was preparing to jump up and cover whatever it was. "One what?"

  "Coffee."

  "No," he said. "Thanks."

  "Okay." I gave him a brief smile, strolling toward the door. "Back in a minute."

  His chin jerked, eyes stuck to me like I might vault over the desk and launch a violent invasion of his online privacy at any moment.

  Very strange.

  When I came back with my coffee, Joe had disappeared out the back door. Nell had left a list detailing what kinds of expenses belonged in which category. Beyond that, it was pretty basic. I worked away at the piles of receipts, banking records, and invoices. Inputting all of the information--business name, items in question, their price, etc. Gradually, the backlog began to dwindle.

  The best part of doing this particular job (which no one else wanted to do) were the excellent service and gastronomical benefits. Rosie or Masa regularly delivered coffees, bottles of sparkling water, a delectable Vietnamese-style chicken salad for lunch, and an amazingly good steak with a baked potato and all the trimmings for dinner. I had no idea what they did to the cow to make the meat so tender. Daily massages. Weekly pedicures. Whatever it was, it worked. Best steak ever.