Page 36 of It's Going to Be a Chrome Christmas
“Let’s just say I called in a favor.” Mr. Jones shrugged. “I also owe the man a bottle of Scotch.”
Cayden was too pissed to be patient for conversation. “And?” he prompted.
Mr. Jones gave him an exasperated look. Then he took Cayden by the shoulders and spun him around.
There in Mr. and Mrs. Wynn’s driveway stood Trixie.
The wrench fell through his fingers and clattered to the cement. Fuck, it had only been three days, but she was breathtaking. She stood in a pair of yoga pants, a white tank that had a massive grease stain, and her work boots with her hair thrown up into a messy pony. She was fucking beautiful.
Mr. Jones leaned in. “You’re welcome.”
Trixie took a tentative step forward, and that was all he needed. He ran to her. She wrapped herself around him in that special way only she did. Her arms and legs held him tight and her face buried in his neck. Fuck, she felt exquisite, smelled even better.
He could feel her tears and it broke his heart. He had not been the only one to feel the effects of their separation.
Cayden carried her inside the garage. He didn’t see Mr. Jones leave, only noting that his rehabilitation officer was no longer there. He placed her back against Mr. Wynn’s truck on the passenger side. Slowly he lifted her face off of him so he could see those milk chocolate eyes he loved so much.
Her wet cheeks killed him. He carefully wiped her tears away with his thumbs. He opened his mouth with the intent to bare his heart and soul to her, but she was too quick. Trixie claimed his lips, and speech was no longer possible.
She fit against him like she was his missing puzzle piece. Her breasts pressed up against his hard chest, her legs wrapped around his hips. He was dying to be inside her, but she deserved better than a quick fuck up against Mr. Wynn’s truck in his garage where anyone could walk in on them. Not that Cayden’s dick seemed to care about any of that. It was straining painfully against the zipper of his jeans. He regretted going commando now.
Her hands left his shoulders to squeeze between them. Fuck, she had his jeans undone and his dick in her hand before he could contemplate what she was doing. Oh, he’d give his left kidney for a condom right then.
“Wait, wait…” He managed to get out. Fuck, why was he stopping this again? Right, condom. “Baby, we can’t?—”
The relief in her eyes at seeing him had been replaced with pure desire. She reached into her tank top and pulled out a foil square from between her breasts.
She didn’t need to ask him twice. “You are wonderful, amazing, and beautiful,” he told her before devouring her mouth.
Her yoga pants were the biggest issue. She had to release her hold on his hips so he could wiggle the band down and off her right leg. He trailed his knuckles through her wet folds, needing no more than that to know she was ready to take him.
His pants around his ankles and hers hanging off of her left around her boot, he took her up against Mr. Wynn’s truck. It was fast and quick, redefining his personal definition ofpremature. But it was needed. They were connected once again in the most primal of ways, reassuring both of them that the other was really there.
Their separation had been hell, but their reunion was pure heaven.
They were thankfully sated and dressed by the time Mr. Wynn came out to see the progress of his truck. He found them sitting on the garage floor with Cayden’s back to the front passenger wheel and Trixie cradled between his knees. The knowing look Mr. Wynn gave them said that he was aware Cayden’s house arrest had been terminated and he was not surprised in the least to see Trixie there.
As he walked them inside for dinner, Mr. Wynn told Trixie he’d give her a ride back home once it was curfew. “So long as your boyfriend fixes whatever he messed up on it.”
Cayden scoffed but Trixie laughed. God, he’d missed that sound.
He was unable to release her hand during dinner. He ignored the kissy faces, the winks, the catcalls, and the innuendos from his housemates. Trixie was back, and he was no longer under house arrest. All was right in his world.
Weekend curfew demanded that Trixie leave by eight o’clock. Cayden had a hard time letting her go. He was quite tempted to try to sneak her up to his room for the night. It seemed everyone was anticipating that move, and they hadn’t been out of Mr. Wynn’s sight since seven-thirty.
Finally, Cayden had to accept that she had to go home, and he had to go back up to his room like a horny teen.
“You’ll see me tomorrow,” she told him again. They were by the house’s front door. Mr. Wynn was sitting on the living room couch in full view of them with a newspaper in front of his unmoving eyes.
Cayden stood before her, their hands laced, his right knee between her legs. Christ, he still couldn’t believe he’d taken her against Mr. Wynn’s truck with the garage door open. Anyone could have seen them. And she’d initiated it! It was exceedingly hot and utterly reckless.
He didn’t want to let her go, but he wanted to give her something of his. Cayden asked her to wait while he ran up to his room. They only had a few minutes before curfew so he needed to be quick. She’d clung to his hands as he’d pulled away.
Up in his room, Cayden rushed over to his dresser and pulled out the only thing of value he owned. Keeping it clutched in his hand, he ran back to the top of the stairs in time to see Mr. Wynn and Trixie exiting the door.
“Wait!” he called, running down the steps. His eyes were only on Trixie. Something had changed in hers, though. The light that had been in them when he’d gone upstairs was now dull, wild. She looked panicked. “What happened?” he demanded.
Had one of the house residents done or said something to her? Shit, he shouldn’t have left her alone. The damn present could have waited.
