Chapter 3 #2
“Order’s up!” Our waitress returned carrying two plates piled with food. A cheeseburger and fries for me—yes, more fries—and a Reuben on rye with fries for T.
“This looks great. Thank you,” T said, tugging his plate closer.
“You boys need anything else?”
“We’re good,” Trent replied as I flipped the bun off the top of my burger and grabbed the thick slices of tomato.
T lifted the bread on his sandwich, and I laid them on his beef and then uncapped the bottle of Heinz to pour a big puddle on his plate and then on mine.
I helped myself to his fries and ketchup, sighing appreciatively.
I reached for my soda, but Trent made a sound, freezing my arm midair. “You’re gonna get ketchup all over your sleeve,” he scolded, abandoning his plate to tug the leather jacket down so it wasn’t dragging in the food.
We ate in comfortable silence for a few after that. The burger oozed the perfect amount of grease and the fries on T’s plate the perfect amount of salt.
After swiping my burger through the ketchup, I pointed to the near-empty spot. “You’re almost out.”
“You still have some,” he mused, motioning to the untouched mound on my plate.
“It’s not the same.”
He shook his head but added more to his plate.
“You think the kids are okay?” I asked.
T pulled out his phone and brought up the app we had to track their whereabouts. “They’re at Sweetstone,” he said, turning the device around to show me the map. “Andi is probably covered in chocolate.”
I pulled out my cell and brought up the tab I still had open from earlier and set it beside his plate. Trent leaned forward to gaze at the screen and then picked up the phone to look closer.
When he looked up, his eyes glimmered with amusement. “How long have you had this picked out?”
“I saw the listing a couple weeks ago. Didn’t think too much of it, but then today when you suggested getting Trav a car that needed work, it came to mind.”
Trent scrolled through the listing, squinting a bit to read it.
“You need glasses.”
“I do not.”
“Do too,” I sang.
“These words in this listing are just small,” he argued.
“I think you in a pair of glasses would be sexy as hell.”
His hazel eyes fired up. “You think?”
“Mmhmm.” I agreed. “Just thinking about it makes me hard.”
Trent’s stare dropped to my lap, then back up. “Maybe glasses wouldn’t be so bad.”
Smirking, I stole the last few fries off his plate, then washed them down with the perfectly carbonated soda.
“It’s a Mach 1 like mine, but the ‘70 has a different styling and trim,” I said, bringing the conversation back to the car. “This one has two headlights instead of four and a cleaner front design. The fender lights are replaced with air scoops.”
“They’re missing,” Trent noted.
I nodded. “Yeah, we’ll have to fix that. The side markers are more rectangular on this one versus mine.”
Still thumbing through the listing, Trent said, “It needs a new engine, tires, probably lights. Needs a sway bar kit and coilover suspension for better cornering. It doesn’t say, but I’m guessing it will need a new fuel injection too for better drivability.”
“I love it when you talk dirty to me.”
Trent laughed. “Trav would definitely love the black. Personally, I think some red trim would be sick, but that would be up to him.”
Adrenaline was already pumping through my veins. Just the idea of getting this car into our garage and being under the hood with our son was pumping me up. “You like it?”
“Baby, you could show me a tricycle with two missing wheels, and I would agree just for the look on your face alone.”
“Frat boy,” I whined, half amused and half frustrated. “I want your honest opinion.”
“I think we should go look at it. I also think the seller is on crack if he thinks he’s getting what he’s listed it for. Not with all the upgrades it’s gonna need.”
God, he was fucking hot. He was also really good with numbers and negotiations.
Like really good.
“I totally understand why Romeo got so hot over a nerd. You really need to get those glasses.”
His crooked front tooth flashed, and I thought about climbing into his lap right there. I was saved from embarrassing myself when he continued talking.
“This is gonna be six months of work, easy. Probably closer to eight.”
I nodded. “Probably.”
His knowing eyes met mine. “That would give you plenty of time to get used to Trav with his own car.”
“Would give both of us time to spend with him while we help him build it.”
“Call and set it up,” T said, setting aside the phone.
“You know if we buy him this car, it will only be a matter of time before he starts racing,” I warned.
Leaning in, T hooked his palm around the back of my neck. The touch was grounding and reassuring, as was the tilt of his head to meet my eyes. “You okay with that?”
He was the picture of patience as I thought it over and nodded.
