by Stacy Borel
“Mmmhmm,” he said incredulously.
There was a clicking from the hallway and then a door shut. I hopped off the counter and stood next to Foster. Crew strode in like a man on a mission. The intensity of his stare and determination on his face were enough to make me grip the edge of the Formica. He stopped in front of me, and I craned my neck to look up into his golden eyes. He wanted to talk, but he wasn’t going to with Foster right here. His chest heaved, and I held my breath. There wasn’t a sound to be heard, not even the hum of the refrigerators cooling fan.
Crew worked his jaw. “Wanna go somewhere?” he asked.
He shouldn’t have asked. I didn’t think I really had a choice.
“Okay.”
Grabbing my hand, he tugged me toward the door. I gave a worried glance toward Foster, but he was grinning like an idiot. Foster threw something at my face just before Crew yanked me out the front door. I caught it, and I held on as I was pulled toward a new Camry I’d never seen before. I was confused as he hit a button, and the shiny green vehicle lit up. My brows drew together when he opened the door for me and waited for me to step in.
“It’s a rental,” he stated as though I’d said my question out loud.
I climbed in and yanked on my seat belt. I didn’t know rentals came this nice. My parents had one when we went to Maui when I was in high school, and it was so basic that the only thing electric in it was the windows. Walking around the front, he got in, and we started off down the road. I kept my mouth shut as the miles drifted behind us. We turned to head out of town, but he only made one big circle. Why did he do that? With every mile, I grew more anxious. He wasn’t speaking, and his presence was crushing. I hadn’t looked any further past his devastatingly alluring eyes to notice he was wearing a long-sleeved black thermal shirt and a pair of jeans that had so much wear and tear on them, it was like he’d worn the life out of them. His dark hair was in a state of disarray, and I’m sure he’d spent the better part of the past few hours running his fingers through the tangled mess. The smell of him being in such proximity was in every breath I inhaled.
Peering at him out of the corner of my eye, I felt a mix of frustration and focus. It was the beginning of November. Puffs of white were on the ground and in the air. The clouds matched the cotton in the fields that had yet to be harvested. It was cooler outside, and the sun was beginning to set earlier in the day. These months just before winter were some of my favorites. Trees in the south had a timetable of about three weeks from when the leaves changed colors till they were all barren and naked.
We’d been driving for about twenty minutes before we wound up in front of Mac’s Garage. I sat up a little straighter, unsure of why we were here. I’d driven by this place so many times growing up. I’d seen the building change from white, to blue, to now gray. An old-fashioned wooden sign used to read Edward’s Auto Shop EST. 1935, but now there was an electronic marquee that flashed Mac’s Garage brightly near the entrance. Catty-corner to the four-stalled car hops was a two-story white house with a detached garage. There was an apartment above it, and the paint was flaking off. The whole place had seen better days.
Aside from loyal customers, I didn’t know who would bring their cars here. Naturally, I’d opt for a place that didn’t have tires lying haphazardly in the browning grass or oil stains marring the cracked pavement. It had all seen better days.
Crew pulled in, and he slowly rolled to one of the doors. Once parked, we sat in the Camry, and the only sound was his heaving breaths. I wasn’t sure he was okay. There was no handbook on this. No book for “Boy You Dry Humped Is Angry: For Dummies.” Did I speak? Did I reach over and take his hand in solidarity? Was he expecting silence from me right now? Hell, I didn’t even know why he dragged me from the apartment only to circle town twice, then come to his workplace.
I did the only thing I could do. I looked straight in front of me and prayed like hell he would speak.
Ashton
I THINK A LIFETIME PASSED before I heard him move, and he opened his door. He got out, came around to my side, and waited for me to step out. When I did, he walked to the closed garage door and bent down to a padlock. He put the combination in that made the lock click, then pop open. As he gave the heavy metal frame a hard shove, it roared upward and slammed when it met the end of the tracks. I winced at the harsh noise.
