Chapter three
Grady
I help Scottie out of the car, thank our driver, then walk her up to the garage.
“God, this place hasn’t changed,” Scottie murmurs as I unlock the office door and pull her inside, locking it behind us.
The only light in the space comes from the moon and street lamps outside the windows.
Scottie wanted to see everything about my new life, so I carefully guide us through the office and into the garage.
“Oh, come on. The outside has a new coat of paint and the name is different. You’ve got to give me credit for that.” I flip the lights on just as the smell of rubber and oil hits our noses, followed by the sound of the lights buzzing to life.
Scottie’s eyes scour the space. There are several cars in the bays still, customers who needed more than just routine maintenance.
The Camaro that was giving us trouble last week is ready to be picked up on Monday, and in the far corner, under the sheet that keeps her safe, is my ’73 Nova—my own project that I’ll get to someday.
“This is a big change from swinging a bat and wearing a glove.” She meets my eyes.
“Yeah, it is. But working on cars is the only other thing I really liked besides baseball.”
She reaches out her hand to me and I take it. “Show me around.”
I give her the tour, showing her the tire balancing machine, the welding station, and how to use the vehicle lift before we end at the tool shelf.
“It’s a lot cleaner than I expected.” She wrinkles her nose at me. “But this stands out like a sore thumb.” She strides over to the Nova. “What’s under here?”
I lift the sheet and rip it off the car. “My project.”
She tilts her head at the car. “Doesn’t look like you’ve done much.”
Laughing, I reply, “Haven’t had much time.” That’s a lie. I could make time, I just haven’t. I haven’t had the motivation—for this or much of anything lately.
She runs her hand over the hood, dust collecting on her hand before she wipes it on her jeans. “She sure is sexy though.”
I wait for her gaze to meet mine again before replying. “Yeah, she sure fucking is.”
My pulse hammers as our breaths grow shallow, but neither of us moves.
“Are you ready to prove that coming here wasn’t a mistake?” she asks breathlessly, her chest rising and falling rapidly. My self-control snaps, and I quickly close the distance between us, burying my hand in her hair.
I pull her head back slightly, grip her hip possessively, and say, “Nothing between us could ever be a mistake, Scottie,” before crashing my mouth to hers.
With one taste I know that this woman just might ruin me.
Scottie’s lips mirror my own, licking, seeking, and when our tongues meet, a groan travels up my throat and vibrates against her mouth.
“Fuck,” I mumble against her lips.
“Don’t stop, Grady.”
Lifting her up by her hips, I place her on the hood of the Nova and press her against the cool metal surface.
God, I want to devour her right here, but she deserves better than this.
Better than a rush to get each other naked, better than fumbling sex on the hood of my car.
Our mouths move over each other, my hands trace her body, memorizing her curves, how soft her skin feels as I run my palms up her arm, how fucking incredible she tastes and sounds, dragging me even further under her spell.
But before I can suggest we go to my house, she pushes me backward, hops down from the hood, and strips off her jacket, tossing it to the ground. Then she unbuttons her jeans, kicking off her wedges before peeling them down her legs, leaving her standing there in her red top and black G-string.
I drag a hand down my face, trying to pick my jaw up off the floor. “Jesus Christ, Scottie.”
“Touch me, Grady,” she whispers, and I fight every ounce of my control not to pounce on her immediately.
I lift her back on the hood of my car, spread her legs open, and lower my face to her pussy, dragging my nose through her slit and inhaling her scent through the thin strip of silk before biting the inside of her thigh, trying to pace myself.
She moans, lifting her head up to watch me as I apply pressure to her clit through the fabric with my fingers.
“You’re sure you want this, Scottie?”
She nods hurriedly. “Hell yes.”
Without any more hesitation, I grab the strings at her hips, rip the thong from her body and drag my tongue through her slit, watching her eyes roll into the back of her head. “Oh God, yes…”
I lick her slowly, drawing a moan from her as her fingers dig into my hair.
Jesus Christ. Even her pussy tastes like heaven—pure, unfiltered heaven.
My cock weeps behind my jeans, begging for his turn, but not yet. This woman is going to come on my mouth and then I’ll sink into her tight heat, bring us both to the edge, and fuck her over and over until we both can’t keep our eyes open any longer.
I need it. I need to feel her. And by the way she’s riding my face right now, I have a feeling she needs this too.
