My erection sprang free, and before I could process her intent, she leaned forward and took me into her mouth.
I groaned—a raw, animal sound, my hands flying to the hood to steady myself as my knees threatened to buckle. Her mouth was wet heat, and she took me deep, her tongue working a devastating rhythm, one hand cupping the aching weight of my balls. The sensation was blinding, a white-hot wire of pleasure connecting directly to my spine.
It had been so long, and it was her. This brave, brilliant, infuriatingly beautiful woman who had crashed into my world only hours ago.
“Demi, stop,” I managed, my voice strangled. I gently pushed her back, my thumb stroking her jaw. “I need to go inside. I need a condom.”
She looked up at me, her lips swollen and slick from me, her gaze unwavering. “I’m on birth control.”
The words should have been a relief. Instead, a strange, sharp disappointment sliced through me. No baby tonight. The thought was insane, primal, but undeniable.
I shook my head, clearing it of the madness. Someday, we'd make a baby. Just not tonight.
I positioned myself at her entrance. She was so ready for me, so impossibly wet and hot. I pushed in slowly, carefully, watching her face for any sign of pain. She gasped, her eyes widening with shock and wonder, but she didn't flinch.
Then she wrapped her legs around my hips, her heels digging into the small of my back, pulling me deeper until I was fully seated inside her. She felt like heaven. Like a home I never knew I had been searching for—a perfect, tight heat that threatened to shatter my control in an instant.
One hand stayed braced behind her on the hood while the other traveled over her own body. It was the most erotic thing I’d ever witnessed. She teased a pebbled nipple, pinching it lightly, a soft moan escaping her lips. Then her hand slid down over the rounded curve of her stomach to where we were joined. She found her clit, her touch sure and practiced, and began to circle it, her eyes locked on mine, daring me to watch.
The sight of her pleasuring herself while I was buried inside her nearly undid me. My control, already frayed to a single, thin thread, began to shred.
Her breathing hitched and her back arched, lifting her breasts. She came again with a soft, broken cry. Her inner muscles fluttered and clenched around me in a rhythmic, milking pulse.
And that was my absolute undoing. With a guttural groan, I let go, pumping my seed into her, my own release a tidal wave of blinding white pleasure that left me spent and trembling.
For a long moment, the only sound was our ragged breathing in the quiet garage. The tinny radio now played a love song, and for the first time, I understood every word.
I leaned over her, bracing my trembling hands on the cool hood, and lowered my head to hers. Our lips met in the first soft kiss of the night. It was tender. A silent vow. A stark contrast to what had just happened between us.
When I pulled back, she giggled, a soft, breathy sound that did something strange and warm to my chest. “That has to be rare,” she said. “A first kiss after sex.”
I smiled as I brushed a strand of hair from her damp forehead. The certainty that had been building in me since I rescued her with that old, broken-down food truck was as real as the woman in my arms. I had to find a way to keep her here. She was a storm I never wanted to end.
But first, I had to fix her damn truck.
5
DEMI
“Okay, start it up.”
I grinned and turned the key. My little economy car at home had a push button, but this food truck? Old school. The kind of vehicle that probably remembered dial-up internet.
The engine turned over once. Twice. Then it gave a sad little wheeze and died.
My smile dropped. I tried again, pumping the gas pedal like I could bribe it to cooperate. The engine coughed in protest and went silent.
“No, no, no. Come on!” I twisted the key harder because clearly physics responds to desperation.
Nothing.
Torch appeared at my window, his expression carefully neutral—the look of someone with bad news. “Try it one more time.”
I did. Same result. My heart plummeted straight through the floorboard.
Last night, this truck had purred like a kitten. We’d driven it down the mountain, laughing at how ridiculous we lookedin the over-decorated Christmas-mobile. I’d felt unstoppable, still buzzing from our marathon of garage, bed, and shower adventures.
But now? The sun was up, reality had arrived, and I had ninety minutes to get to the festival with enough cinnamon rolls to feed half of Wildwood Valley.
