Chapter 12
Scotty
Eight fifty-seven.
I stare at the clock on the wall like I can intimidate it into rolling backward. It doesn’t. The second hand ticks, loud as a hammer on an empty bay.
Her coffee sits next to mine on the counter. I brought her the stupid seasonal one she likes. It’s cold now.
I call again, straight to voicemail. I end the call before the beep and toss the phone on the workbench. It skids, knocks a socket loose, and the metal rings across the concrete.
“She said she’d be here,” I mutter to no one but the empty shop and the Mustang staring at me.
My brain, unhelpful, queues up a highlight reel of last night’s worst-case scenarios: Adrienne laughing with some idiot who isn't afraid to go after her. A hand at her waist that isn’t mine.
Her phone dead at the bottom of a purse she forgot she even brought because she’s too busy falling in love with some Joe fuckin Schmoe.
I yank the Mustang’s tarp back in frustration.
I really don’t fucking like that she can get to me like this.
But what pisses me off is that this isn’t the first time she’s done this to me, and it probably won’t be the last. I promised myself I wouldn’t fall into her trap this time, then I went and let myself get tangled in her web.
I don’t want to think.
I reach for the radio and turn the speaker up. Metallica fills the bay, the screeching guitar a welcome distraction.
On my back, beneath the front end, I scan the suspension we mapped last weekend. Her handwriting is on the parts list, and just seeing it makes a smile threaten to break my scowl.
“Don’t do that,” I tell myself. She’s late because she was out with someone. She’s late because she forgot about us.
Us? You fucking Idiot.
The ratchet teeth click, click, click as I tighten a bolt. I let the music take me away again, humming along, hoping it can drown out the image of Adrienne’s dress riding up her thighs as some faceless guy sets his hands where mine belong.
“She’s not yours,” I remind myself. “She doesn’t owe you anything.”
The bay door creaks open behind me. I don’t notice until the metal clangs softer and the guitar abruptly cuts mid riff.
“Seriously?” I bark, sliding out from under the car. “I was listening to that.”
She’s standing there, fresh-faced, hair in a messy knot, no makeup, flipping the radio knob with a smirk. “Morning to you, too, sunshine.”
Her tone is light and teasing, like she hasn’t kept me waiting damn near an hour.
“Sorry I’m late,” she says, stepping fully into the light, keys jingling in her hand. “Traffic was stupid.”
I grunt and grab the wrench again. “Got started without you.”
She sets her bag down, eyes flicking over me like she’s checking for damage. “Hey, I said sorry.” She moves closer, fingers brushing my arm.
My jaw locks. My forearms flex against the hood.
“I called,” I bite out. “I texted.”
She sighs, already turning toward the counter.
“I’m sorry, my phone died. I barely remember crawling into bed.
” She drops her gaze, her tone sheepish now, like she really is sorry.
She pulls the dead phone out of her purse, the charger tangled around it.
She plugs it in and places it on the counter.
The jealousy twists sharply in my gut before I can choke it down. I jerk my chin toward the coffee. “Brought you one. It’s cold now.”
She pauses, brows lifting just a little. “You did?”
“Yeah.”
Guilt flickers across her face before she grabs it, pops the lid, and heads for the microwave. “You’re sweet when you’re grumpy.”
I snort, focusing on the bolt in front of me so I don’t have to look at her. The machine hums behind us. Her phone pings as it powers back on. She doesn’t even check it.
The microwave beeps. She pulls the cup out, takes a sip, and moans softly. “God, I needed this after last night.”
She’s clearly trying to make me jealous at this point. I roll my eyes and ignore the comment, but my grip tightens on the wrench so hard it pinches my palm.
She leans in the doorway, coffee cradled in both hands. “Aren’t you gonna ask if I had fun?”
I keep my eyes on the engine. “Did you have fun?”
“Yeah,” she laughs like she’s recalling a memory. “It was good to get out. We danced, laughed… You know, girl stuff. You would have hated it.”
She leaves out the rest, but I see it, that flicker of hesitation, the way she looks anywhere but at me. Something in me snaps. The wrench slips, clangs against the hood, then hits the floor hard enough to make her flinch.
“Jesus, Scotty—”
“You know what, no. Actually, I don’t give a fuck if you had fun.
” My voice comes out louder than I intend, but it gets the point across.
I step toward her, closing the space between us.
“What I want is to fuck you so rough it’s the only thing you can fucking think about until the next time you go out.
