We argued about what to watch before we finally settled on a series on Netflix that Aubrey babbled on about. It was a show about a motorcycle gang with the mum from that old TV show, Married with Children. We had a TV in the day room in prison, but there was no way a show about bikers was on the approved list of programs. I was a few years behind on even the meaningless things like television shows.

“You know, when I first saw your motorcycle that day in the rest stop parking lot, I imagined myself riding on the back of it, my arms wrapped around that guy.” She pointed to some blonde bloke on the television, riding a Harley with bright white sneakers. “I wondered what it would feel like to ride.”

“Oh yeah?” She lifted her legs onto the couch and stretched them out. Her knees were bent, but her feet reached my thigh. Without thinking, I took one of her feet into my hands and started to rub. She looked pensive at first, but her shoulders quickly relaxed. “Feel good?”

“Mmmm…hmmm.”

“Guess I’ll be taking a trip back down to Hermosa Beach.”

“Why is that?”

“To get my bike. I owe you a ride.”

She closed her eyes as I kneaded her feet. “I’d like that.”

Me too, Princess. Me, too.

“You wanna know what I thought the first time I saw you?”

She chuckled. “Probably not.”

“I couldn’t keep my eyes off of you. You were gorgeous, but something about the way you smiled as you played with that bobblehead just did something to me.”

“I thought you hated me.”

“I wondered what it would feel like to ride, too. Only I wasn’t thinking about the bike one bit.”

Our eyes caught, and I watched as her pupils actually dilated. Fuck. She was getting turned on. I pressed my thumbs into the arch of one of her feet, and she closed her eyes and let out a small moan. “God, I love that sound.” I heard the thickness in my own voice. My cock was growing to match it.

As I rubbed, I felt the tightness from her muscles flee. But it was replaced by a different type of tension. A raw sexual energy filled the air around us. She was relishing my touch, slowly giving into how it made her feel. My hands at her feet moved up to her calf. Her breathing became jagged with each knead. God, I missed the feel of her skin beneath my fingers. I wanted her body under mine so badly, it was almost painful to keep myself from pushing too fast. My hand slid up to the back of her knee, and I inched closer to her. Her body was so responsive to my touch.

“Chance,” she moaned with her eyes shut.

I leaned into her slowly. “Aub—”

The sound of the doorbell was the equivalent to throwing a bucket of ice water over Aubrey. Her eyes flew open and bulged from her head, and her body became rigid. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out who she thought was at the door.

“What if it’s…Richard?”

“So what? We didn’t do anything wrong.”

“But…I didn’t tell him about us. You showed up the other night on my doorstep and said you were leaving town. I’m pretty sure that raised his suspicion enough. If he finds you here, he’ll think something is going on between us.”

I was suddenly defensive. I stood. “There is something going on between us.”

“You know what I mean.”

The doorbell rang again. I wanted nothing more than to stomp to the front door, swing it open and tell Dick to take a hike. But Aubrey was looking panicked. I raked my fingers through my hair. “What do you want me to do? Slip out the back door?” I was being sarcastic. Although, the way she looked at me told me it was exactly what she wanted. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I’m sorry. I really am. I…I…just can’t let him find you here.”

We stared at each other for a long moment. Leaving like this felt monumental to me. Like I was the other guy. Not Dick. It hurt like hell, but I did what she wanted. Without another word, I left out the back door.

I waited by the back window until I saw him inside, then walked around to the front. I couldn’t watch from the outside in again. It would kill me. And there was no way in hell I could stick around to possibly watch his car spend the night. So, I left. There might have been tire marks on the street outside of her house—but I left.

Steamed, I got on the highway and headed back toward Hermosa Beach. It was either that or wallow in my own self-pity with Carla, and I didn’t trust myself to stick around at the moment. I made it about an hour before my gas light was flashing. Pulling into the combo rest stop-gas station, I parked and leaned my head on the steering wheel for a few minutes.