"Do what?"
"This. Whatever this is." I gestured vaguely between us. "I'm usually working. I’m always buried in my screens, figuring there will be plenty of time to date later. I've just never met anyone who made me want to put my laptop down."
Torch's expression softened. "And now?"
"Now I'm sitting on a workbench in a garage in the mountains, drinking beer with a man I met four hours ago, and I can't stop thinking about—" I stopped myself, shook my head. "Never mind."
"Thinking about what?" His voice had dropped lower, rougher.
The air between us thickened. I could feel the heat coming off him even though he was still a few feet away. Could smell motor oil and soap and something woodsy and masculine.
"Things I've never really thought about before," I admitted quietly. "Not like this."
He studied me for a long moment, something dark and hungry flickering across his face. "You should probably stop looking at me like that."
"Like what?"
"Like you're trying to decide if I'm worth the risk."
My heart hammered against my ribs. "What if I am?"
"Then you should know something first." He took another step, close enough now that I had to tilt my head back to hold his gaze. "I've been thinking things about you since I pulled you off that mountain road. Things I shouldn't. And if you keep sittingon my workbench looking like that, I'm going to have a real hard time keeping them to myself."
Heat pooled low in my stomach. "Define 'naughty thoughts.'"
His jaw tightened. "Demi."
"I'm serious." The beer—or maybe the recklessness flooding my system—made me bold. "I want to know what you've been thinking."
"You sure about that?"
"Very sure."
He braced one hand on the workbench beside my hip, leaning in close enough that I could see the darker flecks in his brown eyes, the shadow of stubble along his jaw. "I've been thinking about what you'd taste like. Whether you'd make sounds if I kissed you the right way. How your skin would feel under my hands." His voice dropped even lower. "How you'd look in my bed."
My breath caught. Every nerve ending in my body lit up like the Christmas lights on that ridiculous food truck.
"Oh," I managed.
"Yeah. Oh." He pulled back slightly, giving me space even though it clearly cost him. "So unless you're ready to follow through on whatever this is, you should probably go back to the cabin."
"What if I don't want to go back to the cabin?"
"Then you need to tell me what you do want."
I set my beer down on the bench beside me, hands shaking slightly. This was insane. I didn't do spontaneous. I didn't do reckless. My life was spreadsheets and wireframes and five-year plans.
But something about this man—this mountain, this moment—made me want to be someone different. Someone braver.
"I want—" I swallowed hard. "I've never done this before. Not really."
His expression shifted. "Never done what?"
"This. Any of this." The words came out in a rush. "I've been so focused on my career, on proving myself, that I just…didn't make time. And now I'm twenty-three and I've never—" I couldn't finish the sentence.
Understanding dawned in his eyes. Followed immediately by something that looked like restraint. "You're telling me you're a virgin."
"I mean, technically, yes. But it's not like I'm saving myself for marriage or anything. It just never happened. And honestly?" I met his gaze. "I'm starting to think I've been missing out."
