“So let’s go inside and get them there. I have a nice, wide counter we could put to excellent use.”
God, she was tempted. “We were in the middle of a fight.”
“Were we? Maybe that’s why I’m so goddamn horny. Or it could be this skirt, wrapped so tightly around your ass that my balls haven’t stopped throbbing since you stepped into my shop.” He stroked his finger along the edge of her thong through her skirt, and she had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from whimpering. “You’re wet. You know you are. This isn’t only me feeling this.”
“No,” she whispered shakily, afraid if she didn’t admit the truth he’d find out for himself. Right there, where anyone could drive by and see.
And damn it all, his crude language and unabashed touch did make her hot. Apparently he wanted her so much he didn’t care who watched. No one else existed for them.
It didn’t even matter if he’d used that same counter line with another woman, or whispered the same hot, dirty words. Though she was the older one, he could show her new things, and she’d explore them eagerly. Gratefully.
“That fucker kept looking at your legs, and all I kept thinking about was having them around my neck again. Watching you splinter apart around me while I bury my cock so deep in you that you can’t take it.” He closed his hand around her breast, squeezing and releasing until her head dropped back against his shoulder. “But you do. You beg for it, even knowing it’s too much.”
She shut her eyes against the bright flare of the moon in the sky. Everything felt too sharp and dazzling, the needs inside her too huge to ignore. “Do you know how long it’s been since a man’s made me feel this way?”
His swift inhale told her everything she wanted to know. He didn’t have a problem being honest about his feelings. Unlike her. “As long as you don’t say forty-five minutes ago when Winters left, I think I can handle the answer.”
Laughing, she turned in his arms and smeared her thumb over a dab of oil on his cheek. His jaw was darker with stubble, and she hadn’t even noticed because she’d been so determined not to pay attention to him. Yet another stupid move from someone who pretended she was so smart.
“I’ve never felt like this.” She lowered her gaze when his demanding stare grew too heady. “I don’t know if it’s because you’re supposed to be forbidden, or if I’m at a sexual peak before the thing shrivels up entirely, but God, I can’t get enough of you.”
His low laughter surprised her almost as much as it aroused. “Know what your problem is? You keep thinking about numbers and letters after names instead of what matters in here.” He placed his hand between her breasts and her heart quickened. “Stop thinking so damn much.”
Her face flamed. Did he really think she was that shallow? Was she that shallow? “I don’t care about any of that.”
He chuckled. “Right.”
“No, I don’t. But other people will think I’m some kind of predator—”
“Aren’t you?” He waggled his brows. “Didn’t you want to maul me naked the moment you walked in my shop and saw me massacring the Beatles?”
She fought not to smile and lost. “I suppose.”
“Huh. For a first attempt at honesty, I’ll take it.”
“Hey, I’ve always been honest. Mostly.” She let out a whoop as he swept her up into his arms. “What are you doing?”
He gave her a cheeky grin. “Following my instincts. Gotta prevent that shriveling malady as long as we can.”
Chapter Seven
Brad carried Sara into his shop, intent on depositing her on the counter and indulging every prurient urge he’d ever felt in her direction. On the way across the concrete, his gaze darted from the grimy fingerprints on the phone to the messy pile of customer invoices to the ragged pair of work gloves hanging from a hook on the wall.
Then he looked at Sara, draped like a present in his arms. Long, silky brown hair clinging to glossy lips, eyes bright with excitement. Prim and proper blouse, skirt, and heels wreaking hell on his already full-throttle sex drive.
“Is this part of your usual routine when a woman’s car needs service, or do I warrant VIP treatment?” Though her tone was teasing, he didn’t laugh.
That’s what she thought he was all about. Quick fucks in car bays and hit-and-run emotions that didn’t last long enough for him to get serious. And if she believed that was all he felt for her, he’d have to prove her wrong. His dick might drive the bus more often than not, but at least his addled brain caught up eventually.
And this was not happening.
She curled her fingers in the hair on the nape of his neck. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” He set her down and straightened her blouse, tucking it back into the hem of her skirt.
Her frown reached her eyes. “You’re supposed to be pulling that out, not putting it back in.”
“You know that kind of talk always gets me hot, Doctor.”