Sidecar Crush (Bootleg Springs Book 2)

by Claire Kingsley

“Are you okay?” she whispered, breaking the silence.

  I looked down at her and tipped her chin up. Met her eyes. “I’m so much more than okay. You?”

  Her lips turned up in a smile. “Yeah, me too.”

  It hit me then. I was falling in love with this girl. I’d always loved her in a way. But this was bigger than a little boy who loved his friend. Bigger than a man who had a crush on a girl from afar. This was so huge, it filled my chest. I wasn’t sure my body could contain it all—all these feelings I was having. I wasn’t quite sure what to do with myself.

  So I held her. Closed my eyes and felt the warmth of her body against mine. Drifted in the sweetness of release. Smelled her hair and kissed her forehead.

  I didn’t worry about what would happen down the road. We’d figure that out when it came. For now, Leah Mae was mine, and I wasn’t sure I ever wanted to let her go. A scary thought, that. But I held it and let it take root, because I knew it was real. It was true. And I wasn’t a man to shy away from the truth, even if it scared me.

  22

  Leah Mae

  I woke up in the morning wrapped in Jameson’s arms. The bed smelled like him. Like us. His body was warm behind me, his chest moving gently against my back. I closed my eyes and breathed it all in.

  Jameson, here with me. Our bodies close. His arm draped around my waist. His scent all over me.

  Light peeked in through the curtain. I wasn’t sure what time it was, but I didn’t care. There was nowhere else I wanted to be.

  Last night had been… it had been everything. Soft and sweet. Hard and rough. Jameson had somehow known every inch of my body. How to touch me, caress me, kiss me. When to hold back and when to unleash. It had been intense and dizzying.

  The ache between my legs was satisfying and pleasant. I nestled in closer to Jameson, feeling his arm tighten around me. The sex had been fantastic—no one had ever fucked me the way he had. But it was more than that. I felt so close to him. Like something deeper had passed between us last night.

  He shifted behind me and I felt his lips on the back of my shoulder. My eyes fluttered closed as he planted soft kisses along my skin. Nibbled my shoulder with his teeth.

  “Mornin’, beautiful,” he said, his voice husky and rough.

  “Morning.” I arched my back a little and pressed my ass against his erection.

  He groaned, a deep rumble in his chest. “God, Leah Mae, you have no idea what you do to me.”

  Grabbing my hip, he pressed his cock against me and sucked on the skin at the base of my neck. I arched into him, my body coming alive.

  “If it’s even half of what you do to me, I’m in trouble,” I said.

  “I reckon we both are.”

  I shifted so I was on my back, and Jameson propped himself up, partially over me. Our mouths came together in a wet, lazy kiss. Hands caressed warm skin beneath the sheets. His kisses were leisurely. Decadent. No hurry. Just our lips and tongues making soft love as we both came awake.

  Morning sex was great, but it was even better after taking care of basic necessities. We kissed for a long while, then both got up to use the bathroom. After I came out, I got back in bed and waited, wondering if I should get dressed. Going back to bed with Jameson sounded a lot better, but I wasn’t sure what he wanted.

  The shower turned on and my heart sank. Was he going to shower and go?

  He poked his head through the door and his shy smile made me melt all over again. “I reckon we should wash all that lake water off. Want to join me?”

  “I’d love to.”

  I got up and went into the bathroom. The shower wasn’t large, but that didn’t matter. We got in and stood close together under the hot spray. He wrapped his arms around me, and I closed my eyes, enjoying the feel of him against me.

  He turned me around and washed my hair. It was tangled after our day at the lake, but he gently ran his fingers through my tresses and massaged my scalp. His touch was arousing and relaxing all at once.

  When my hair was rinsed, he moved it over my shoulder and sucked the water off my neck. I arched my back and rubbed against his hard erection while he growled and nipped at my skin.

  Reaching around, he cupped my breast with one hand while his other slid down my stomach. His fingers found my clit and he caressed it gently. Warmth and pressure pooled between my legs. I leaned back into him, practically purring.

  He played with my nipple, gently pulling, while his fingers worked some kind of magic on my clit.

