I shook my head, chuckling. “Now, fuel enters the float chamber, and a buoy apparatus inside controls its level. From there, the mixture needle controls fuel going into the discharge nozzle. Air comes in through here—” I tilted the carb, pointing underneath— “and the venturi tube creates a low-pressure area in a second chamber above the air intake. The discharge nozzle I mentioned forces the fuel to that. The last thing that happens is the throttle valve controlling the precise output of air and gas.”
Lucy sighed, standing up and stretching. She walked over to the mantle where she’d left her bottle of water, taking a quick sip before turning around. “You lost me, Kane.”
“At what part?” I rocked back on my heels, ready to rewind and start over.
Again, she tried, and failed, to make her voice sound deeper. I found out seconds later that she was trying to imitate me. “Now, fuel enters the float chamber, and a buoy apparatus inside controls its level,” she repeated.
“Perfect recall,” I grinned, “I'm gonna make a mechanic of you yet.”
"How about I just be the cute assistant that confuses wrenches with screwdrivers?" she suggested playfully.
Need shot down to my dick, making it jump in anticipation. The idea of Lucy with grease under her nails, her skin glistening with sweat as she handed me tools, was enough to get me going. I made a mental note to order her a sexy pair of overalls. Also, maybe a set of steel toed boots for the next time we visited Otto’s.
I couldn't stop myself. I crawled on my knees over to where she stood, wrapping my arms around her legs and tugging her gently toward me. She grabbed my shoulders to steady herself, her pupils dilating as our eyes met. Her body heat radiated through the thin fabric of her jeans, and I fought the urge to press my face against her thighs. Instead, I skimmed my hands down the backs of her thighs, her knees, her calves, eventually wrapping my fingers around her ankles.
She looked down, I looked up, and electricity passed through the air between us.
The DemonX compound fell away, leaving just her mesmerizing forest eyes. Her scent changed, growing sweeter, headier. It was amazing how her emotions shifted the notes of her Omega perfume. My Alpha cologne responded in kind, growing thicker and spicier, weaving itself into the sugared air.
"At the very least," I said, my voice rough with desire I couldn’t mask, "I'll make sure you recognize which tool's the right one for screwing."
The moment the words left my mouth, I wanted to snatch them back.Too much, too soon?But then Lucy bit her lower lip,pink flooding into her alabaster cheeks. Waves of hot, insatiable need rolled off her body, unmistakable to my Alpha senses. I tensed, knowing I had to be careful. One wrong move now, and I’d take what hadn’t been explicitly offered.
I'd smelled her arousal before, of course. Living with five Alphas meant she was constantly surrounded by pheromones that would affect any Omega. But this was different. Her body came alive for me in this moment. Only for me.
The carburetor sat forgotten on the table, the lesson abandoned. All that mattered was Lucy's steady pulse beneath my fingers where they circled her ankles, and the way her breath caught when my thumbs traced small circles on her skin.
I cleared my throat first. I broke the spell before it broke me.
“Carb’s not gonna fix itself,” I breathed out, the words wanting to stick in my throat, so I didn’t speak them aloud.
“You sure?” she asked pointedly.
“Yes, unfortunately.”
It took all my willpower to let go of Lucy.
Maybe it was my imagination, but the look on her face seemed to say that she’d be okay with me holding on forever.
Hours later,the carburetor lay in scattered pieces, no closer to being rebuilt than when we'd started. In fact, it was further away from functional than ever.
Lucy was slumped against the coffee table, one arm bent so her hand could cradle her head. She was staring at the disassembled carburetor. The tank top she wore had slipped down one shoulder, exposing the delicate ridge of hercollarbone. But it was a smudge of grease on her porcelain cheek that nearly knocked me sideways. I couldn’t rip my gaze away from it.
I'd imagined this exact moment a hundred times. Lucy, at home among the tools and parts that were so integral to my life. Not sick, not fragile. More importantly, not scared of me and my brothers. Now, it was happening, and the reality of it hit me harder than any stunt crash ever had.
Almost without thinking, I reached over, my calloused thumb swiping down the dark mark on her cheek. Lucy stiffened for a heartbeat, then softened. She sat up and leaned into my touch, eyes widening as she watched me.
"I still don't know which tool's the one for screwing," she said, her voice dropping to a husky whisper that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
My eyes widened as her words registered. Brave little Omega, tempting me when I was tryingsohard to resist my Alpha urges. The guys were still at the Cirque. We had the compound to ourselves. This was dangerous.
"Long," I teased, letting my voice drop lower, watching her pupils dilate in response. "Got a handle. Comes in a variety of head shapes." My thumb traveled from her cheek, trailing down her chin and neck, skating across her exposed clavicle before I forced myself to pull away. My fingers tingled with heat from touching her.
"Sounds easy enough to recognize," she breathed out.
Once again, our unique scents clouded the air, weaving together. The combination was potent and triggering. It made me want to claim, to mark, to possess.
But she wasn't just mine. When we crossed that line—that beautiful fucking line—we’d do so as a pack.
