Chapter 22
JAKE
What I love most, though, is the sound of Stella’s heels clicking across the concrete as she makes her rounds, checking on projects and keeping us all in line. She’s been in a surprisingly good mood since her meeting with Doc two days ago; the weight she’d been carrying lifted.
“Morning, boys,” she calls as she emerges from her office, tablet in hand and looking as stunning as ever in a fitted green dress that hugs every curve. “Progress reports, please.”
“Corvette’s ready for paint,” Asher announces from his station.
“Mustang restoration is on schedule for Friday delivery,” Parker adds.
“And this beautiful beast,” I say, patting the Shelby’s guard, “is fighting me every step of the way, but we’re getting there.”
“Sounds like your type, Jake,” José calls with a grin. “Beautiful, high-maintenance, and impossible to control.”
“Are you talking about the car or Stella?” Chase asks innocently.
“HEY!” Stella protests, but she’s laughing. “I am not high maintenance!”
“Darl,” I say, shaking my head as I wipe my hands on a rag and step closer to her, “you have a very specific coffee order that takes three minutes to explain, you organise your wardrobe by colour and season, and you once made us redo an entire invoice because the font was wrong.”
“The font was Comic Sans,” she replies, dignified. “No self-respecting business uses Comic Sans.”
“Point proven,” Robert chuckles from his welding bay.
“I prefer ‘attention to detail’ over ‘high maintenance,’” Stella says, chin tipping up.
“Whatever you want to call it,” I murmur, close enough to catch a whiff of her perfume, “it’s sexy as hell.”
The workshop erupts in groans and fake gagging.
“Get a room,” Rhys calls.
“We have a room,” I point out. “It’s called Stella’s office.”
“JAKE!” Her face goes bright red, but she’s fighting a smile.
“What? I’m just saying it’s private, has a desk, blinds, and a lockable door…”
“I’m going to kill you,” she threatens, though the heat in her eyes says she’s thinking about very different activities involving that desk.
“Empty threats,” José observes. “She’s been threatening to kill us for months and we’re all still here.”
“That’s because you’re useful,” Stella fires back. “Jake, on the other hand…”
“Is very useful,” I finish with a wicked grin. “Ask me about my oral skills sometime.”
Silence holds for a beat before the room explodes into laughter and wolf whistles. Stella looks like she wants the floor to swallow her whole.
“I hate all of you,” she declares, but the laugh slips out anyway.
“No, you don’t,” Chase chirps. “You love us. We’re your dysfunctional work family.”
“Emphasis on dysfunctional,” she mutters, but there’s genuine affection in her voice.
The morning rolls on with the usual banter and busy hands. I’m making good progress on the Shelby when I realiseStella’s been in her office for over an hour without emerging. Usually she’s in constant motion—checking projects, answering questions, keeping everything ticking.
Curious, I wipe my hands and head to her office. Through the glass I see her hunched over the desk, absorbed in whatever she’s working on. Her brow is furrowed in concentration, and she’s twirling a strand of red hair around her finger—the tell she has when she’s thinking hard about something.
Fuck, she’s beautiful. Even when she’s stressed and focused on work, even when she probably hasn’t looked up from her computer in an hour, she’s the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.
I knock lightly on the doorframe. “Everything alright in here?”
She looks up, blinking like she’s surfacing from deep water. “Oh—hi. What time is it?”
“Nearly noon. You’ve been in here for hours.”
“Have I?” She checks her watch, frowning. “I was reviewing the quarterly financials for Arden and got caught up in some discrepancies.”
“Anything serious?”
“No. Just invoicing errors from a few months back—before we implemented the new systems.” She stretches, rolling her shoulders, tension bunching along her neck.
“You look tired,” I observe, moving around her desk to stand behind her chair.
“Just a bit. I’ve been staring at numbers for too long.”
Without asking, I set my hands on her shoulders and work at the knots. She melts under my touch, a soft sigh slipping out that goes straight to my cock.
“That feels amazing,” she murmurs, her head tipping forward as my thumbs dig into the tight spots along her neck.
“You’re wound tighter than José after three Red Bulls,” I tease, easing a stubborn knot. “When’s the last time you took a proper break?”
“I took a break yesterday. For lunch.”
“A ten-minute sandwich at your desk doesn’t count.”
“It does if you’re busy.”
I work down to the tension between her shoulder blades. Heat radiates through the thin fabric of her dress, and when another quiet moan escapes her, I have to bite back one of my own.
“Better?” I ask, voice rougher than intended.
“Much.” She tilts her head back to look at me, and the trust and desire I see in her green eyes makes my chest tight. “You have very talented hands, Mr Walsh.”
“Do I now?” I bend, my mouth close to her ear. “You should see what else I can do with them.”
Her breath hitches; her pulse quickening at her throat. “Jake, we’re at work.”
“Are we?” I glance around the office, noting the closed door, but the blinds are open. In three long strides, I reach the wall of windows, yank the string, and shield us from view of the workshop. “Looks to me like we’re in a private office with a very comfortable desk.”
“Someone could come in.”
I take another step. “Door’s locked,” I say lightly. I’d turned the deadbolt when I walked in.
I reach her desk, lean down, and spin her chair to face me.
“The guys will notice if we’re both missing.”
“They’re flat out. And if they notice, they’ll assume we’re having a meeting.”
“What kind of meeting?” she asks, breath quickening, resistance crumbling; the current between us is at a low boil.