  “That feels so good,” I said.

  “I love hearin’ you say that.” He kissed down my neck. “And I love makin’ you feel good.”

  I moved my hips, rubbing my ass up and down his solid length. He groaned and slid his hands all over my wet skin. My need for him grew, the sweet ache between my legs demanding more.

  “My dirty girl,” he growled into my ear. “We need to get you clean.”

  He lathered body wash all over me, and the addition of soap made our bodies slick. We rubbed against each other, teasing and tempting. I took his cock in my hand and stroked him hard while he played with my pussy.

  “Baby, I need to fuck you,” he said. “Now.”

  He spun me around, pushing me up against the tile. Lifting my leg, he propped it up on the little bench.

  “Should we get out for a condom?” he asked.

  “I’m on the pill.”

  He bit his lower lip. Grabbed his cock and stroked it a few times, his eyes locked with mine.

  “If you’re sure you’re okay with this,” he said, positioning his cock at my entrance.

  “Yes, I’m sure.”

  With the water cascading over us, soap suds swirling at our feet, Jameson thrust his cock inside me. I draped my arms over his shoulders and kept my leg up on the bench.

  Looking down between us, I watched his cock slide in and out. My nipples were hard, and his abs flexed with each thrust. It was mesmerizing to watch him fuck me like this. To see his glistening erection plunge deep into my pussy, then move out again.

  He held me with one hand and moved the other to massage my clit. His quick strokes had me panting, the exquisite pressure intensifying.

  “Jameson,” I said, nearly breathless. “Don’t stop that.”

  Between the thrusting of his cock stretching me open, and the dance of his fingers across my clit, I was done for. I came in a rush of heat and pleasure, the climax rippling through me. I closed my eyes and moaned with the rhythm of his thrusts, riding the wave of intensity.

  He slowed down so I could catch my breath. I reached between us and grabbed his hard cock as he pulled partway out.

  “Oh darlin’,” he said. “I’m about ready to come.”

  “I want to see it.”

  The corner of his mouth turned up and he plunged into my pussy a few times. His eyes rolled back a little and he grunted.

  “Fuck, you feel so good.”

  His cock pulsed once, and he pulled out. I grabbed him and stroked, hard and fast, jerking my hand up and down his thick length. He braced himself with one hand on the tile behind me, his face close to my ear, and groaned, his body going rigid as the first rope of come burst out from the tip. Then another. Another. His cock throbbed in my hand as he came all over my stomach.

  I loved the sight of his come all over me. I felt dirty in all the best ways. I’d never been so uninhibited with a man. It felt amazing.

  He caught his breath and I eased my leg down off the beach. Taking my face in his hands, he kissed me—leisurely and sweet.

  We cleaned each other off with more soap and gentle caresses. The water was cooling, so we got out and wrapped up in big fluffy towels. I sat on the edge of the bed while he used another towel to softly dry my hair.

  Then we slipped back in bed, our clean bodies tangling beneath the crisp sheets. I nuzzled against him, warm and satisfied. He kissed my forehead and held me in his strong arms.

  “Can I admit something that I’m a little bit afraid to say?” he as
ked, his voice soft.

  “Of course.”

  He held me tighter, like he needed the reassurance of our bodies pressed close. I waited, breathless.

  “I’m in love with you,” he said. “I’ve never been in love before, but I’m certain of it. I’m crazy about you, Leah Mae. And it’s kinda scarin’ me right now.”

  I squeezed him, burying my face in his chest. Tears stung my eyes—tears of happiness and joy.

  “Jameson, I’m in love with you, too,” I said. “I’m so in love with you, I’m not sure what to do with myself.”

  “You are?”

  I giggled softly and looked up at him. “Yes, I am. But why does it scare you?”

  “I reckon I don’t know a lot about love,” he said. “I’m a bit worried I’ll mess it up somehow.”

  I trailed my fingertips over his lips. Down his neck to his chest. “Don’t be afraid. I’ll take care of your heart if you take care of mine.”

  “Darlin’, I’ll take care of it like it’s my most prized possession.”

