"Exactly." His lips brush my ear as he speaks, sending shivers down my spine. "You're a natural."
"I have a good teacher." I turn my head slightly, our faces close enough that I can count his eyelashes. "Very hands-on instructional methods."
His eyes darken, pupils expanding until only a thin ring of brown remains. "Complaints?"
"Not a single one," I whisper, and then his mouth is on mine, hot and demanding.
I spin in his arms, wrench forgotten as my fingers tangle in his hair. He tastes like coffee and mint, and I can't get enough. His hands slide down to grip my hips, lifting me effortlessly onto the workbench. I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him closer, gasping as he presses against me exactly where I need him.
"Sandra," he groans against my mouth, one hand sliding up to cup my breast through my shirt. "You drive me fucking crazy."
"Good." I arch into his touch, desperate for more. "The feeling is entirely mutual."
His thumb brushes over my nipple, and even through the fabric of my bra and shirt, the sensation makes me moan. He swallows the sound with another deep kiss, his tongue stroking against mine in a rhythm that promises so much more.
The sound of a throat clearing breaks us apart. Marcus stands in the doorway, looking simultaneously amused and embarrassed.
"Sorry to interrupt, boss, but the parts for the Harrison job just arrived. Need your signature."
Diesel curses under his breath, resting his forehead against mine for a moment before stepping back. "Be right there."
Once Marcus retreats, Diesel runs a hand through his hair, which is already mussed from my fingers. "Sorry about that."
"Don't be." I hop down from the workbench, smoothing my shirt. "Probably for the best before things got too heated."
His eyes rake over me, hot and possessive. "Tonight. Dinner at my place. No interruptions."
It's not a question, but I nod anyway, pulse quickening. "What time?"
"Seven. I'll pick you up at the lodge." He steps forward again, stealing one more quick kiss before heading out to deal with the delivery.
I press my fingers to my lips, still tingling from his kiss. This thing between us has been escalating steadily over the past week—stolen kisses in the garage, heated make-out sessions after dinner, increasingly explicit text messages late at night. We haven't slept together yet, but it feels inevitable. Imminent.
And God, I want it. Want him. With an intensity that should probably scare me.
I gather my things and head out, waving goodbye to Marcus who gives me a knowing wink. The walk to The Mountain Lodge is brisk in the December air, Christmas decorations glittering on every storefront. Crimson Hollow really does the holidays right—garlands and twinkling lights transform the already charming town into something magical.
"Sandra!" Sage calls from across the street, waving from the doorway of Bean & Bloom. "Got a minute?"
I cross over, smiling. Over the past week, Sage has become a friendly face, always ready with coffee and conversation. "Hey, what's up?"
"Just wondering if you're coming to the tree lighting ceremony tomorrow night," she says, ushering me inside the warm café. "Whole town will be there. Seems like something you shouldn't miss if you're thinking of sticking around."
"I hadn't thought about it," I admit. "But sure, sounds fun. Is Diesel going?"
Sage's lips twitch. "Diesel doesn't do public festivities. But maybe you could change his mind. If not my boyfriend and I will, for sure, keep your company." She gives me a pointed look. "Town's talking, you know. Diesel Torres, actually smiling. Walking hand in hand with a beautiful woman. It's unprecedented."
Heat rises in my cheeks. "We're just... enjoying each other's company."
"Mmm-hmm." Sage clearly isn't buying it. "Well, whatever you're doing, keep it up. I haven't seen him this happy since... actually, I've never seen him this happy."
Her words settle something warm in my chest. "Really?"
"Really." She squeezes my arm. "You're good for him."
The idea that I might be having a positive impact on Diesel's life is surprisingly powerful. We've only known each other a short time, but I already care about him far more than makes sense. It's not just physical attraction—though God knows that's overwhelming enough. It's the way he listens when I talk, really listens. The quiet confidence with which he moves through the world. The glimpses of vulnerability I've caught beneath his gruff exterior.
"He's good for me too," I say softly. "Makes me feel... I don't know. Seen, I guess."
