Page 156 of Dove
I could see the tractor in the distance, the road a straight shot. He’d been at it since early morning, and he’d gotten a lot done so far, the large expanse of field laying cut, but it was just the first of many acres. He was working efficiently, and it wasn’t like he couldn’t do this himself, but I wanted him to show me how, so I could give him a break. I came prepared to persuade him if he gave me kick back on it, and I wasn't just talking about the lunch I'd packed.
He’d explained the mechanics of it all while looking over the tractor, but I knew he’d been doing it more to appease me than anything. Every time I mentioned relieving him, he’d grunt noncommittally. I’d let it go, because I didn’t want to fight right before he left to go spend long hours harvesting, but if he thought I was going to sit back and stay at home while he handled it all himself, he had another thing coming.
I slowed the truck down and pulled off onto a small shoulder which led into a self-made trail, one that had been forged from years of trucks and tractors driving down it. The truck rattled as it crossed each bump and divot in the rough dirt path, my body jostling until I parked. I turned the key, killing the engine, but left it dangling in the ignition as I grabbed our lunch and hopped out of the cab. There wasn’t much through traffic on this stretch of road, and I knew nobody would touch his truck. Thankfully, we didn’t have to worry much about that type of stuff in Haven, and it was another reason I loved living here so much, even if I sometimes longed for a change of pace.
I sent Josh a text to warn him I was here, but waited until the tractor was faced my way, waving so he could see me. It took a minute or two for the big machine to slow to a stop, but when it did, I saw his hand extend out, waving me over, indicating it was safe for me to approach. I’d overheard too many conversations between Gareth and other local farmers about how easy it could be for life-alternating accidents to happen from carelessness.
My boots swished through the freshly cut hay as I crossed the field, the occasionally stem brushing the bare skin of my calf. The tractor grew larger the closer I got, the idling engine loud but humming smoothly. We’d made sure to go through it top to bottom, fixing any of the parts it needed and oiling everything until it sounded like it had when Gareth first bought it. It might have been tedious work, but being beside Josh while we fixed the tractors and prepared them for harvesting were some of my favorite moments. His gentle voice as he explained what he was doing, his guiding hands as he allowed me to do it on my own, the heat of his proximity as he hovered, watching over my shoulder, his encouragement a warm exhale along the shell of my ear.
By the time I made it to the steps of the tractor, I was overly warm and flushed, and not just from the sun beating down on me.
The door of the cab opened the moment my boot touched the first step, Josh reaching out to help me up, making sure I kept my balance as I climbed. His hand was callous-rough and slightly sweaty where it had been wrapped around the steering wheel, but on my skin it felt like cool water rushing over heated stone, leaving a steamy haze behind.
I all but fell into his lap, nowhere else for me to go, as he heaved me inside the rest of the way and shut the door, blocking out most of the engine noise.
Sitting sideways, my knees were cramped, brushing up against the closed door, but there was nowhere else I’d rather be.
“Hi,” I breathed, slightly out of breath from my walk and just from being in Josh’s space. The air inside the cab smelled like freshly cut hay and the bodywash he used, a potent combination that had me swaying in to steal a kiss before he could say anything back.
He smiled into the kiss, his hands tightening where they framed my waist just above my jean shorts. “Hi,” he parroted, his lips brushing mine.
I twisted to face him better, reclining until my back pressed against the steering wheel.
“How’s it going? Looks like you got a lot done.”
He nodded. “Not too bad. Hit a snag a few miles back where a divot formed that I hadn’t seen, and I nearly got the tractor stuck. Managed to avoid it just in time.”
“Thank goodness for that.” I couldn’t even imagine what we’d do if he’d gotten stuck. Have to call for help, obviously, and who knew how long that might take. “I brought lunch!” I shrugged the bag off my shoulder and held it up in offering.
“Just in time.” Josh’s hand slid up under the back of my top to palm the soft skin of my lower back, making me shiver. “I’m starved.”
I ignored his touch, even though every swipe of his hand was a shot of desire that went straight between my legs. Plopping the bag into my lap, I opened the top, rambling, “Well, I got here right on time then. I made sure to bring a few different things, since I wasn’t sure what you’d want or how hungry you’d be.”
Josh’s other hand skimmed along my thigh until it came in contract with the bag. His hand fisted the top, closing it shut. “I’m not hungry for any of that, Dove.”
“N-no?” I stuttered, mind going blank at the husky rasp of his voice. “What did you want then?”
“Oh,” he rumbled suggestively, moving the bag off my lap and to the floor beside his seat. “I have an idea.” His hands guided me easily until I was astride his lap, facing away from him with my back resting against his broad chest.
My own chest heaved as his hands flirted with the backs of my knees, his fingertips trailing over the sensitive skin there. They moved higher, chasing the goose bumps his touch coaxed to life across my skin, until his hands were petting the inside of my thighs.
“I’ve thought about you all damn morning.” Josh’s confession was a gravelly exhale behind my ear. He nuzzled the skin there, biting down softly. I gasped, my hands reaching back for him.
“Put your hands on the steering wheel, Dove,” Josh ordered, punctuated by another stinging nip.
I wanted to argue, but his hands were slowly making their way toward the button of my shorts, and I was afraid he’d stop if I protested. When my hands curled around the sun-warmed rubber, he pressed a soft kiss to the skin he’d abused.
“Good girl.”
I all but melted back into him, his praise a heady rush.
“You’re about all I’ve had to think about”—he continued, his large hand palming my lower belly—“when there’s nothing but miles of boring hay to look at.” The tips of his fingers slipped under the waist of my shorts, rubbing back and forth along the delicate skin above the fabric of my underwear. With each swipe, it was like he was creating some sort of charged sexual static that went straight to my clit. I squirmed in his lap, little movements to encourage him to go lower, and I nearly sobbed in relief when he popped the button of my shorts. The zipper followed a second later, the sound of it opening swallowed by the muted rumble of the tractors idling engine.
“Josh, maybe you should?—”
My suggestion to shut the tractor off was cut short as his hand slid into my shorts, inciting a gasp from me as his callused hand slipped under denim and cotton to cup me.
“The only thing I should be doing right now is finding out how wet you are for me.”
