She Runs Away (The Sheridan Hall Series Book 2)

by Jessica Calla

  “I’m… flipping… you,” I grunt with each attempt.

  He grabs my leg and holds it steady as I sag into the mattress, catching my breath. I stifle a laugh as he smiles down at me. “Flipping me?”

  I nod.

  “Like this?” He holds my waist and swings me on top of him in the swift, sexy move I’d imagined. “You’re going to pull a muscle wrestling with me like that. Use your words, Sweet Meg. I’ll give you whatever you want.” Underneath me, he stretches out, and his hands start to roam. “I like you up there.”

  I touch his lips and shush him, and then I lift my hips and lower myself over him. On top, I set the pace, focusing on his face, leaning over to kiss him, nibbling him like a feast. My chest rubs against his, and he grabs my ass, pulling me as deeply as possible. When I sit up and push my hands into his chest for leverage, I find our rhythm, and it doesn’t take him very long.

  When he comes, he moans so loud that I think the entire building can hear him. I cover his mouth with my hand, but then I laugh. I can’t help it.

  He pants next to me. “Holy shit, Megan.”

  I flop to the side and stretch my legs against his. “I can’t believe we did that.”

  He turns his head to kiss my nose then my lips. “Are we, like, the smartest people on the planet? We should have come up with this contract thing months ago.”

  I’d almost forgotten about the contract. “We get to do this again? That makes me so happy.”

  “So you’re okay with this?” He runs his thumb over my cheek.

  “Yep. I feel so good right now.” I hold my breath as he watches me, afraid he’s going to get weird—touchy, feely, needy—and forget about our deal. But then he smiles and pats my cheek, and I exhale.

  “Me too. When’s next time? I only need like ten minutes, tops.” He reaches for his phone and touches the timer, holding it in front of my face. “Seriously, ten minutes.”

  Relieved that he’s still being playful, I laugh and push the phone away. “This arrangement is so great.” I’m an idiot. I should have gone for the daily fuck.

  I sit up and lean over him to kiss him. He tries to grab me again, but I wiggle out of his arms and out of the bed. “We are going to have so much fun with this casual sex stuff.”

  Leaning up on his elbow, which must be the February hot guys of campus calendar pose, he watches me search the room. I spot my bra flung over Chase’s desk, grab it, and scan the room for the rest of my discarded layers.

  “Where are you going?” he asks.

  Uh, oh. Here comes the needy… “I need to find my clothes.”

  “Why? I like you naked.”

  “It’s late. We need sleep. Can I still sleep in Chase’s bed?”

  “You can sleep in my bed.” He watches me fasten my bra and pull on my panties.

  I wiggle a finger at him. “Nooo.” I drag out the word. “That violates the contract.”

  He smirks at me like I’m nuts. Maybe I am. But I can’t sleep with Ben. It’s too intimate for contract sex.

  I pull my tank over my head and poke around Chase’s side of the room, looking for a sleeping option besides my jeans. I find a pair of Juliet’s yoga pants and slip into them. She has about six inches on me, all leg, so they hang off my feet. I waddle to the light switch, jumping to pull the pants over my hips, and shut off the light.

  Ben turns on his bed lamp and leans on his elbow, bare chested in his Mr. February pose with his I-just-had-sex hair, watching me squirm into Chase’s bed. I have a brief crisis of confidence when I remember that Juliet’s the last woman who shared Ben’s bed. How anyone in her right mind can date Ben and not have sex with him baffles the hell out of me. He’s perfect. He’s good-looking and built, smooth and warm. Now I know he’s amazing naked too. She doesn’t know what she missed out on. I pull Chase’s comforter over me.

  “You’re seriously going to sleep in Chase’s bed?” With his eyes wide and a crooked smile, Ben continues to stare at me like I’m nuts.

  I roll myself tightly into the comforter to fight the temptation to crawl in next to him. “I can go back to my room, if you want.”

  “No, please stay. Sleep. In Chase’s bed.” He rolls his eyes then shuts his lamp off.

  A couple of minutes go by, and then Ben whispers my name into the dark room.

  “Hmm?”

  “This turned out to be a great Valentine’s Day.”

