Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 63055 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63055 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
“All right, dropping the engine.” I beckon her over to me. “First thing we do is disconnect the battery and drain the fluids.”
I walk her through it, and all the while, her scent fills my nostrils, reminding me of how it felt to have her riding on the back of my Triumph, those thighs parted behind me, those arms wrapped tightly around my waist.
I want to get those legs apart in a different way this time.
But I detect the slightly acrid smell of fear, so I give her space. She’s nervous.
I like her nervous, and I like ordering her around, but there’s a subtle line here I don’t wanna cross. On edge is one thing—actually scared is another.
She doesn’t know what she’s doing, and some of the clamp bolts on the hoses are too hard for her to unscrew. I watch her struggle with one for a while before she straightens and looks over her shoulder. “Little help?”
I grin and slide off the hood of the old Mustang I’ve been working on refinishing. “I was wondering if you’d ask.”
She makes a scoffing sound. “You could’ve offered.”
“I was timing how long you’d struggle on your own. Three minutes and forty-eight seconds. Controlling much?”
I step in close to smother her affect of shocked outrage. She’s trying to hand me the wrench, but I don’t take it. Instead, I cover her hand and position myself behind her. “Your angle was wrong, that’s all.” I cage her between my two arms and lean forward forcing her to practically fold herself over the car. I want to grind my erection into her heart-shaped ass, but I resist. If I go there, I might not be able to pull back. Plus, that would actually constitute harassment. Which I’m not totally above, depending on the circumstances.
Again, subtle line.
I guide her hand to secure the bolt in the socket wrench. Truth is— it wasn’t the angle. She’s just not strong enough, but I wanted to get my arms around her. Breathe her scent up close. Keep her on edge and a little turned on.
It’s working because I detect the scent of her arousal like a heady perfume.
It makes my head swirl.
With a cock of my wrist, I pry the bolt loose and step back.
Breathe the scents of the shop and autumn air, already turning hot as the morning’s gone on.
Try to get my head back.
“Thanks,” she says softly, without turning around.
Damn Cave Hills princess and her perfect ass luring me into making a colossal full moon mistake.
Sloane
My skin prickles everywhere. I still feel his heat at my back, even though he stepped away. I don’t know what to think about this guy. He’s a cocky dick, for sure.
But so. Hot.
Last time we were together, I would’ve sworn he hated me—he blew so much scorn and derision my way. And that’s still present today. But he’s also coming on to me.
Touching my hair.
Molding his body against mine to loosen the bolt, those military dog tags he wears clinking softly between us.
The big brawny jerk makes my knees go weak.
And I’m not usually what they call boy-crazy. In fact, when I moved to Cave Hills to live with my aunt and cousin, I told everyone I had a serious boyfriend back home just to keep myself out of the dating pool. After the mafia guy’s men showed up, it became even more important that I not get too close to anyone. Those maniacs will go after anyone.
I don’t have time for boys. Not when I have to steal a car every few weeks to feed the mafia monster.
Besides, me getting close to someone would only make them a target, as I learned last week with the asshole’s threat against my cousin.
I stop and wipe my forehead. The air’s getting hot—October in Arizona still feels like a summer day back in Michigan. Or maybe I’m just hot from having Muscles spooning me from behind.
“Harder than you imagined?” It’s not quite a jeer, so I answer honestly.
“Yeah. I don’t know if I could do it on my own. Not if the bolts are that tight.”
He tips his head. “I’m sure you could pay a guy a hundred bucks an hour to loosen bolts.”
“Are you offering?”
“Nope. I’m staying the hell away from all the trouble you bring. That’s the only reason I’m teaching you right now, Legs. I want your operation out of this shop.”
That shouldn’t hurt my feelings. It’s exactly what I want, too. And yet the familiar sensation of being unwanted hits me squarely in the chest.
I’ve always been trying to prove I’m worth keeping. My mom died in childbirth, and even though my dad never came out and said it, I know he blamed me. So I worked hard to make him happy. To not be any trouble. To make him believe her death wasn’t for nothing.