Page 87 of Revival

He chuckles. “I never thought I’d say that again.” Just as suddenly, the smile melts from his face as what looks like a decade of guilt settles in its place. “I’m ready to try again. I mean, I even got a job here.”

“Something about oil and grease really calls to you, huh?”

The corner of his full mouth tips up. “What can I say? I like to get dirty.” His eyebrows bounce, and his gaze heats.

A shiver races down my spine at the promise in his voice.

Laying my palm flat on the center of his warm, muscled chest, I push him back. I roll my eyes at the measly inch of space I create. “Unlike you, I get dirty enough at my job, so a mechanic shop isn’t all that appealing to me.”

“Don’t lie.” Spencer yanks me flush against his torso, his mouth dipping low to the shell of my ear. “I know just how dirty you can be, Kitten.”

At my full-body tremble, Spencer laughs again. The sound is rich, uninhibited.

“Come on.” He releases me to take my hand in his warm grip and tugs me away from my car.

“Where are we going?”

Spencer turns halfway around with a full smile on his face. I’m instantly transported back in time to blue skies, teal water, and sandy beaches.

“I have to show you something.”

20

Spencer

I never putmuch stock into what shape my heart was in until I started spending time around Cortney Powell. The way the damn thing hammers against my ribs has me about ready to check in to the local hospital for a stress test. With her hand firmly in mine, I kill the lights to the auto shop and drag her out with me. The door locks behind us with a deafeningclick.

My dick twitches at her proximity after a month apart. Need invades my system as if it was injected straight into my veins. It would have been easy to take the edge off with a quick fuck right there on her car in the vacant garage. But I’m not looking for a quick anything when it comes to Cortney Powell. Not anymore. I’m here for the long haul.

“Hope you’re confident in your choice to follow because your car is locked in there until morning.”

“This feels a little bit like a hostage situation.”

I look down to search her face, finding only the sarcasm that I love. “Don’t worry. I’ll make it the sexy kind.”

“Those are my favorite.”

I roll my eyes and lead her to my truck. “I know. I’ve seen your e-book library.”

She gasps in outrage. “When?”

“You left your Kindle on the patio when you went to shower one night before dinner.”

“Spencer Stone.” Her tone is all hot and bossy around my name. “That’s like going through a woman’s underwear drawer.”

“I plan to do that someday too.”

She pats me on the arm with hardly any force, and I repay her by tapping her ass when I open the passenger door to my truck. “Up you go, Kitten.”

She glares without heat, reinforcing her position when she swiftly plants a kiss on my lips as she settles in the seat.

My gut tightens pleasantly in surprise.

Fuck. Why did I deny myself her mouth for so long?

“Put away the claws,” I order against her lips as I grab the silver buckle. After strapping her in, I climb into my side.

“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?” she asks over the purr of the engine.

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