  I smile in the dark. So. Damn. Perfect.

  Ben

  I toss and turn all night. I don’t know if I’m built for casual contract sex. I want Megan to be in bed with me, her body next to mine, her warmth against my skin. I’ve never had a night like this one.

  Megan. I should have known.

  It’s after nine when the sun pokes through the blinds. She’s across the room from me, passed out. The comforter is around her waist, and she’s in a little tank top. Her chest rises and falls with her breaths.

  She’s made it clear that she’s sticking to the contract rules, so I only get to have her one more time this week. I should really spread out our romps, but I can’t help wanting to touch her again. Now. Fuck it. I toss my blankets.

  I’m naked still, which is convenient, and I take the three steps across the room to Meg. I nudge her and crawl into Chase’s bed next to her. I feel guilty waking her, so I lay still, knowing my body and my hard-on will do the job for me.

  She rolls toward me and murmurs my name without opening her eyes. Then she rubs her body against mine and wraps her thighs around my erection, sandwiching it between her legs. She’s definitely not shy, which I love. As I go over the night in my groggy mind, I pull her closer. I move my hands over her bare arms, up into her hair, and lean in to nibble her ear.

  “Stay asleep,” I whisper. “It’s a dream.”

  Meg squeezes my dick between her thighs as I touch her under her tank, teasing her nipples with my thumb. She smiles, keeping her eyes shut. She runs a hand over my chest around my waist. “Best dream ever.”

  Then she moves lower, disappearing under the comforter, and when she finds my morning erection, she takes me in her mouth.

  “Oh, Sweet Meg.” I push the comforter off of us and reach down to strip her tank off over her head. When her phone starts to chime, I whine. “No.”

  Megan pulls away and opens her eyes. She jerks up and finds her tank, pulling it down over her body. She looks at me, grabbing my arms. “Oh no. What time is it?”

  “Nine? Nine-thirty?”

  “Oh crap. Crap. Crap.” She repeats the word as she searches the room, finding her ringing phone in her coat pocket. She touches it and cringes. “Hi, Daddy.”

  I mimic her cringe, feeling her pain. She looks cute in Juliet’s pants, pacing the room.

  “I’ll be right there. I’m around the corner, order for me. I’m sorry. I overslept.” She looks at me and scowls. I shrug. “I love you too.”

  Megan hangs up and frantically gathers her clothes. She wiggles out of Jules’ pants into her own as I admire her ass and perfect porcelain skin. “Where are we going?” I tease her to get her attention back on me.

  “We? Nowhere. Me? Late for breakfast with my dad.” She looks in Chase’s mirror and fluffs her hair. “Oh God. I look like I spent the night having sex.”

  “You did.” I clear my throat. “Can’t I come with you? I’m starving.” I sit up and rub my eyes. I’m way more exhausted than hungry, but when she blushes and squirms, it’s fucking cute as hell.

  She waves a hand at me. “No. Nut-uh. We have to fix this contract thing. No more spending the night together. We slept too late. What if Chase had come back?” She flings on her coat and darts to the door, but stops to look at me.

  I catch her gaze travel down my body. “See something you like?” I pat the bed next to me. “Come give me a kiss goodbye.”

  She shakes her head and waves a finger at me. “No way, Riley. You got me into enough trouble. We should have set an alarm. Why didn’t we set an alarm?”

  I
pat the bed again. “Five minutes. I bet I can make you come in five minutes.”

  Megan marches toward the bed. “I like that challenge.” She runs a finger down my chest. “You’re naughty and have a dirty mouth. Who knew?” Then she playfully slaps me on the cheek.

  “Ow!” I rub the spot she hit. “Me? What about you? That shy girl thing and cute blush. Who knew it was all an act? Give me five minutes. Please?” My dick hardens again from the thought.

  She bends down to kiss me. “Some other time.”

  I try to yank her onto the bed, but she twists away. Again she stops at the door and spins around, grinning. “I bet I can make you come in four minutes, max.”

  I gasp in fake shock. “Dirty, dirty girl. Prove it.”

  “Next time.” She smiles as she leaves, and I plop down on the bed, my thoughts consumed by Megan and what’s in store for the next time.