“A very important discussion about… workplace morale,” I murmur, kissing the sensitive spot behind her ear.
She shivers, and I can feel her melting further. “Is that what we’re calling it?”
“Among other things.” My hands slide from her shoulders down her arms, then rest on her thighs. Even through the fabric of her dress, I can feel the heat of her skin, and when my thumbs stroke along her inner thighs, she lets out a low whimper.
“Jake,” she breathes—more plea than protest.
“Stand up,” I command softly.
She rises without question, and I swear to God that alone makes me want to forget all about professionalism.
“You’re very distracting, Ms Lloyd,” I tell her, turning her and easing her back against the desk edge.
“Am I? I was just trying to work.”
“And you looked so beautiful doing it. All focused and competent and in control.” My hands trace her sides, feeling the curves I’ve memorised over the past months. “Do you know what that does to me?”
“Tell me,” she whispers.
“It makes me want to mess you up a little. Make you forget spreadsheets and quarterly reports.” I lift her onto the desk and step between her legs. “Make you think about nothing but how good I can make you feel.”
Her hands fist in my shirt, hauling me closer. “Show me.”
Permission is all I need. I kiss her deep, pouring the months of want and all the love into it. She melts, arms winding around my neck.
“God, I love kissing you,” I murmur against her lips. “Could do it for hours.”
“We don’t have hours,” she reminds me, breathless.
“Then we’d better make the most of the time we’ve got.”
My hands find the hem of her dress, sliding it up her thighs slowly, teasingly. She’s wearing stockings—her ‘extra professional’ armour—and the silk against bare skin does my head in.
“These stockings,” I growl, fingers toying at the lace tops, “are going to be the death of me.”
“That was the idea,” she admits with a wicked smile.
“Tease.”
“You love it.”
“I love you,” I correct, my hands gliding higher to the edge of her panties.
She’s already wet when I touch her through the fabric, already ready for me. The knowledge that I can affect her this quickly, this completely, never fails to amaze me.
“Fuck, Stella,” I breathe. “You’re so wet.”
“Your fault,” she gasps as I push the fabric aside and stroke her.
“Good. I want to be the only one who makes you feel like this.”
My fingers work her steadily, and I watch her try to keep quiet as pleasure builds. Her head tips back, mouth open on a silent moan, and the sight is so erotic I nearly lose it.
“That’s it,” I coax, circling her clit. “Let go for me, darl.”
“I can’t… not here… someone might hear…”
“Then you’d better stay quiet,” I murmur, my free hand coming up to rest gently at her throat—that spot that always undoes her.
The combination of my hand between her thighs and that light pressure at her throat tips her over. She comes with a stifled cry, body shuddering as the waves of pleasure wash over her.
“Beautiful,” I murmur, watching her fall apart. “So fucking beautiful.”
When she floats back down, she looks up at me, dazed and satisfied.
“That was…” she starts.
“Unprofessional?” I offer, grinning.
“Incredible,” she corrects. “But also very unprofessional.”
“Worth it, though?”
“Definitely worth it.” She pulls me down for another kiss; I can taste the satisfaction on her lips. “But now I’m going to be distracted for the rest of the day.”
“Good. I want you thinking about this—about me—and about what we’re going to do when we get home.”
“Jake,” she warns, but she’s smiling anyway.
“What? I’m just thinking of all the ways I’m going to worship your body. All the places I’m going to kiss you, touch you, taste you…”
“Stop,” she laughs, pushing at my chest. “I actually do have work to finish.”
“Fine,” I concede, helping smooth her dress and checking she looks boardroom-ready again. “But tonight…”
“Tonight,” she agrees, eyes already darkening with anticipation.
I unlock the door and stroll back into the workshop, trying to look casual despite the fact that I’m harder than steel and thinking about nothing but getting Stella home later. The guys barely look up from their work, too absorbed in their own jobs to clock anything amiss.
“How’re the quarterly reports going?” Chase asks when he spots me.
“Very well,” I reply, unable to keep the satisfaction from my voice. “Stella’s making excellent progress.”
Through the office window she’s back at her desk. The blinds are up, the flush still on her cheeks, and a contented smile playing at her mouth. Every few minutes she glances up, catches my eye, and the heat in her gaze promises tonight is going to be very interesting.
“Jake,” José calls, “you’ve got that expression again.”
“What expression?”
“The one that says you’re thinking about shagging your girlfriend.”
“I don’t have an expression.”
“You absolutely do,” Parker says. “It’s your mentally undressing look.”
“I don’t need to mentally undress her,” I shoot back, before I can stop myself. “I know exactly what she looks like naked.”
Groans and laughter ricochet around the room.
“Too much information, mate,” Robert calls out.
“Way too much,” Asher adds.
But I don’t care about their protests. I’m too busy thinking about the woman in that office, how lucky I am to have found her, and the life we’re building.
Six months ago, I thought I was content with a simple existence. But Stella showed me what I was missing—not just the physical pleasure—though that’s incredible—but the emotional connection, the partnership, the feeling of being completely known and loved.
The afternoon wears on. I return to the Shelby, glancing up every so often. Each time she’s focused and flawless, all competence and calm. Now and then she catches me looking and gives me a small smile that’s worth more than any words.
This is my life now: the perfect blend of work I love and a woman I adore; mates who feel like family; a future I can see.
I wouldn’t change a damn thing.
Thank you for reading Jake and Stella’s story. This was supposed to be a short spicy novella but quickly turned into so much more!