Classic rock blasted through a speaker sitting on a wooden, scarred bench, and she could see Scars hunched over the hood of her car. He wore a dark T-shirt that looked like it had seen better days. His jeans were worn, a few holes at the knees, grease stains covering them. Her body warmed, softened at the sight, at the images that flashed through her mind.
She was embarrassingly aroused, feeling that need, the lust and desire claiming her higher and harder the longer she was with him. The way he watched her, tracked her with his eyes whenever she was near, made her blood feel like it was on fire.
He hadn’t noticed her presence yet, and she took that moment to appraise his very male, very hard and powerful body more. His boots were thick and black. They screamed “biker boots,” and she could imagine him on his Harley riding down the road, not a care in the world, everyone noticing him and staying away because he screamed danger.
The wind picked up and goose bumps popped out along her arms. She shivered, knowing it wasn’t just the chill in the air, but how he made her feel.
Hannah couldn’t lie, not even to herself, and say she didn’t think about him constantly, that she didn’t picture what it would be like to have him in every way imaginable, to touch him, to feel him touch her, moving over her… inside her.
She became wet, embarrassingly so, her panties soaked, the fire consuming her from the inside out.
After long moments, probably too long of her just standing there with this glass of water in her hand, Scars glanced up. Maybe he sensed her, but either way, when their eyes locked, she actually felt the air leave her violently.
The music couldn’t even drown out the sound of her rapidly beating heart, and as she awkwardly held out the glass, watched as his eyes flicked down to it before immediately looking back at her face, her cheeks heated in awareness.
He moved close to her, reached out to take the glass, and a shiver raced up her arm when their fingers brushed together. While watching her the entire time, Scars brought the glass to his mouth and downed all of it, never once taking his focus from Hannah. When he was finished, she found herself reaching for the glass, their fingers brushing again. God, that moment when he watched her while he drank seemed so erotic.
“Thanks,” he said in that sexy, deep voice that had her entire body clenching tightly, her muscles aching, and the air leaving her.
He walked over to the stereo, lowered the volume, then faced her again, grabbing a rag from the counter without breaking eye contact. He started cleaning off his hands, and they stood there in silence, the air suddenly thick as it surrounded her. She stared at his hands as he cleaned the grease from them, his palms big and wide, his fingers long and calloused. She imagined him touching her with those masculine hands, the roughness of them along her smooth skin, the way she’d gasp and beg for more.
After clearing her throat, because this moment seemed very… intimate for some reason, she started running her fingers over the now empty glass. Condensation formed on the outside, and she traced her fingers over the droplets.
The front end of her car where the impact happened was still beat to hell, but she knew nothing about cars, so maybe it was just superficial?
“How's it going?” She pointed to the car as if he wouldn't know what she was talking about, and could feel her face heat even more.
God, could I make this even more weird?
The sound of him moving closer had Hannah looking at him. Her eyes widened when she realized he was close, so close she smelled the combination of cedar, motor oil, clean sweat, and something that was wholly unique to Scars.
She grew wetter, her body pliant, as if it knew what it wanted and that was standing right in front of her in all its male glory.
Hannah tried not to take notice of the wide expanse of chest right in front of her, or how his shirt stretched across his powerful body, how she could make out his muscles. Seeing him dirty like this, grease and oil smeared on his shirt and arms, on his hands and even a little bit on his cheek, made her feel hot and bothered and tingly all over.
The longer they stared at each other, neither speaking nor moving, it made Hannah very aware of the changes happening with him. They were subtle but noticeable. His eyes darkened. His chest moved faster the harder he breathed. He looked down at her lips then at the hollow of her throat before trailing those gorgeous eyes back to hers.