I circle her clit with my tongue and suck, feeling her grow wetter against my mouth. Lapping up her arousal, I make sure to explore every inch of her before coating two of my fingers in her wetness and sinking them inside her.
“God damn,” I grate out, watching my fingers disappear in and out of her before bringing my tongue back to her clit, teasing her with soft strokes and circles. “I could eat your pussy all night.”
Her body slides down the hood of the car, but I fall to my knees so I can still reach her, not wanting to stop for anything.
Her thighs shake, her hands tighten in my hair, and just when I feel her constrict around my fingers, she screams through her orgasm, her pleasure echoing in the empty garage.
I peer up just in time to watch the ecstasy paint her features, her eyes squeezing shut as moans escape her lips.
And right then and there, I commit the sight to memory because nothing is more perfect than Scottland Daniels climaxing on the hood of my car.
“Holy shit,” she breathes as I pull my fingers out of her and lick them clean, locking eyes with her as I do.
“We’re not even close to being done, Scottie,” I say, rising from my knees.
“Good. Because now it’s my turn to taste you.” She slides off the car and drops to her knees, reaching for my belt buckle.
“Fuck, woman.” I push her curls from her face so I can see her eyes. “This is really fucking happening, isn’t it?”
“Don’t ruin the moment, Reynolds,” she teases as she pulls my zipper down, pushes my pants down, and pulls my cock dripping with pre-cum from my briefs. “God, yes,” she says as she admires my dick, licking the slit before circling the head with her tongue.
“That’s it, baby. Suck me.”
She pulls me in halfway, flicking her tongue on the underside of my shaft before pulling me all the way out.
And then she takes me deep, so deep that I hit the back of her throat, making her gag, but she handles it flawlessly, easing me out just enough to find a rhythm that brings me to the breaking point quicker than I wanted.
“Fuck, Scottie. Keep doing that and I’m going to come down your throat.”
She releases me long enough to say, “Please,” and takes me back in her mouth, using her hands in combination with her lips, cupping my balls as she works me over, pulling my orgasm from me.
Facing the ceiling, I brace for the white-hot pleasure that’s about to shoot out of me, but I drop my head back down just in time to watch Scottie’s eyes flutter shut as the first spurt of cum hits her tongue.
“Fuck…yes…” Groaning, I keep fucking her mouth, watching her take every last drop until she releases me and smiles up at me, proudly. I lift her up and pull her to my chest, cupping the side of her face before planting my lips on her. “I think it’s safe to say our friendship is effectively ruined.”
She shakes her head. “I think we just unlocked a new level of friendship.”
I reach down to pull my pants up, then toss her jeans at her. “Come on. Let’s go to my house. It’s warmer and there’s a bed.”
She pulls her pants up, fluffs her hair, and says, “Lead the way.”
When I worked here as a teenager, Mr. Rogers lived in the apartment above the garage, which was fine for a single man without a family. But I wanted an actual home, so I built a house on the back half of the property—and I spared no expense.
We trek across the field that separates the garage from my house, treading lightly through the grass so she doesn’t fall.
But before we reach the front porch, Scottie deviates toward the huge oak tree in front of my house, staring up at it as I put a few feet of distance between us so I can watch her.
“Wow. Now that’s a tree.”
“Is that the alcohol talking, or are you seriously mesmerized by it?”
She smirks at me over her shoulder. “Am I not allowed to appreciate a good tree, Grady?”
I walk over to her, wrapping my arm around her waist and slowly backing her up until her back hits the trunk. “I think you should appreciate anything that makes you happy, Scottie.”
Her eyes crinkle at the corners. “Do you remember the last time we were under a tree?”
“You mean the night you did a keg stand at Derek’s party?”
She laughs. “Yeah. Swinging in that tire wasn’t a good idea.”
“I tried to tell you that, but you were always more concerned with me throwing up than yourself.”
Her smile falls and then she reaches up and pushes my hair back. “If I hadn’t thrown up, would you have kissed me that night, Grady?” Her voice is a whisper, but those words travel right down my spine.
That night lived rent free in my head for years. I would think back to my missed opportunity, but then remembered that kissing her wouldn’t have mattered. I still would have left, and so would she.
“I wanted to, Scottie. Fuck, I did.” I lean my forehead on hers. “But we were both leaving and…”
“Would you kiss me now? Under this tree?”