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I stare at him. “I don’t know the first thing about cars.” Heck, I had no idea Sparkie was on her last legs.
“I’m serious,” he says. “The shop’s outgrown me. I’m barely keeping up with payroll and invoicing, and don’t even get me started on the tax returns. I want you to be my partner.”
It sounds like heaven. “You’d trust me with your baby?”
He leans in and kisses my jaw, soft as a prayer. “I’d trust you with my goddamn life. And now, it’s our baby. You can start tomorrow.” Happiness flows through my soul. “Then I can see you all goddamn day instead of watching the clock, wondering when I’ll be able to get home to you.”
“I love you,” I blurt out before I’m able to stop myself.
His hands slide around my waist like he’s claiming territory he’s been eyeing for weeks, pulling me into him with a grip that’s fucking possessive. His chest presses against mine, hard and unyielding, and I can feel the heat of him through my shirt like he’s already burning me alive. He leans down, his breath hot on my lips, and I’m drowning in the scent of him—cologne, beer, and something raw, something male.
Then his mouth crashes into mine, and holy moly, this isn’t just a kiss. It’s an invasion. His tongue slips past my lips like he’s staking a claim, and I melt into him. My hands claw at his back, desperate to pull him closer, to feel every inch of him. His tongue is relentless, twisting with mine in a rhythm that’s dirty and demanding, like he’s trying to fuck me with just his mouth.
I moan into him, and he growls back, the sound vibrating deep in his chest and straight down to my core. His hands are everywhere. One tangles in my hair, tugging just hard enough to make me whimper, while the other slides down to grip my ass. He squeezes hard, pulling me into him, and I can feel the thick, hard outline of his cock pressing against my thigh, begging for attention.
He breaks the kiss just long enough to trail his lips down my neck, sucking and biting like he’s trying to leave marks, like he wants everyone to know who I belong to. His teeth scrape my skin, and I pant his name as my knees go weak. My body throbs with every touch. “God,” I gasp, and he smirks against my skin, his breath hot and teasing.
“I love you, too,” he growls, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver down my spine. His hand slides under my shirt, calloused fingers skimming my ribs, and I arch into him, desperate for more. He’s not gentle, and I don’t want him to be. I want him to wreck me, to devour me whole.
He pulls back just enough to look at me, his eyes dark and hungry, and I feel like prey caught in his crosshairs. “I fell in love with you the second you introduced me to your car,” he says, his voice dripping with heat, and I laugh, but it’s breathless, shaky, because he’s already kissing me again, deeper, harder, like he’s trying to drain every thought from my head until all I can think about is him.
And fuck, it’s working.
When we go inside, he bends me over the kitchen island and makes good on every promise.
I fall asleep that night with his hand on my hip and the feeling that maybe, just maybe, the other shoe isn’t ever going to drop.
Not if I don’t let it.