I followed as he walked inside. Looking around at the space, I was surprised to see just how large it was because it appeared much smaller from the outside. I was having a flashback when I watched My Girl 2 for the first time, and Vada went to California to visit her uncle. He was a mechanic, and I’d swear this place was modeled to replicate that very place. Rolling tool chests, counters along the back wall covered in metal parts, wrenches, filters, and dirty paper towels that needed to be tossed. Three of the stalls were taken, one of which was Crew’s Camaro, and the last stall on the far end was empty. A large framed hole was in the ground that the car would roll over so the mechanic could get to the undercarriage. I knew that oil places still had these, but newer car shops had lifts that electronically jacked the vehicle in the air.
Crew approached his shiny black car that currently had its hood propped open and a rolling tray next to it. Sitting on top of it was the broken fan belt that I recalled him holding the previous night. I peered at all the metal machinery, not having a clue what I was looking at. I had no idea if he replaced it or not. Aside from where there were an oil symbol and windshield fluid, I might as well be looking under the skin of a human being. Everything was foreign.
Mac’s was closed as it was Sunday. I was awkwardly standing next to Crew with my thumbs tucked into my waistband. I hated not knowing what to do with my hands.
“I’m sorry about last night,” he said quietly, keeping his eyes trained on his car.
I rotated the upper half of my body and looked at him. “There’s nothing to be sorry for. I had a great time.”
“Either way, it didn’t bode well for me that your dad had to come to the rescue.”
“He didn’t mind. He likes you.” I didn’t want to admit that I shouldn’t have called him.
Sarcasm oozed out of his voice. “And pigs have grown wings to fly. Hell is full of icicles. And Foster doesn’t like girls.”
I chirped out a laugh. He wasn’t wrong. “Okay, I get it. My dad is, well … my dad. I could have left the house in a ski suit with my best girlfriends, and he still would have reacted the same.”
He snorted. “Doubtful.”
“No, really. Ask Foster.” I shook my head and sighed loudly. “Being the daughter of Camden Brooks isn’t cupcakes and rainbows. He expects things, and I can’t stand to disappoint him.” I started twirling errant loose hairs that had fallen from my pineapple bun around my pointer and middle fingers. “As I get older, though, it becomes increasingly difficult to maintain that persona versus who I am. If he could revert me to a babbling six-month-old infant, he probably would without a second thought.”
Crew placed both of his hands on the car, the muscle of his triceps proudly showing their defined lines. “If that’s true, then you are cheating your dad out of enjoying who his daughter is.”
“That may be, but I’ve lived under his roof for twenty-one years now. I love him. I just get angry with him sometimes. My noose can be too tight.”
He stood upright, his height towering over my smaller frame, and took a step forward. One little step that brought him so close to my body. One that allowed his scent to envelop me and wrap me in a blanket of warmth. I shivered. Not because I was cold, but because the very air around him was enigmatic.
“Why were you angry?” I asked breathily.
A subtle peppermint smell flitted across my nose as he exhaled. “My uncle and this place.” His eyes focused on something over my head. “Let’s just say, he’s the kind of person you don’t even have to know to fucking hate. Just the way his face looks makes you want to drop a transmission on his head simply for occupying space.”
>
“Is he really that bad?” I asked.
The sarcastic laugh that came out of him could have been deemed terrifying. “Mac is a fucking lunatic. That man lives to make everyone else feel like they are worthless.” He dropped his head for a moment before he brought it back up, only to look straight ahead at the underside of his hood. “I showed up today to do some catch-up work, and when I told him about the fan belt, do you know what he said to me?” His lip curled, showing me impressively white teeth. “He told me, ‘Should’ve taken care of your shit before you left, boy. A goddamn man doesn’t need someone’s daddy picking up their messes.’ I certainly don’t stick around to put up with his shit.”
Then what did he stay for? I’d been angry with my family before but never have I ever thought those kinds of thoughts. Whatever this was about, it stretched beyond a little squabble or family drama. The resentment in his eyes was deep and complicated. I couldn’t imagine walking around with that kind of hatred for someone.
“Tell me how you really feel.” I attempted a pathetic joke.