  Chapter Four

  Megan

  I push my way into the diner and scan the room for my dad. He’s sitting in a booth with his back to the crowd on the other side of the restaurant. Thankfully, there’s a steaming pot of coffee in front of him. I sneak up and tap his shoulder.

  “Uh, excuse me?” I whisper in his ear in a creepy man voice. “Aren’t you Big Joe Smith? Hall of Famer? Can I have an autograph?”

  He shakes his head and leans back. “Hey, baby girl.”

  I kiss his cheek and wrap my arms around his neck. “Sorry I’m late.” As I slide into the booth, I inhale the sweet smell of maple syrup and can’t wait to eat. I pour my coffee, and dad asks me what I did last night.

  I bite my lip and punt. “I talked to you, remember? I was in the library, watching a movie.”

  He blocks the punt. “Hm. Then what?”

  Most girls don’t tell their dad what they’ve been up to with guys, but I tell my dad everything. Almost. “Then after the library, I kind of hooked up.”

  Dad rubs his forehead. “Amelia! With whom?”

  Dad and Uncle are the only people who call me Amelia, my real first name. I’ve been going by Megan, my middle name, since high school. I’ve asked them not to use it around NJU though, especially after Frank’s shooting. Especially with all the attention on our dorm, I didn’t want to be outted as Big Joe’s daughter. “A guy, Daddy. You don’t need to know who.”

  “Is he your boyfriend?”

  I take a giant gulp of my coffee. “Nope.” We just signed a contract to fuck each other twice a week.

  “Are you using protection?” He’s still rubbing his forehead. It’s his tell-tale frustrated parent sign.

  “Of course. I’m not an idiot. And before you ask, he was a perfect gentleman. No big deal. We made ground rules, had sex, and called it a night.” Sort of.

  Dad shakes his head and points a big, crooked finger at me. “You kids today. Nothing is a big deal to you. Sex should be a big deal, especially for a woman.” I must make a face because he raises his voice. “Stop rolling your eyes. It’s a double standard, but it’s true. You’re going to get a reputation if you go sleeping around.”

  Dad’s voice is loud and deep, and I look around the diner. “Jeez, Dad! Shut up! I’m not sleeping around, and it’s not nineteen ninety-five anymore. Consenting adults have sex, and it’s not a big deal. I was just being honest with you. Do you want me to lie?”

  His forehead is going to scar at the rate he’s rubbing it. “No, I guess not. But it better not be a football player.”

  Of course, he doesn’t know that of the four guys I’ve slept with, now with Ben included, three have been football players. I sigh and give him my standard answer without answering. “Come on, Daddy. I know your rule.”

  I’ve learned the hard way that his rule makes sense. The other two football players I’ve messed around with used me to get to my dad. I guess I used them too, for my own physical satisfaction, but I wasn’t an asshole to them. They certainly were assholes to me. The non-football player was fun, but it just wasn’t the same. Ben is too damn dreamy for me to ruin this … thing… we have going. If I can help it, he’ll never find out that his childhood hero, Big Joe Smith, is my dad.

  “Speaking of football players, did you tell Ben about the match thing?” At the mention of Ben, I gag on my coffee. It’s like he can read my mind. Dad reaches across the table to pound my back. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. What made you think of that?”

  “You said last night that your experiment thing matched you and you weren’t going to tell him. You should tell him.” He tops off my coffee, oblivious to my shocked look.

  “You just told me no football players.” My hands shake as I peruse the giant menu.

  “A, he’s not playing anymore, and B, he seems different.” I glare at my father and wonder why the change of heart. ”And maybe I had him checked out.”

  I drop my menu and exhale, my face heating. “What do you mean you ‘had him checked out’?”

  “I know you’re going to be mad…”

  My blood begins to race, and I’m not sure why yet.

  “But back in September, when you told me about Ben I had a P.I. investigate.”

  Dad cringes then hides behind the menu.

  “What?” I reach across the table and flip his menu down. “Are you insane?”

  His blue eyes mirror mine as he slams the menu onto the table. “I wasn’t going to let my little girl be away at college and hanging out with some strange guy… especially a small-town Pennsie quarterback. He could have been a sex offender or something. A lot of those high school players get in trouble and date rape girls and do drugs.”

