Dirty Girl

Muddy Waters

Jake and Jordan pulled into the resort parking lot, the truck coated with a fine layer of red dirt from the morning's adventures. The golden Maui sun beamed high overhead, heating the stones on the palm-lined driveway. Jake released the ratchet on the tie-downs and called over his shoulder.

“Can you undo your side?”

Jordan stared at the contraption, puzzled. “No, yeah—of course,” she stammered. “Just one question. How do I do that?”

Jake chuckled and walked around to her side of the truck. He pressed gently against her back and guided her hands to the ratchet.

“I think I remember this screen from Ghost,” Jordan quipped, glancing up into his dark eyes.

He flashed that intoxicating smile—the one with those deep dimples—and started humming Unchained Melody. She laughed.

“I can’t believe you know that song!”

“My granddaddy used to play it on a phonograph in his parlour.”

She playfully smacked his arm.

Jake smirked. “Alright, enough flirting. We gotta finish up before the foreman fires us for incompetence. I can’t afford to lose this job.”

“Sounds like the boss is a real hard-ass,” she whispered, tilting her head for a better look at Jake’s backside.

“I heard that!” he said, placing a white hard hat on his head and handing her a bright orange one.

She read the sticker aloud: “Everett Co. Ltd. Hard hats required while in construction zones.”

Looking up at him, she said, “When I said I wanted to help, I didn’t know I’d be building mud pits and rolling in dirt.”

“Oh, don’t worry.” He tossed her a shovel with a wink. “You’ll still look great—even dirty.”

Why did he have to enunciate the word ‘dirty’ like that? she wondered, biting her lip. And why was every little thing he did causing her body to ache with desire?

Jordan shook her head but couldn’t hide her grin. Together, they staked out a ten-foot square and got to work digging up the top layer of grass. The soil was stubborn, clinging to their shovels, but their easy banter made it bearable.

“This feels suspiciously like manual labor,” Jordan teased, wiping sweat from her brow and leaving a streak of dirt in its place.

“What gave it away? The shovels or the blisters?” Jake shot back, grinning.

“Both. Definitely both.” She giggled.

By the time they’d dug the pit, brought in water, and mixed it into the soil, they were covered in mud. Jordan stepped back to admire their work—and promptly slipped, landing on her backside, squealing as she did so.

“Oh my—” She looked up at Jake, wide-eyed, then burst into laughter. “Help me up?”

Jake reached for her hand—and she yanked. He toppled forward, landing on his knees in the mud, right on top of her.

“Ever done any mud wrestling?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh no. You wouldn’t dare.”

But it was too late. Laughter erupted as they playfully wrestled in the thick muck, breathless with amusement. When the giggles finally subsided, Jake helped her to her feet.

“C’mon,” he said, brushing mud off his arm. “Let’s hit the ocean.”

They walked side by side, mud dripping with every step. The warm turquoise water sparkled invitingly, and they waded in, the gentle waves washing away the grime.

Jordan watched Jake as he moved through the water—his wet khakis clinging to his powerful thighs, his sun-kissed skin stretched over defined muscles. She sank deeper into the water, trying to cool the heat building inside her.

When she resurfaced, Jake was inches away. He raised a hand to her face and gently wiped a smudge of mud from her forehead. Their eyes locked.

What do his lips taste like? What do they feel like? She desperately longed for him to kiss her.

Jake slid his hand behind her head, fingers tangled in her hair, tilting her face toward his. His other hand cupped her cheek, thumb grazing her lips.

“I bet your lips taste salty,” he murmured.

She licked them, barely whispering, “Yes.”

“Tell me to kiss you, Jordan.”

His voice was low, raw, commanding.

“I think I might simply die if you don’t kiss me right now.”

Jake let out a groan. Then his lips were on hers—soft and hungry. His tongue found hers, and she welcomed it, arching her hips toward him instinctively. Her fingers gripped his biceps, and he pulled away just enough to rest his forehead on hers.

He smiled, kissed her again, then whispered, “Your lips do taste salty.”

Without warning, he scooped her up, straddling her against his hips. She could feel him growing hard beneath his khakis, and she savored the delicious pressure as he trailed kisses down her neck.

Then suddenly, he stopped.

He set her back down gently, took her hand, and grinned.

“Come on. I want to show you something.”