Page 24 of Grease & Grips
He sighs then drags a finger down my chest, trailing lower until he’s teasing over the crusty towel that we used as a blanket. “So what you’re saying is… we don’t have time for round two?”
Not even trying to hide it, my cock starts rising to the occasion. I groan, “God, I wish we did, but I’d rather not get walked in on mid-stroke by my boss.”
Andrés grins. “Wouldn’t be the worst thing caught on camera.”
My blood runs cold. “Cameras.”
His brow furrows, “You forgot?”
I nod, already mentally scrubbing footage. “I’ll erase it.”
“Or leave it. Give the morning crew something to talk about over coffee.”
My eyes go wide at the suggestion. Imagine the guys walking in and seeing Andrés slathered in motor oil getting back shots on the floor of the shop. If I didn’t get fired, they’d never let me live it down.
Or worse… they’d never stop congratulating me. I’m pretty sure most of them think I’m celibate, which… before Andrés, wouldn’t have been far off.
He shifts, settling more weight on top of me and nuzzling his face further in the crook of my neck. “Should we at least grab breakfast? Is there anything good to eat around here?”
“Not really,” I admit. “Anything good’s at least a thirty-minute drive.”
His features tighten, jaw working through whatever letdown he’s feeling.
“But,” I add, patting his thigh, “I can provide one perfectly acceptable vending machine breakfast, alongside a fresh pot of the cheapest coffee this small-town garage can buy.”
His teeth tug at his bottom lip, “You on the menu too?”
“Depends how many bills you got in your wallet,” I say through a grin.
Planting a kiss to his forehead I peel myself from him and pad across the shop, bare ass out and proud. Not that he’s complaining. I scoop my clothes off the floor, get dressed in a few stiff, quick moves, and fish a couple crumpled bills from my wallet.
The vending machine coughs up two honeybuns and a pair of powdered donut packs like it’s offering condolences. I start the coffee, some cheap shit that’ll taste like burnt tires and battery acid, and head back.
Andrés is halfway dressed when I return, tugging his shirt into place, fingers lingering over each button. I hand him his pre-packaged pastry and sit beside him. He smiles at the offering. Silence envelops us as we eat. Quiet chewing, quiet thoughts. His gaze flicks to mine and holds.
“I’m glad this happened,” he says softly. “Breaking down in the middle of nowhere didn’t end up being all bad.”
I nod, but it’s a lie. Not because it wasn’t good. Hell, it was better than good. I just know in a few hours, he’ll leave. He’ll get in that car with a fixed axel, and I’ll still be here tasting him on my tongue like a secret I’m not allowed to keep.
Nothing stays. Not even something that felt this good.
But it did feel good, didn’t it? Better than anything I’ve ever felt and as sad as I am… shouldn’t I at least be thankful I got it at all? If a man like Andrés can choose me, even just for a night, then I can choose to see this for what it is. It’s not some sad little end.
But a damn good moment.
One I got to have and hopefully, for once, that’s enough.
Chewing is the only sound in the shop. Neither of us sure what else there is to say that wouldn’t make this worse.
“How long will the repair take?” he asks finally, voice still scratchy from sleep and… everything else.
“Couple of hours, maybe,” I say, around a bite of vending machine honeybun that suddenly tastes like cardboard.
He nods and we’re right back to the awkward quiet. This time it stretches so long it starts humming. I look at him to watch the way his lashes catch the light. The slow bob of his throat as he swallows. The golden sheen of his skin even under flickering fluorescents.
He’s gorgeous. Unfairly so. Somehow even more in a space that should’ve dulled it with its trash on the floor and grease on the walls. Even if the filthiest parts of this shop feel like the snapshot of my life, but he’s still here shiny and perfect.
“There’s a shower in the back if you wanna clean up before anyone else gets here,” I offer. I don’t know why. Maybe just to say something that isn’tplease stay.
