Page 27 of Unbearable

And he doesn’t ask if it’s okay, because he knows it is.

He moves both hands from my waist and lower to the backs of my knees hooking his hands around them. Bringing both my legs to rest on his left shoulder, his head moves to the side pressing my calf against his ear.

There’s a slight grin on his face, but it’s more the intensity in his eyes that makes me nervous. It’s like the night at the bar.

His fingers dance over the waistband of my jeans. He gives me a wink and I lift my hips for him. Slowly he pulls them down over my thighs as his knuckles graze my skin. When they’re at my ankles, he tosses them near his shirt on the floor.

I’m not sure what he’s going to do next, but his mouth is lingering on my calf.

“What time do you have to leave?” he asks.

“I’m already late.” I bend my knees, sliding my feet down his bare chest.

He stops, grabbing my ankles and spreading my legs for him.

“You’re about to bereallylate,” he adds when my legs are spread and my lower half is now completely bare for him.

Tyler’s mouth twists, a half grin that fades quickly as his eyes drop, his fingertips moving and squeezing my upper thighs as he groans, a low, throaty sound I want more of. When his right hand falls away, he leans in, supporting his weight with his arm beside my head.

Picking up the wrench, he presses it against my center, the cool metal causing me to jump.

He pauses, his eyes searching mine, waiting to see my reaction. My hands move to his chest and then his hair, wanting to fist that beautiful brown hair between my fingers. He lets me pull at his hair, trying to make him come forward, but then he stops, taking my wrists in his left hand and pins them down on the table.

Again, the wrench in his hand rubs over my center but never inside.

I wouldn’t think a wrench could do this. But it’s Tyler Hemming we’re talking about. He knows his way around a woman’s body. Just when I think this can’t get any better, his lips are on mine, his elbows holding him up while my wrists are still trapped in his hold.

“You like that?” he asks against my lips, his sweet breath blowing over me.

I can’t even respond because while he asks this, he doesn’t stop moving the wrench in his hand against my clit.

I’m not sure what it is about Tyler andthis, but everything is exactly right and the friction of the cool metal grinding against me is exactly what I want. Writhing under his hands, I begin to move my hips on my own will without his direction. When Tyler comes forward, his chest is heaving with heavy breaths giving me another angle. I kiss his rough and tensed cheek, his jaw, and then his lips, anywhere I can access.

“Fuck.” A shudder rolls through his body. “That’s it…comefor me, baby,” he says, just before plunging his tongue into my mouth.

The warmth starts low and it’s sudden, first a slow burn and then stronger, like the pop of a firecracker.

Tyler’s eyes are dipped, watching the wrench carefully, rubbing where it wouldn’t normally be touching me, moving me against him. When I start to shake against him, my heels dig into his ass, begging him to come closer, harder, anything to make this last longer.

He does,oh God, does he.

My head is right by the carburetor and the smell of gasoline ties me to him in every way. It’s everything I associate Tyler with, cars and engines.

His breath comes out in short gasps, much like mine, when he sees me falling apart on him. “You’re so fucking sexy… fuck.” He moans it this time.

“Oh God!” I scream, my eyes squeezing shut as I throw my arms around his shoulders hanging onto him and clawing at his skin.

“That’s it, baby.” His rough voice is low and tense as he whispers to me. “There you go… fall apart for me.” One hand moves from beside me, wrapping around the back of my neck and bringing his eager kiss to mine. He’s excited and his kiss shows me, wild tongue and frantic gasps telling me how beautiful the sight before him is.

But then he pulls away, dropping the wrench on the ground.

“Have you done that before?” I’m still trying to catch my breath.

“No, never.”

His fingers trace my cheek bone. He gives me a long stare, searching for any regret. When he doesn’t see it, a grin appears and he steps back.

“I’m going to be late for work.”

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