  “Then it’s yours,” I said.

  He tipped my chin up and kissed me. “I love you to the stars and back, Leah Mae.”

  “I love you too, Jameson. To the stars and back.”

  23

  Leah Mae

  My dad wasn’t on the porch when I got to his house. His health had been steadily improving and he was no longer on oxygen full-time. I’d come over the other day to find him walking around with no tubes—no little cart with a tank of oxygen—and nearly burst into tears. His lungs were still delicate and prone to infection, so we had to be careful. And he tired quickly. But he was getting stronger every day, and the doctor had said he could go back to work soon.

  I let myself in and almost dropped the bag of groceries I was carrying. Stopping in my tracks, I clamped my mouth shut and stared. I couldn’t think to do anything else. There was my daddy, standing in the kitchen, kissing Betsy Stirling.

  My eyes must have been wide as saucers. I was paralyzed, torn between clearing my throat to alert them to my presence, and trying to sneak out the door before they realized I was there.

  Before I could decide what to do, they stopped—truth be told, it had been a very sweet kiss—and Betsy jumped, putting both her hands over her heart.

  “Dear lord, you scared me,” Betsy said, her face flushing red.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

  My dad grinned. It was a little boyish, reminding me of Jameson. “Sweetheart, it’s me who needs to apologize. Didn’t mean for you to see that.”

  “Well…” I straightened and adjusted the grocery bag. “Can I ask if this is… a thing? Or did that just happen right then?”

  They looked at each other and I already knew the answer.

  “I suppose, I hope it’s a thing,” Dad said, his eyes on Betsy. “I haven’t been well enough to court you properly, but I certainly intend to.”

  Betsy smiled. “I’d like that very much.”

  “If that’s all right with you,” Dad said, turning to me.

  “Oh Daddy,” I said. My heart wanted to burst. “Of course it is. This is just… it’s just lovely.”

  “Are you sure you don’t mind?” Betsy asked. “I was telling Clay we really ought to talk to you before we let things go any further.”

  “Mind? No, this is…” I struggled for words, looking between the two of them while my eyes stung with happy tears. “This is so sweet. I’m so happy for both of you.”

  I set the groceries down on the floor—who could worry about canned goods at a time like this?—and rushed forward to grab them both in a hug. It felt so good to see my dad smile, it was all I could do to keep from sobbing.

  After I’d hugged them a few times and wiped away the tears that trailed down my cheeks, we all went out to the porch. Betsy brought out sweet tea, and instead of taking his rocking chair, my dad sat on the bench so he could sit next to her. I sat in the rocking chair, tipping it back and forth slowly as I sipped my tea.

  “I don’t mean to be nosy, but how did this happen?” I asked.

  Dad took Betsy’s hand and twined their fingers together. “Well, Betsy’s been spending a lot of time here, helping me out and whatnot. We often got to talking, especially when I was too sick to get out of bed.”

  “We have a lot in common,” Betsy said. “And enjoy each other’s company quite a lot.”

  “And recently, I decided I wasn’t going to keep lettin’ life pass me by,” Dad said.

  Betsy blushed again. “He kissed my hand first, and asked if he could trouble me for a real kiss.”

  I put my hand on my chest and sighed. “Oh, Daddy, you are a romantic.”

  Dad laughed. “I reckon. I’m just happy she didn’t smack me.”

  Betsy nudged him with her arm. “I’d been wonderin’ if you were ever going to get around to it.”

  “I’m relieved you’re all right with this,” Dad said. “Been a bit worried about how you’d take it. Guess I got myself all tied up over nothing.”

  “You sure did,” I said. “I’m so happy for you both. Really.”

  “Do you have plans to see Jameson tonight?” Dad asked.

  “I do, as a matter of fact,” I said. I’d seen Jameson every day for the past couple of weeks—ever since our day at the lake and the magical night that had followed. We’d had picnics and dinner dates. He’d taken me out on his four-wheeler again to recover more scrap metal from the old car. Last night we’d driven outside town and lain in the bed of his truck to look at the stars. We’d talked and kissed for hours. Then he’d made love to me out there in the open air. My core tingled a little just thinking about it.

