Chapter - Carter
Carter
Her tires churn against the mud, the sound of loose gravel shifting under the weight of her car as she drives away. I’d love to be following behind her in my truck, rather than finishing my shift, but she needs to rest.
Those dark circles under her eyes haunt me.
I stand in the lumberyard long after her taillights disappear around the bend, my cock already thick and throbbing against my zipper. One kiss from that curvy mechanic with grease on her cheek and I’m wound tighter than I’ve ever been.
Instead of heading back to the crew, I turn away and reach for my phone, already dialing as I walk towards the lumber stacks. I surround myself with cedar, pine, and maple as I focus on the task at hand.
Fate and Casanova’s meddling have brought Sloane to me, but we have a rocky road ahead of us. I’ve got a woman that’s running from danger and the only way we can move forward in our relationship is if I can eliminate the threat.
Sheriff Larson answers on the second ring, voice alert in a way that tells me he’s not lounging behind a desk.
“I need a favor,” I say.
A pause stretches between us, just long enough for him to hear the tone I’m not trying to hide.
“What do you need?” he asks because that’s the kind of man he is. Honest and dependable, he’d offer a stranger the shirt off his back. If he can help, he will. Whether he’s on the clock or not.
“This stays off the record,” I add. “I’ve got a woman at my place and she’s in deep shit.”
Another beat passes.
“That serious?”
“We’re talking bikers with dirty cops in their pockets.”
Leaning against a stack of oak, I scan the road out of habit, looking for movement that isn’t there.
“You vouch for her?”
Her face flashes through my head without warning. The way she handed over her phone without arguing. The way she looked at me like I was the only thing standing between her and danger.
“Yes.”
That’s all he needs to hear. The call ends, and I move on to the next one without hesitating.
Walker picks up with a grunt, “Aren’t you supposed to be working?”
“Need eyes on my place,” I tell him, not in any mood for his bullshit. “I’ve got a woman who needs protection.”
A shift happens on his end, subtle but immediate.
“How bad?”
“Bad enough I’m calling you.”
He exhales and I can hear the creak of wood as he gets moving.
“On my way.”
“Take the trail head. Don’t make let anyone see you, not even her.”
“You finally bring someone home and of course she brings nothing but trouble.”
“Walker.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll handle it.”
The line goes dead.
Vance answers next, then another number I haven’t used in months. None of them ask for details. None of them need them. By the time I’m done, there are enough people on watch that anyone coming up that mountain looking for trouble is going to regret it.
Sloane doesn’t need to know any of that. All she needs to know is that she’s safe.
The rest of my shift is pure torture. Hours later when I finally step into my cabin, her faint citrus scent still lingers in the air and hits me like a drug. I can still taste her, sweet, hesitant, and hungry.
Then I see her.
Standing in my kitchen, hands braced on the counter like she’s trying to ground herself. Relief hits harder than it should, especially since her car is in the driveway.
“You made it,” I say.
Her head lifts fast, eyes landing on mine like a startled rabbit.
“It’s a miracle I made it without my GPS,” she jokes before gesturing vaguely toward the door. “I didn’t want to just sit around, so I looked at the truck in your garage.”
Of course she did. The second I went back to the guys I snatched Casanova’s phone and read through her profile. She’s a young mechanic with a tendency to work long hours and eat breakfast foods for dinner because she’s too tired to cook.
“It’s a little rusty but it still runs.”
“Barely,” she mutters. “You’ve got wires in there that don’t connect to anything. It needs an oil change, new brakes, and shocks.”
A quiet laugh slips out before I can stop it. I was one sunny day off from hauling the rust bucket to the scrap yard.
“You gonna fix it up?”
“Can I?”
Breathless excitement makes her voice come out low and I thank my lucky stars that I still have the truck.
Anything that can make her smile like that gets a pass from me.
Hell, I’ll find her more junkers and clunkers to work on, if she just keeps looking at me like I’ve given her the moon rather than a reason to get a tetanus vaccination.
“It’s yours just like everything in this cabin,” I tell her, my hand coming up to the side of her neck, thumb brushing just under her jaw. “Do whatever you want with it. Scrap it, restore it, bury it in the backyard if you like.”
She lights up like a kid on Christmas.
“Fuck, Angel, the way you look at me keeps me rock hard all damn day,” I confess.
She blushes like a virgin and damn if that doesn’t make me feel old. I know there’s a decade between us, but I didn’t think the twenty-three year old mechanic would be completely inexperienced.
But she is, and that alone is enough to make me rein myself in. At least a little. That first night, I let her steal my bed while I sleep on the couch.
Morning comes early, and she’s already outside by the time I step onto the porch.
Bent over the engine with her curly brown hair pulled back in a messy ponytail, she looks right at home. Her movements are steady and focused, like nothing else exists while she’s got something in front of her that needs fixing.
I watch from the railing longer than I should.
She moves through my space like she belongs here and that knowledge settles under my skin fast and easy as it reinforces every gut instinct I have.
By midday, the truck I bought old ten years ago sounds better than it did brand new.
“Don’t get too excited,” she says, wiping her hands on a rag when I come up behind her. “It still needs work.”
“Nothing you can’t handle.”
Her eyes flick to mine. The tension simmering between us is quickly turning molten. I kept my distance last night and today, I’ve done a decent job of giving her space.
Sloane came here to marry me out of desperation. When I ask her properly, I don’t want any lingering fear or gratitude influencing her decision. So even though her soft brown eyes drift down to my lips, I don’t kiss her.
I wait until she drives to town to get another part for the truck before I take matters into my own hand.
Locking the front door, I yank my belt open, and free my cock. Long and heavy, it’s already leaking at the tip. I wrap my rough fist around the thick length and grip it hard, eyes closed as I picture her.
Those wide brown eyes when she feels how big I am. The way her damp tank top clung to her full tits and the soft dip of her waist when she visited me at the lumberyard. How her rounded hips will look spread wide on my kitchen table while I sink every inch of my cock into her tight, untouched pussy.
“Angel,” I growl, pumping faster, thumb smearing the slick precum over the head. “Gonna stretch that pretty pussy so good for me. Fill you up until you’re dripping and begging for more.”
My balls draw up tight at the thought of her moaning my name, and I come hard with a low groan, thick ropes spilling over my fist as I imagine breeding her right there on the table.
I stand there in the dim cabin, chest still heaving, seed cooling on my fist as I stare at the mess I made. Three tours overseas and three women who walked away because I couldn’t give them what they needed. They all said I was emotionally unavailable when I caught them.
My last girlfriend said I was a ghost even when I was standing right in front of her. Three for three, I had to admit I was the common denominator.
I swore I’d never put another woman through that again. Swore I’d stay single rather than half-ass another relationship.
Then Sloane showed up with grease on her cheek, fear in her eyes, and that quiet strength that hit me harder than any bullet ever could. One look and I knew I wasn’t walking away. She’s not getting scraps of me. She’s getting all of me, every damn day.
There will be no shutting down. Not this time.
I clean up, breathing ragged, already knowing one taste will never be enough. Sloane is mine now. And I’m going to ruin her for anyone else.