Of course she did. The second I went back to the guys I snatched Casanova’s phone and read through her profile. She’s a young mechanic with a tendency to work long hours and eat breakfast foods for dinner because she’s too tired to cook.
“It’s a little rusty but it still runs.”
“Barely,” she mutters. “You’ve got wires in there that don’t connect to anything. It needs an oil change, new brakes, and shocks.”
A quiet laugh slips out before I can stop it. I was one sunny day off from hauling the rust bucket to the scrap yard.
“You gonna fix it up?”
“Can I?”
Breathless excitement makes her voice come out low and I thank my lucky stars that I still have the truck. Anything that can make her smile like that gets a pass from me. Hell, I’ll find her more junkers and clunkers to work on, if she just keeps looking at me like I’ve given her the moon rather than a reason to get a tetanus vaccination.
“It’s yours just like everything in this cabin,” I tell her, my hand coming up to the side of her neck, thumb brushing just under her jaw. “Do whatever you want with it. Scrap it, restore it, bury it in the backyard if you like.”
She lights up like a kid on Christmas.
“Fuck, Angel, the way you look at me keeps me rock hard all damn day,” I confess.
She blushes like a virgin and damn if that doesn’t make me feel old. I know there’s a decade between us, but I didn’t think the twenty-three year old mechanic would be completely inexperienced.
But she is, and that alone is enough to make me rein myself in. At least a little. That first night, I let her steal my bed while I sleep on the couch.
Morning comes early, and she’s already outside by the time I step onto the porch.
Bent over the engine with her curly brown hair pulled back in a messy ponytail, she looks right at home. Her movements are steady and focused, like nothing else exists while she’s got something in front of her that needs fixing.
I watch from the railing longer than I should.
She moves through my space like she belongs here and that knowledge settles under my skin fast and easy as it reinforces every gut instinct I have.
By midday, the truck I bought old ten years ago sounds better than it did brand new.
“Don’t get too excited,” she says, wiping her hands on a rag when I come up behind her. “It still needs work.”
“Nothing you can’t handle.”
Her eyes flick to mine. The tension simmering between us is quickly turning molten. I kept my distance last night and today, I’ve done a decent job of giving her space.
Sloane came here to marry me out of desperation. When I ask her properly, I don’t want any lingering fear or gratitude influencing her decision. So even though her soft brown eyes drift down to my lips, I don’t kiss her.
I wait until she drives to town to get another part for the truck before I take matters into my own hand.
Locking the front door, I yank my belt open, and free my cock. Long and heavy, it’s already leaking at the tip. I wrap my rough fist around the thick length and grip it hard, eyes closed as I picture her.
Those wide brown eyes when she feels how big I am. The way her damp tank top clung to her full tits and the soft dip of her waist when she visited me at the lumberyard. How her rounded hips will look spread wide on my kitchen table while I sink every inch of my cock into her tight, untouched pussy.
“Angel,” I growl, pumping faster, thumb smearing the slick precum over the head. “Gonna stretch that pretty pussy so good for me. Fill you up until you’re dripping and begging for more.”
My balls draw up tight at the thought of her moaning my name, and I come hard with a low groan, thick ropes spilling over my fist as I imagine breeding her right there on the table.
I stand there in the dim cabin, chest still heaving, seed cooling on my fist as I stare at the mess I made. Three tours overseas and three women who walked away because I couldn’t give them what they needed. They all said I was emotionally unavailable when I caught them.
My last girlfriend said I was a ghost even when I was standing right in front of her. Three for three, I had to admit I was the common denominator.
I swore I’d never put another woman through that again. Swore I’d stay single rather than half-ass another relationship.
Then Sloane showed up with grease on her cheek, fear in her eyes, and that quiet strength that hit me harder than any bullet ever could. One look and I knew I wasn’t walking away. She’s not getting scraps of me. She’s getting all of me, every damn day.
