Page 30 of The Mechanic's Virgin

This is it. This is the beauty of my life.

“Do you want to play marbles?” Kate asks Benji, but I go over to them and lift them both into my arms.

“Listen, you two. Why don’t we wash up? Your momma’s probably got lunch ready by now.”

They both cheer as I carry them toward the cottage. It looks better than ever now. Grace’s father didn’t make good on this threat to sell it. Instead, he kept it and allowed me to buy it off him. I guess once he realized I wasn’t going anywhere, and Grace wasn’t leaving me, he chilled out.

He still keeps his distance. He definitely doesn’t like the fact that Grace chose a “simple” life over whatever life he had planned for her, but he’s no longer toxic. He’s civil, and for right now, that’s enough.

I still run the garage with Nick and Craig, and we even hired another guy, Dave, to help with all the new work we’re getting. He does custom bodywork, which really started to bring in newcustomers and a lot more cash. Business is booming. So is our family.

Grace insisted we keep the cottage’s original charm, but I went ahead and upgraded the old plumbing, fixed some of the old windows, and Nick and Craig helped me build on a sunroom off the backside that she has filled with plants and flowers and a vintage white couch where she reads to the kids at night. Never in my life did I think I’d end up the guy with the quaint house, the great wife, and the two kids, but that’s me. Hell, we’ve even got a tire swing hanging from the maple tree in the back yard.

Four years ago, when Grace and I got married, I knew I was the luckiest man alive. What I didn’t know was just how much better our lives could get.

When we step inside, the kitchen smells like Grace’s special grilled cheese–with sour dough bread and basil–and tomato soup. She’s standing at the stove in one of my old T-shirts and a pair of shorts that show off her absolutely perfect legs. She has her hair up in a messy bun and has tomato sauce on her cheek.

She turns as I lean in and lick it off. “There you are!” She beams, kissing me as the kids giggle. “Lunch is basically all ready. Kids, make sure you wash your hands before sitting down!”

“Okay!” they reply in unison.

She laughs and turns back to the stove. I wrap my arms around her waist and kiss her on the back of the neck.

“Mmmm,” she hums. “Grease, oil, and…sawdust? My favorite designer cologne.”

“Hey, you know me,” I chuckle. “You forgot the overpowering scent of testosterone.”

The kids have their backs turned, so I take the opportunity to pinch her on the ass, causing her to jump. “Hey!” she whispers. “Your children are around!”

“They didn’t see anything,” I whisper back. “And don’t pretend like you don’t love it.”

She checks behind me to make sure the kids are out of range and nods, a naughty gleam in her eye. “You know I do.”

After everyone’s washed up, we have family lunch at the table. Benji tells Mom about his meteor, and Kate and Grace come up with a back story for her little stuffed rabbit and come to the conclusion that she was probably a princess in a fantasy land before coming to live with Kate.

I steal glances at my wife, and she sends me back little secret smiles like we’re still dating and about to sneak off behind our parents’ backs.

After lunch, Grace puts the kids down for their naps while I clean up. Once I’m finished, I go into the living room and find her standing there, her arms crossed below her breasts, one hip cocked out to the side, with an expression on her face that makes my blood go warm instantly.

“Have I ever told you how amazing you are?” she asks.

“Who me?” I reply, just a slight amount of sauce in my voice.

She nods as I step closer, giving methe eye. The one all men know and love when it comes from their woman. “The kids are down, the house is clean, and I’m in the mood to show my husband just how much I appreciate him for being the most wonderful man I could ever imagine.”

As blood rushes to my cock, I sweep forward and snatch her into my arms, kneading the warm flesh of her tight ass with my fingertips. “I still can’t believe I get to wake up tothisevery day.”

“Just that?” she teases, biting her lower lip.

Ah, an invitation.

I carry her into the bedroom and lay her down on the bed–the same bed where I first took her when we moved into the cottage together. The walls have photos of our life on them now,and the floors have been redone, but everything feels just as raw and electric between us as it did the first time.

As it doesevery time.

I slip my hand up her shirt, squeeze her perfect breast. “And this,” I tell her, lifting the hem and finding her nipple with my lips. I suck gently, causing her to gasp. I kiss down her soft, flat tummy.

“And this.”

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