the thought made her heart crumple up into a little ball.
“Quitting time yet?”
She turned to see Chase standing in the doorway. This was a routine she could get used to. She wanted to cross the space between them and kiss him. And why not? She wasn’t hiding her attraction to him. They weren’t hiding their association.
She dropped her ratchet, wiped her hands on her coveralls and took two quick steps, flinging herself into his arms and kissing him on the lips. She wasn’t embarrassed until about midway through the kiss, when she realized she had been completely and totally enthusiastic and hadn’t hidden any of it. But he was holding on to her, and he was kissing her back, so maybe it didn’t matter. Maybe it was okay.
When they parted, he was smiling.
Her heart felt tender, exposed. But warm, like it was being bathed in sunlight. Something to do with that smile of his. With that easy acceptance of what she had offered. “I think it’s about time to quit,” she said.
“I like your look,” he said, gesturing to her white tank top, completely smeared with grease and dirt, and her coveralls, which were unbuttoned and tied around her waist.
“Really?”
“Last night you were my dirty country girl fantasy and today you’re a sexy mechanic fantasy. Do you take requests? Around Christmas you could go for Naughty Mrs. Claus.”
She rolled her eyes, grabbing the end of her tank top and knotting it up just under her breasts. “Maybe more like this? Though I think I’m missing the breast implants.”
His smile turned wicked. “Baby, you aren’t missing a damn thing.”
Her heart thundered harder, a rush of adrenaline flowing through her. “I didn’t think this was your type. Remember? You had to give me a makeover.”
“Yeah, that was stupid. I actually think I just needed to get knocked upside the head.”
“Did I...knock you upside the head?”
“Yeah.” He wrapped his arms around her bare waist, his fingertips playing over her skin. “You’re pretty perfect the way you are. You never needed a dress or high heels. I mean, you’re welcome to wear them if you want. I’m not going to complain about that outfit you wore last night. But all that stuff we talked about in the beginning, about you needing to change so that people would believe we were together... I guess everyone is just going to have to believe that I changed a little bit.”
“Have you changed?” she asked, brushing her thumb over his lower lip. A little thrill skittered down her spine. That she could touch him like this. Be so close to him. Share this kind of intimacy with a man she had had a certain level of emotional intimacy with for years and years.
It was wonderful. It also made her ache. Made her feel like her insides were being broken apart with a chisel. And she was willingly submitting to it. She didn’t know quite what was happening to her.
Are you sure you don’t?
“Something did,” he said, his dark eyes boring into hers.
“You know,” she said, trying to tamp down the fluttering that was happening in her chest, “I think it’s only fair that I give you a few lessons.”
“What kind of lessons?” he asked, his gaze sharpening.
“I’m not sure you know your way around an engine quite the way you should,” she said, smiling as she wiggled out of his hold.
“Oh, really?”
She nodded, grabbing hold of a rag and slinging it over her shoulder before picking up her ratchet again. “Really.”
“Is this euphemistic engine talk?”
“Do you think I’m expressing dissatisfaction with the way you work under my hood?”
He chuckled. “You’re really getting good at this flirting thing.”
“I am. That was good. And dirty.”
“I noticed.” He moved behind her, sweeping her hair to the side and kissing her neck. “But if you’re implying that I didn’t do a very good job...I would have to clear my good name.”
“I was talking about literal engines, Chase. But if you really want to try to up your game, I’m not going to stop you.”
“What’s that?” he asked, reaching past her and pointing to one of the parts that were spread out on the worktable in front of her.
“A cylinder head. I’m replacing that and the head gasket on the engine. And I had to take a lot of things apart to get to it.”
“When do you need to have it done?”
“Not until tomorrow.”
“So you don’t need me to play the part of lovely assistant while you finish up tonight?”
“I would like you to assist me with a few things,” she said, planting her hand at the center of his chest and pushing him lightly. The backs of his knees butted up against the chair that was behind him and he sat down, looking up at her, a predatory smile curving his lips.
“Is this going to be a part of my lesson?”
“Yeah,” she said, “I thought it might be.”
Last night had been incredible. Last night, he had given her something that felt special. Personal. Now she wanted to give him something. To show him what was happening inside of her, because she could hardly bring herself to think it. She wanted... She just wanted. In ways that she hadn’t allowed herself to want in a long time. More. Everything.
“What exactly are you going to teach me?”
“Well, I could teach you all the parts of the tractor engine. But we would be here all night. And it would just slow me down. Someday, we can trade. You can give me some welding secrets. Teach me how to pound steel.”
“That sounds dirty, too.”
“Lucky me,” she said, stretching her arms up over her head, her shirt riding up a little higher. She knew what she wanted to do. But she also felt almost petrified. This was...well, this was the opposite of protecting herself. This was putting herself out there. Risking humiliation. Risking doing something wrong while revealing how desperately she wanted to get it right.
But she wanted to give him something. And honestly, there was no bigger gift she could give him than vulnerability. To show him just how much she wanted him.
She swayed her hips to the right, then moved them back toward the left in a slow circle. She watched his face, watched the tension in his jaw increase, the sharpness in his eyes get positively lethal. And that was all the encouragement she needed. She’d seen enough movies with lap dances that she had a vague idea of how this should go. Maybe her idea was the PG-13-rated version, but she could improvise.
He moved his hand over the outline of his erection, squeezing himself through the denim as she continued to move. Maybe it wasn’t rhinestones and a miniskirt, but