  “You planning on staying in Bootleg long term, then?” Betsy asked. “Seeing as how you’re getting cozy with Jameson Bodine and all.”

  I nibbled my lip and shrugged. “I’m not sure. I do have to think about making a living.”

  “You’ll find a way,” Dad said. “I always knew you’d make your way back to Bootleg. I’d sure love to see you settle down here.”

  “Thanks, Daddy,” I said.

  I’d been a little nervous to tell my dad I was dating Jameson. Turned out, there was no need, considering Jameson had beaten me to it. The day after he’d kissed me for the first time, he’d come to visit my dad for a little man-to-man chat. He hadn’t asked my dad’s permission to date me—and my dad hadn’t expected that of him. Dad was old-fashioned, but not quite that old-fashioned. But Jameson had told me it was important to him to let my dad know we were dating, and that his intentions toward me were honorable.

  It had certainly been the right move if Jameson had been hoping to win points with my dad. He admitted he liked to do things old-school. So even though I was a grown woman, he’d appreciated Jameson’s gesture and later told me, more than once, he hoped I’d settle down with Jameson Bodine. It was a far cry from his reaction to Kelvin.

  I stayed a bit longer to chat with Dad and Betsy. They were so cute together, it gave me all kinds of warm squishy feelings. Betsy had brought over supplies to cook dinner for the two of them, so I said my goodbyes and left.

  It was early yet, and Jameson wasn’t picking me up for several hours, so I decided to stop for some coffee and a pastry. Yee Haw Yarn and Coffee had the best blueberry muffins, so I found a parking spot and went inside. It was busy, but there were still a few open tables. I ordered at the counter and took my coffee and muffin to a table near the back.

  The table next to me had a group of ladies with knitting needles clicking away. They talked quietly over their coffee as they knitted. A group of younger women dressed in tank tops and shorts over swim suits—probably tourists—came in a few minutes later and sat behind me.

  I flipped through my Instagram feed while I sipped my coffee. The cell signal was good in here, which wasn’t the case everywhere around town. I followed a number of fashion bloggers and designers, and it was always fun to see their posts and creations. I had a lot o
f unread comments on my posts, but I left them be. Most of them were probably about the show, and nothing I wanted to read. I might have been missing the odd supportive post, but it wasn’t worth it to see all the negative ones.

  My phone buzzed, the little text icon popping up at the top of my screen. I swiped to see who it was from. Kelvin. I didn’t even read it. He’d started texting me again a day or two ago. The first one had just said, you need to call me. I’d replied, no thanks. He’d responded with it’s important, but I’d ignored it. Yesterday he’d texted again to say I needed to call him, but I had decided to stop replying. If he kept it up, I was going to figure out how to block his number. The guy needed to move on.

  The conversation the girls behind me were having caught my attention. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but one of them had said something about Roughing It.

  “I can’t get enough of that show,” she said. “I don’t even know why. Like, it’s ridiculous, right? But it’s so addictive.”

  “Oh my god, I know,” the other girl said. “It’s like a car wreck. You know you should turn it off, but you can’t look away.”

  “Exactly,” she said. “I can’t even with Leah Larkin. Like, who does she think she is? It was obvious from the first episode that she was going to be all over Brock Winston.”

  I swallowed hard and bit my lip. They obviously hadn’t seen me sitting here. My hair was braided, and I was wearing one of Jameson’s Bootleg Cock Spurs baseball caps, so I wouldn’t be as recognizable in public.

  “I know, right?” the other girl asked. “And what was Brock thinking? Leah Larkin isn’t even that pretty. She’s all bony and weird looking. That gap in her teeth? Oh my god, they’re called braces, sweetie.”

  “Oh, I know.”

  “I guess I can’t blame her about Brock, though,” the other girl said. “He is hot.”

  “Yeah, but he’s married,” she said. “That’s low.”

  “Some girls don’t care.”

  “I’d care,” the first girl said. “Anyone who stoops to stealing another woman’s husband is a special kind of whore.”