So when you’re sitting there laughing, dancing, flirting with those other men, you remember damn well who’s been inside you. ”
I take advantage of her shock-parted lips and kiss her deeply and greedily. She answers with a low sound that punches straight through my chest. Her fingers fist in my shirt, hauling me closer, already giving back everything I’m taking.
“Scotty,” she breathes against my mouth.
“Turn around,” I rasp.
“Bossy.”
“Now.” I give her a hand, turning her and pressing against her back. Her palms land on the cool curve of her Mustang’s hood. She giggles, looking back at me as she wriggles her hips back and forth.
The sight hits me straight in the cock. Adrienne Slade’s juicy ass bent over the car we’re rebuilding together, shoulders squared like she’s bracing, chin tipped so she’s looking back at me, waiting for what I’ll do next.
I step in, crowding her from behind, hands dragging up her thighs, over denim, over the soft give of her hips. I pull my hand back, her eyes still on mine, and bring it down hard against her. She clenches her jaw, her eyes squeezing shut.
“Ow!”
“You kept me waiting,” I grind out, mouth at her ear as I lean over her. “Had me picturing some guy’s hands on this ass, these thighs,” I drag my hands up between her legs, “this pussy… where only mine should be.”
She arches back into me, the smallest roll of her hips. “Maybe I wanted you a little desperate.”
My laugh is nothing but a loud huff. “You got it.”
I catch her wrists and flatten them higher on the hood, then mold my chest to her back and rock my hips forward so there’s no mistaking what she does to me. “You piss me off and drive me crazy at the same time.”
She shivers, head tipping, pulse hammering under the delicate skin where her neck meets her shoulder. “Minimal talking,” she whispers, breathless, taunting. “Just… show me.”
“Yeah,” I say, voice low. “That I can do.”
I kiss the line of her throat, slow and consuming, then sink my teeth lightly into the place that always makes her gasp. One hand leaves the hood, reaches back to grab for me; I catch her fingers and lace them with mine, press both our hands down to the metal.
“Mine,” slips out before I can swallow it.
She turns her head just enough that I catch the curve of her smile. “Then act like it.”
Her comment makes me laugh, but it also pisses me off even further. This is what she wants: me fawning over her, wanting her, but staying just out of reach. She knows she’ll never be mine, and I do too. So I take the opportunity to remind her what it could be like if she were.
I yank her back up, reaching around her to undo her jeans before forcing them down her body.
“Bend over again,” I bark, pushing her naked ass in the air as I undo my own belt with my other hand. I pull my cock free, stroking myself twice before letting it thud against her ass.
“What? No.” She jerks her head to the right, looking back at me in horror. “I can’t take you in my ass.”
“Relax, Adrienne.” I chuckle, holding out my hand and spitting into my palm, “I’m not that much of a bastard.” I run my hand over my cock again, attempting to lube it up as best I can before pressing it against her entrance.
“But with that being said,” I grunt, pushing forward, “this is gonna hurt like a bitch sweetheart.”
“Oh fuck!” She barks, her hands attempting to grip the hood, looking for anything to grab onto so she can crawl away from me.
“No, you don’t.” I grip her hips, pulling her back against me as a string of profanities falls from her lips. “Come on, Adrienne, take it out on me.” I pull out and slide back in a few times, her moans of protest giving way to moans of pleasure.
I fall forward, my cock sliding deeper inside her. My hands roam her body, pulling her against me as I bite down on her shoulder.
“You’ve teased me all these years,” I grunt.
“You get off on it, don’t you? Getting me worked up, making me go home and think about you while I jerk off because you’ll never let me have you.
” I don’t know what I’m even saying at this point.
I’m completely overtaken by lust, desire, frustration, anger, all of it.
I’m almost there, so close to the edge that I slow my movements, taking in several slow breaths.
I kiss her neck, my hands cupping one breast, the other finding her clit. She turns her head to kiss me, moaning against my lips.
“I won’t compete Adrienne.” I pull back enough to look into her eyes, my hand sliding around her throat. I shift my hips, the tip of my cock hitting her G-spot. Her eyelids flutter, her eyes roll to the back of her head. “This pussy is mine as long as it's my cock you’re riding, understand me?”
She nods her head, and I lean in, my lips soft against hers.
“Good girl, because I’m about to bend you back over and fuck you really fucking deep and hard until I come, and then you’re going to get dressed again and work next to me with it leaking out of you.”