He gave me his golden stare. “If I told you how I really felt, you’d be naked on your back in the back seat of one of these cars right now shaking so hard you’d forget your own name. And my uncle wouldn’t be breathing.”
I gaped, nearly swallowing my tongue. That was hardly the answer I was expecting, but nonetheless, it made my heart seize. My chest began to rise and fall as he made a motion to close the small gap between us. He was flush to my body now, and my mind was in a tizzy.
“Tell me what you’re thinking.”
Sentence. He’s asking for a comprehensible sentence, Ash. “P-p-pretty blue.” It was the first damn thing I could think besides how good he seemed to fit against me. The back of my thighs against the cool smooth metal of the Camaro’s bumper were the only thing keeping me grounded. That was a full sentence, right?
The edges of his mouth formed a small smile. “What’s blue?”
“The sky. Right now. It’s blue.” My words were robotic, and I sounded out of breath. Where in the hell did all the oxygen go? “And clouds.”
His tattooed arm came up, and he placed his hand on the side of my neck, his thumb casually pressing against my pulse. “Actually, it’s not,” he replied.
“What?” I exhaled.
“It’s warmth.” He slid his hand up till it was now cupping my cheek. He gently turned my head for me to look out the still open garage door. “Purples, reds, yellows … soon to be black. The blue is gone.”
I looked back at him. Black. Just like the color of his car and just like the dark depths of his pupils. He was gazing down at me like he could eat me whole. Yet the way his hand framed my face was so tender it felt confusing.
“Crew?”
“Hmm?”
“What’s happening?”
He bent forward, only inches from my face. “I’m going to kiss you.”
There was a dramatic pause. One where the air was static. Then it happened.
In one electrifying moment that built from the time I laid eyes on him in that bathroom. I had imagined him doing this, but my thoughts could have never known how incredible it would be. His mouth pressed to mine, and I melted into him on a deep, long sigh. It started so soft and light with a gentle touching of lips. The ease with which he took what he wanted was so disciplined, like the big bad wolf had captured the rabbit. I remember my uncle once telling Foster before they left for a hunting trip that if an animal was scared while it was dying, the blood pumping through it would ruin the meat. Capturing a scared creature took finesse. Crew was slow and calculated as if not to scare me away.
I wasn’t going anywhere.
In fact, I was the opposite. I leaned into him, encouraging him for more. He followed my silent direction and deepened the kiss. He parted his lips, and the smallest hint of his tongue swiped across my slightly parted lips. If he was asking permission for more, permission was freaking granted. We’d barely started this dance, and I felt the dampness in my panties. My body was alive and ready. I opened myself for more, and he took full advantage. Snaking his arm around my waist, he lifted me onto the front part of his car, my head barely touching the open hood. My legs opened, and he stepped between them.
I was gripping the sides of his shirt, not feeling brave enough to hold on to him like I wouldn’t let go. Honestly, I wasn’t sure I would. His kiss was relentless and passionate. What surprised me more than anything was how tender it was when I expected teeth clashing, tongue tangling, couldn’t catch my own breath harshness. Everything about Crew was severe. His lips weren’t brutal in their attack but beckoned me to taste the poison. His tongue wasn’t unrelenting and suffocating; instead, it stroked mine like a song that hit the heart. He was careful and calculated when I excepted him to rip my clothes off and have his way with me.
He was taking his time. He was savoring me.
When his teeth scraped along my lower lip, I took a moment to catch my breath. His lips traveled down the column of my neck as both of his hands pressed up my back. I tilted my head to the side to give him further access, and a shiver ran through me.
“God, you taste good,” he growled.
I smiled inwardly. “What do I taste like?”
He pulled back and looked at me with playfully seductive eyes. “Truthfully? Peaches.”
I’d had a nectarine-flavored energy drink while I was at the apartment, so he wasn’t far off the mark. When his tongue slid up my neck to my earlobe, all coherent thought left me. I released a moan of appreciation, and he pulled me even closer. Rough hands were at the bottom of my shirt and moving up till they cupped my breasts. He didn’t still his mouth, but his fingers gave me a moment to object. When I didn’t, he gave them a squeeze, his fingers rolling my nipples through the lithe fabric. I was pleased I at least left the house wearing some of my cuter undergarments than I would normally wear on days like today.
