Her tongue darts out to lick a crumb from her thumb, and I almost die, remembering how she wrapped those lips around my cock last night.
“So, about last night,” she says, as if reading my mind.
I tense. “Yeah.”
“It was… really special for me,” she continues fearlessly. “And I don’t regret anything.”
I swallow hard. “Neither do I.”
Her smile lifts, bright and immediate and unfair.
Then—because my fear is always one second faster than my hope—I say something I instantly regret.
“But I don’t want you to think…” I shift, wishing I could pull the words back into my mouth. “I don’t want you to think this… changes anything with the car.”
Her smile wavers. “Oh.”
“I mean, of course it changes things,” I rush to clarify. “But I don’t want you to feel like I only said yes because?—”
She sits straighter, her protective walls rising. “Because I threw myself at you?”
“You didn’t—” I wince. “That’s not?—”
She laughs once. Sharp. Hurt. “Well. At least you’re honest.”
“No,” I insist. “You don’t understand. I’m staying professional. For you.”
Her eyes are too bright now. “Right. Because what happened was unprofessional.”
“That’s not what I meant.” I bite the inside of my cheek. Why am I better at communicating with carburetors than humans?
She stands. “It’s fine, Nolan. Really. We’re fine.”
“Sally—”
But she’s already walking to the driver’s side of the Mustang, fussing with her camera like she can redirect all the fragile pieces inside her into angles and lighting.
I follow too quickly, heart banging on its cage. “I didn’t say I don’t want you.”
“Well, you’re sure acting like it,” she mutters.
“I want you too much,” I snap. “And that’s the problem.”
She turns slowly, eyes narrowing. “Theproblem?”
“I don’t want this to be temporary,” I say, the truth scraping out raw. “I don’t want you to leave once the car’s done and make me feel like I was just part of the project.”
She stops breathing.
“Oh,” she says. Just that. Quiet. Small. Wrecked.
I step closer. “I’m scared I’ll want you long after this project is done.”
Her eyes soften, confusion melting into something deeper. “Why would you think I’d just… leave?”
I laugh harshly. “Because that’s what people do when they realize I’m good for a job, not for a life.”
She frowns. “Nolan?—”
