Page 127 of That Moment
“I don’t think it’s them we have to worry about,” I say, half under my breath.
She looks over at me, concern in her eyes. “My brothers will be okay, I know Axel is a big mouth, but?—”
“It’s not your brothers I’m worried about,” I confess for the first time, “it’s your dad.”
“Hey,” she tugs her feet from my lap and sits up. She places her coffee mug on the table next to us and grabs my hands. “It’s going to be fine, I promise.” I smile back at her reassuringly, but the unease doesn’t leave.
“It’s Sunday.” I intertwine our fingers together, “Should we head to the garage, get to work on the final stages of the Mustang?”
“That sounds like a great idea. I just need to get dressed.” She stands, stretching. I reach out and wrap my arms around her. “Easy, or we’ll never make it to the garage.”
“Mmm,” I nip at her breast through the shirt. “I like that idea better anyway.” I pick her up, making her squeal. I carry her though the house, putting her onto her feet in the bathroom and spinning her around to face me. “I promise to behave and let you get ready.” I plant a soft kiss on her lips, then swat her ass before walking out.
We’reseveral hours into work and I still can’t get my pulse to calm down around her. How can I when she looks like that in cutoff shorts showing miles of leg, a tank top smudged already from leaning over the Mustang, hair piled into a messy knotthat’s losing the battle against the heat. And fuck if that isn’t sexier than anything Chanel’s ever made.
“Pass me the socket,” she says without looking, one hand braced under the hood, the other held out like she’s queen of the damn garage.
I drop it into her palm, but catch her wrist before she pulls away. “You keep bossing me around like that, and I’m gonna make you pay for it.”
She flicks me a glance over her shoulder. “Oh yeah? How exactly?”
I step in close, chest pressed to her back, voice low at her ear. “Thinking I’ll bend you over this hood and fuck you till you’re screaming louder than the air compressor.”
Her laugh comes out shaky. “You’re disgusting.”
“Disgusting,” I echo, sliding my hand down to squeeze her ass through the frayed denim. “That why your thighs are pressed together right now?” I grab a handful of her flesh, squeezing it before swatting her again. “Is that why I know your pussy is already wet and throbbing for me, baby?”
She doesn’t respond, at least not with words. Her body is telling me everything I need to know though. Her back arches, and she thrusts her ass back against my hand harder.
“That’s what I thought,” I chuckle before stepping away from her. Her head snaps up, the wanton look in her eyes turning to frustration. “Like a cat in heat.” I laugh.
“Asshole.” She swats me with the wrench, but her cheeks are pink when she turns back to the engine. But it’s not much later, and she catches me staring at her again. “What?”
“Nothing,” I rasp, tugging her in by the waistband of her shorts. I kiss her hard, then pull back just enough to whisper, “Just thinkin’ how fucking good life looks right now.”
Her smile softens, her hands sliding up my chest. “Are you happy?”
“Yes,” the question startles me a little, only because I didn’t realize she was questioning that. “Yes, so fucking, incredibly happy.”
“Me too.” She kisses me this time. When we break apart, she rests her forehead against mine. Both of us were sweaty and filthy from the garage, but grinning like idiots.
Adrienne’s perched on the fender, legs swinging while I sort through tools. Sweat glistens on her collarbone, strands of hair sticking to her neck, and she looks… settled. And for once, instead of spiraling, instead of questioning it, I just enjoy it. I let myself truly believe that she belongs here, in this quiet garage with me, instead of in some skyscraper office in another state.
I’m halfway to cracking a joke about her being the hottest grease monkey I’ve ever seen when her phone buzzes on the workbench. She glances over, and for a split second, her whole face tightens before she snatches it up. The screen flashes long enough for me to catch the words:Los Angeles, CA.
She doesn’t answer. Just hits the side button, shoving it face-down.
“Spam call?” I ask lightly, attempting to hide the tension I feel.
Her laugh’s too quick. “Probably. I get random ones all the time.”
I nod, but something in my chest twists. Because she didn’t look at it like spam. She hops down, wipes her hands on a rag, and slides next to me, brushing her shoulder against mine. “Come on, don’t look so serious. We’re almost done with cleanup, and then we can go back to your place and have some fun cleaning up in the shower.”
“I like the sound of that.” I swallow down my fear and kiss her. Because while she’s smiling, my brain won’t shut the fuck up.
What if this L.A. thing isn’t over? What if I’m just the safe stopover before she goes back to chasing bigger, shinier dreams?
She leans into me, happy, relaxed, like nothing’s wrong. And I wrap my arm around her waist, pulling her close, pretending I don’t feel the first cracks of doubt splintering through my chest.
