Work Me Up

I trail him through the garage, deeper into it than I’ve ever gone before, picking our way through a veritable minefield of car parts and tools, strewn every which way.

“You really don’t tidy after yourself, or between projects, do you?” I ask as we walk.

Antonio chuckles. “Not a lot of spare time for that. Normally I’m on pretty tight repair schedules in here. Advantages and disadvantages to having a really booming small business.”

I glance over my shoulder at the garage. At all the other cars in here, up on blocks. Cars that I know he’s been neglecting, for the most part, in order to teach me how to redo his own car, painstakingly slowly. I bite my lower lip, feeling a twinge of guilt. “Have you ever thought about hiring some help around here?”

He shrugs. “Had a couple of other guys who’ve worked for me over the years. Most of them turn out to make one too many stupid mistakes, and I have to let them go. The decent ones always seemed to end up moving out of town or opening their own garages instead.” He heaves a sigh. “Hard to find people who are willing to get their hands dirty when it comes to work anymore. Used to be this was an honest job, good money. It still is, but nobody sees it as prestigious anymore. People want white collar jobs, to be paper pushers locked inside an office all day long and barely ever see sunlight.”

“Because you see so much sun in here,” I can’t help joking, glancing back over my shoulder at the darkened garage.

He smirks. “Point taken. I get out of the garage from time to time, though. I’ve got blocks outside I can work on when it’s a real nice day, too.”

“But you don’t,” I reply, studying him.

His shoulders sag a little. “I guess not, no.” He eyes me then, considering. “Thanks for the pointer. I’ll try to get more fresh air.” Then he reaches over with his free hand, his other still wrapped tight around mine, and brushes a finger down the curve of my cheek.

The move sends shivers all the way from the top of my spine to my toes.

“Especially if it means rescuing princesses in distress from paint inhalation.”

“For the millionth time,” I snap.

“I know, I know.” He chuckles. “Not a princess. Got it, Princess.” Then he pushes open a door I’d never noticed before, a small one at the very back of the garage, near the little off-shoot bathroom where we… well. My cheeks flare red.

Where we showered together last time. And where he pinned me against the wall of the shower to finger me until I was crying his name out all over again.

He shoulders open the door, and I blink at the sudden brightness.

He really does have an outdoor area, I realize. We step out behind the garage and onto a plot of land that overlooks a rolling hillside. It slopes away from the garage, on and on for miles, until it reaches what appears to be a vineyard next door, though the little farmhouse attached to the vineyard is so far away it’s really little more than a brown dot on the horizon.

I knew his garage was a bit far outside the city limits. But from the front, it just looks like a tiny little roadside stop next to a main highway. I had no idea this was out back here, just waiting to be tripped over.

My lips part with surprise.

Antonio steps closer to me, and his hand gently unwinds from mine. I almost protest, but then his hand trails up my arm, from my wrist to my elbow, up to my shoulder. He steps up beside me, and folds me against him in a side hug, my body curving against his strong, solid frame.

“It’s beautiful,” I murmur.

“I know,” he says. But when I tilt my chin back to look up at him, to see him admiring his own view, he’s not looking at the field. He’s gazing down at me, and there’s something deeper than lust in his eyes now. Something soft and heart-achingly sweet.

He bends toward me so damn slowly. He’s giving me plenty of time to stop him, to push him away. To change my mind if I don’t want to do this after all. But I do, oh, I fucking do, and I find myself frozen, all thoughts of my father and how he’ll kill me if he ever finds out about this fleeing my brain in the span of a split second.

Antonio’s lips find mine. It’s not like yesterday, all white hot fire and lust. That’s there too, but this kiss is so slow. So soft. We sink together, like we’re tasting one another for the first time. I turn toward him and he mirrors me, his hands sliding up my arms until they reach my chin, and he cups my face between them, his palms so hot against my skin I ache.