Point for me.
Arching my back, Crew peeled away from me and turned. I looked at him in confusion. He went to the garage door, which faced the road, and reached up to give the heavy metal a hard yank downward to slam it shut. I hadn’t even given it a second thought that we were giving all the passersby a show. When he spun to face me, there was a change in his demeanor. His gruff expression screamed he was about to teach me a lesson in pleasure my body had never partaken in.
His steps back to me were ones with a purpose. I sat frozen, waiting for his body to reach mine. Without so much as asking me, he stood me up and lifted my arms above my head. I complied without a fight. Pulling my top up, he removed it and draped it over the tray next to his car. The straps of my cream-colored lace bra slipped off my shoulder, and he reached up to guide the material under my breasts. His eyes grazed over my exposed skin, and he slowly shook his head.
“Fucking perfection,” he praised.
I was never a bold person when it came to sexual endeavors. I was the lights off, hide under the covers type. I was nervous of judgment, but with Crew’s wandering eyes, I loved his perusal. He was admiring me like I was a Greek goddess who deserved to be worshipped. I stood boldly in front of him wishing he was nearly as naked as I was.
I wanted to touch him.
Grabbing my hand, he led me backward, never taking his gaze off me. Once we got to the back door, he opened it and motioned for me to climb in. I enjoyed the cool leather on my searing skin. Being that it was cold outside, I should have needed a jacket, but I felt like I was walking through burning flames. He was melting me. When I settled, Crew looked at me, tilting his head to the side. He was planning his attack, and an anxious thrill coursed through me. Reaching behind his head, he tugged his shirt off in the sexiest way. I’d always thought men only undressed like that in the movies.
“Lean back, Ashton.”
I complied without question. My elbows on the seat kept me propped up to see him.
He grinned. Reaching out, Crew grabbed the waistband of my lounge pants, and I lifted myself ever
so slightly to allow for him to pull them off. My feet rested on the edge of the doorframe, exposing my legs. The cool air made my pert nipples harden. I wasn’t a busty girl, but felt proportioned with my C-cup breasts. My face felt flush. Being exposed to him like this, knowing what was about to happen, I felt bashful. I wanted to take my shirt and cover back up. The dome light of the car was shining down on my body like a dim spotlight, highlighting areas that no man had ever really gotten to see.
“Are you scared?” he asked, genuinely curious.
I shook my head, trying to maintain my composure. “No.” Too bad my voice quivered.
“It’s okay to be nervous, but I don’t ever want you to be scared with me.” He kneeled in front of me.
I inhaled sharply when his hands skimmed up my calves and stopped just atop my knees. “I’m not afraid of you.”
“You’re afraid of what I can do to you,” he stated directly.
I didn’t answer. I stayed quiet because he was right. If I opened my mouth to speak, I’d throw up every emotion I was currently feeling. Every little thing that he’d made me feel since I met him would come out in a jumbled verbal word vomit that would look messy and gross. He was making me feel things that I’d not felt before. He made me nervous and aware of myself. He made me question who I was and how I was with my dad. Not because it was a bad thing, but because I censored myself with my family. Right now, I anticipated his touch, and I wanted him inside me. A woman who’d known him for all of two months and shouldn’t desire someone so much.
I wanted him.
I liked him.
I needed him.
I wanted to take whatever he offered and soak it up like a dry sponge.
Instead of waiting for him to do it, I skipped any steps he might have taken and pulled down my panties. Dangling them off one of my feet, I let them fall to the dirty ground. His eyes watched, rapt with its movement. I nearly felt the golden caress of his irises as they moved up my body and paused on my parted center. I had no doubt he was viewing every glistening inch that clearly expressed my desire to be with him. He was nearly eye level to my shaved folds. Again, I praised myself for not only wearing my better panties but also for cleaning up down there only the day prior.