T gave my neck a squeeze before pulling back. “Good thing I have a lot of practice loving an adrenaline junkie.”
The loss of his touch accompanied by his words made me feel like an engine about to sputter out. “T…” My voice was gruff, slightly pained.
He came back immediately, the heavy weight of his hand pure relief. I slumped a little, breath puffing out. “Better?” he asked low.
I nodded.
“What is it, Drew?”
I wrinkled my nose.
“Baby.” He modified.
Better.
“I think I want to retire.” The words whooshed out of me like a blown tire. Fast, forceful, and shocking.
His fingertips jerked against my neck before tightening with his intake of breath. “What?”
Body twisting toward him, I lifted my leg so my bent knee was resting on his, my upper body swaying closer. His hand wedged between my bent knee and tugged me closer while he rotated his upper half to face mine.
The hand not against my neck dove inside my jacket to grip my waist.
“I’ve been thinking about it for a while now, T. I think it’s time.”
“I knew there was something,” he murmured almost to himself.
“What?”
“I knew there was something more than Travis pushing for a car and nearing graduation. I knew,” he swore softly. “I didn’t want to push. Should I have pushed?”
“Nah. I had to get to this particular finish line on my own.”
His hand moved, cupping the side of my head instead of my neck. His eyes never settled, the hazel flickering between gold, green, and a stormy color in between. I realized then why, over the years, I’d stopped loving summer in favor of fall… because autumn was right there in his eyes.
“You’re never on your own.” The quiet vehemence in his words soothed the frayed edges of my nerves.
The corner of my mouth tilted up. “I know.”
“If you’re ready to talk, I’m ready to listen.”
I was. But not here. “Wanna go parking?”
Molten honey flashed in his gaze. “Hells yes, I do.”
I tapped his thigh, and we made a mad dash for the door, with T stopping long enough to put a pile of cash on the counter. “Keep the change!” he called.
Outside, I tossed him the keys, and he caught them, surprise flashing on his face. “You don’t want to drive?”
“Will you?”
He nodded, unable to hide the worry on his face.
Closing the space between us, I grabbed his shirt, tugging at the hem. “I’m fine, frat boy. I just plan to be too busy to drive.”
Lust made his lashes droop, but then he recovered. “I thought you wanted to talk.”
“I do. But I need a little encouragement first.”
“Get in the car,” he growled, pushing me toward the Mustang.
We weren’t even out of the parking lot before I was leaning over the console and reaching for the button on his jeans. He cursed low, and a smug, possessive feeling tightened my chest.
The faint sound of the fly sliding down made me anxious, and I quickly pushed under his boxers to wrap my hand around his aroused dick.
He took a turn a little too sharp, and my body fell farther into his lap, so I dipped my head for a mouthful of man and cotton all at once.
Trent’s body sang, thighs flexing under me as I shoved the clothing away to get my lips fully around him. The thick weight was just what I needed, and I swallowed around him while flattening my tongue along the underside of his shaft.
Fingertips brushed my hair, and he whispered my name. Eyes sliding closed, I listened to the rumble of the engine and breathed deep the concentrated scent of my husband while nuzzling my nose in his coarse hair.
His dick spasmed, growing even thicker and stretching my lips. I slicked him up, sliding up and down his shaft before giving in to temptation and sinking to hold him inside me. A sound of satisfaction rumbled my throat, and T scratched against my scalp.
“There you go, baby,” he murmured. “Just relax.”
My body ached from being stretched across the console, torso twisted at an odd angle so I could stuff my face into his lap. I didn’t care about any of it. All I cared about was having Trent inside me, tasting him with every swallow.
Trent was the master of a blow job. Getting head from him was second to none.
But there was also something about holding him in my mouth.
The constant warm pressure against my tongue and the way he pulsed every so often was reassuring.
It was a quiet, close connection that helped soothe a lot of the anxiety I had from PTSD after my accident and then again when I returned to driving.
We didn’t do this as often as we used to, but sometimes when there was something big on my mind, this helped quiet the world so I could think.
Plus, it was a hell of a lot cheaper than therapy.
Years ago, I never would have allowed myself to ask for this. Hell, I probably wouldn’t even have given myself a chance to realize this was something I loved. But intimacy took on a whole new level for us after I almost died. I would never be anywhere safer than with Trent.
His arm moved when he downshifted, brushing against my leather jacket. Instead of pulling back, he draped it over me, and I sighed into his skin.