  “Oh my God, Dad. Don’t you think I can exercise judgment?”

  “No, I don’t. He’s a good-looking guy, and you seemed,” he swirls his hands around, “smitten.”

  I roll my eyes.

  “Don’t roll your eyes at me.”

  “You’re out of your mind.” I’m not sure if I’m mad or fascinated by his approval of Ben.

  “Anyway, I didn’t dig up anything. He’s a good kid from a good family. Then after the shooting, he was all over the news, and maybe I felt bad for him, you know, dreams shattered and all that. And then the girlfriend—”

  “Juliet.” Saying her name sends a shiver down my spine. Beautiful ballerina girl.

  “I remember you telling me about them and their past. But then it seemed they broke up. When I wanted to send him my regards in November, you were all weird about it. I was confused.”

  I drop my head into my hands. “Please tell me nobody else knows about this. I would die.”

  Dad runs a hand through his thinning blond hair. “I can’t keep up with you kids and your hippie-dippie relationships—who’s having sex, who’s dating, who’s a couple.” His arms move as he talks. “When your matchmaker linked you with him, frankly, I was kind of relieved.”

  “Relieved?” I huff again and pick up the menu. I want to hit my father over the head with it. The waitress comes over to take our order. I give her the hand, and she scurries away.

  “Even though he’s a football player, I know what’s on the table with him. He seems legit. Honest. No skeletons. I was glad you matched with him.”

  “And also because you don’t have to investigate a different boyfriend?”

  “Yeah, that too.”

  “Did you forget? He used me, Dad. We had one date, and he dumped me for Juliet. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to forgive or forget that.”

  “Obviously, he made the wrong choice. Any guy who doesn’t pick you is an idiot, since you’re the best girl in the world.”

  I can’t help but smile. “You’re seriously crazy. You know that right?”

  “I don’t understand how women operate, and you happen to be one of them. I want to protect you. Who is this guy from last night? I want to have him checked out too.”

  I murmur into my coffee mug. “Don’t bother.”

  I eat like I haven’t eaten in a year. Dad asks me a million questions about my diet
and exercise, lecturing me on getting my calories and blah, blah, blah. Later, after we talk about school, football, Uncle Pisser, and our usual topics, Dad orders us sweets. When Dad orders sweets, I know something’s wrong.

  “What’s going on? Why the donuts?”

  “I have to tell you something, and I’m afraid that you’re going to be angry.”

  “Something else? Wasn’t the whole I-had-Ben-investigated-thing enough? What did you do now?”

  “I didn’t do anything. Well. Yeah, I guess I did, but I had my reasons. This is serious though.”

  Dad always has “his reasons” for everything he messes up, and mostly, they are ridiculous. “Just say it and get it out.”

  He rubs his forehead. “I’ve been getting calls. Threatening calls.”

  I lean closer, not sure I heard him correctly. “What? Someone’s threatening you?” Dad has crazy fans who sometimes go a little overboard, but I’ve never known him to be in actual danger.

  He reaches across the table and puts his hand on mine. “It’s okay. Really. I’m worried about you.”

  “Me? What do I have to do with it?”

  He holds my hand. I look around the restaurant, worried that my dad is a target from a wacko. “Someone from my past resurfaced. She’s blackmailing me—wants money in exchange for staying away from you.” Dad’s eyes search mine. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

  Am I in danger? Most people don’t connect me and my father. I’m obsessive about keeping our relationship a secret. “What does she want with me? Is she some crazy ex?”

  “Well,” Dad sighs, “sort of.”

  I pull my hand out of his and cross my arms over my chest, waiting. He shifts in his seat as the voices and clanking of silverware fade to the background. When his gaze returns to me, his brows furrow, and his eyes water.

  This is bad.

  “Who is she, Dad?” This time when I ask, my voice shakes.

  He reaches for me across the table, but I’m frozen and don’t let him touch me.

  Then he says three words.

  “She’s your mother.”

  Dad stares at me. My mother? It makes no sense. My mother was Uncle Pisser’s wife, Annie. She died when I was in high school. “My mother’s dead.”