And I’ll have to work on my bike before I take her out again.
Crashing into bed would help, but I need some heat for my muscles. I grab my pajamas and a magazine before heading to the bathroom, feeling every step like it’s a marathon. I crank on the tap, take off my clothes, and lean against the counter, breathing in the steam until the bath’s full. I strip off my panties and bra, and dump a couple generous handfuls of piney-scented Epsom salts into the tub of slightly-too-hot water, stirring it with my foot before easing fully down. I rode my ass off tonight and won.
No rough play.
No Patch as a bodyguard.
No problems.
No Matt.
I swirl the water around with my legs, then sink lower, setting my feet flat on the wall by the tap. My skin’s already slightly darker from the hot water. It only stings a little and will make all the difference tomorrow. My quads are so tight that when I knead them it tickles—a sign they’re bad enough to trick my body into not feeling the pain. Massages shouldn’t make you laugh.
The bath was a great idea. Even the small break I took from racing has made it harder on my body.
“Getting soft in your old age, Andy.” I should have brought a glass of wine in here with me. Lazily, I reach for the magazine, knocking it to the floor instead with a soft slap.
I can’t be bothered to grab it.
The heat radiates into my flesh, working its way to a bone-deep relaxation. I lean back and close my eyes, immediately swarmed by visions of Matt. I hadn’t realized how much I’d expected Matt to be there at the race until he didn’t show. Smaller race, smaller purse, but I barely had to pull anything from my bag of tricks. If Matt had been there... but he wasn’t.
And that’s okay.
Today was a big win for team Andy. I’m going to focus on that.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Matthew
It’s going to take some doing to get Andy to agree to go out with me again. She doesn’t seem like the type to hold a grudge, but her straightforward nature makes it harder when you screw up; people as honest as she is take it personally and won’t take excuses—even pretty ones dressed up as justifications.
But I can’t tell her the truth about why I haven’t called—it would make her look at me like the I’m guy I was instead of the guy I am. Technically, yeah, I’ve sort of had to revert to being that asshole from my past I was ashamed of, but the ends justify the means. I think.
I just want to go back to my real life, being the guy who’s not ashamed of his actions, the guy who took Andy out dancing and didn’t feel bad about things he’d done lately. The guy who had a shady past, not a shady present.
So I’m going to have to stretch the truth about why I haven’t been replying to her texts.
It doesn’t feel great, but it’s better than telling her I was running drugs so thugs didn’t kill my little drug running brother. Hey, it was better than robbing liquor stores with my dad and uncle, though, right? Wow, what a moral high ground.
Not exactly the noblest of causes, so I take care with the plan, prepping everything needed before showing up at her shop on Friday afternoon, feeling pretty damn good. Garth’s boss lost his mind when he saw the car, and Garth’s been texting me since he saw it, singing my praises.
Instead of going to the party, I wanted to reconnect with Andy, apologize to her, and make things right.
And take her out again, if she’ll let me.
She glares at me and doesn’t stop sweeping the floor. “What can I help you with?”
“I’m really sorry I haven’t called more.”
She shrugs one shoulder, not looking up from the floor. “Don’t worry about it.”
I walk closer. “I’ve been really busy lately.”
“Again, don’t worry about it.” Dismissal is written all over her posture.
“My bro’s been really affected by his attack, and it’s been exhausting helping him out. I know that makes me sound like an even bigger asshole, but I didn’t want to burden you with the ugly truth of the situation, or bring you down by being a total buzzkill.”
“How is he?”
I bite my lip, feeling bad about using Luke as my justification for not calling—even though he really is the reason I haven’t called. Indirectly. “He’s getting better physically.”
She stabs at the floor half-heartedly a couple times with the broom before glaring at me. “No one’s happy all the time. People go through shit and that’s fine, but it’s not a reason to cut people out of your life, or not talk to them. Do you really think I’m that much of a bitch that I’d be mad at you for working or helping your brother instead of taking me on a date?”
“No.”
“Friends aren’t only for the good times, Matt.”
“I know, and I’m really sorry, Andy. Wait, friends?”
Her lips twitch. “Friends.”
“Friends with benefits?” I push my luck.
She raises her eyebrows and says nothing, so I pull out the big guns and move until we’re only a foot away from each other.
“Friends with picnic privileges?” I pull a picnic packed into a soft lunch bag from my backpack with a flourish. “I made us a picnic—even freshly baked from scratch chocolate chip cookies—to try and make up for that date I missed.” Freshly baked by the ladies at the bakery, but no need to elaborate. “I’ll even ride behind you on your bike so you can drive and kick me off if I’m being a bad date.”
She leans closer and inhales, breathing in the scent of the rich, gooey cookies. “We’ll take your bike so we’re burning your gas. And you’ll drive so I can sit back and enjoy the view.”
The knot in my chest loosens. “So we’re good?”
“You’re lucky I’m hungry.” She sighs. “We are, but don’t fuck around with me, Matt. I mean it. Adults communicate with each other—they don’t disappear. I haven’t got the time or energy in my life right now to deal with someone who wants to jerk me around.”
“I don’t want to jerk you around, I swear.”
She sets the broom down. “Shit happens, I get it. But not returning calls because you’re worried about burdening me is a complete cop-out. Your last chance is on its last legs.” She tosses her hair. “But the freshly baked cookies are scoring you points. Consider this your final last chance.”
It’s more than I deserve. “When can we go?”
“Today’s slow and I’m caught up on work. And hungry for a picnic. You sit here, I’m going to go grab a quick shower.”
The thought of her just upstairs, wet, naked in the shower causes a rush of interest to my cock, but I focus on her. I want to get to know Andy, not just physically, and I want her to know that. This means more to me than a quick lay, even though it shouldn’t. But she doesn’t know the circumstances that brought us together, and doesn’t need to know them. “I’ll be here.”
“Help yourself to coffee,” she calls over her shoulder.
Coffee. A cold shower would be more useful.
SHE CHOSE A BEAUTIFUL place to go for our date. I hate that I missed it last time, but I wouldn’t have been able to fully appreciate it then. We cruise along at a medium pace, down an area with so many different roads to explore and drive down, the scenery equally gorgeous in all of them.
“Left here,” she yells through her helmet, and I turn onto the detour she indicates.
We head down the quiet, narrow road for another ten minutes before she tells me to pull over. We leave the bike and stroll down a short path to a little clearing with trees tall enough to give shade from the worst of the sun without obscuring the view.
I spread out a thin blanket from the top of the bag I packed. “This place is gorgeous.”
“I know. We used to come exploring this area all the time in high school. You could spend months out here and not see everything, but this place always stuck with me. Makes you feel like you’re in the middle of nowhere.”
“Wish I’d had a place like that back then.�
�� I sit and start pulling food from the bag.
She kneels on one side of the blanket. “You were a pretty legendary badass.”
“Don’t believe everything you hear.” Not for the first time, mild shame at my past seeps into the foreground.
“Hey.” Her voice is gentle. “I’m not just a mechanic, or Grant Perris’ daughter. We’re complicated. You were also that guy who saved me from the mean girls, and who is a suspiciously skillful dancer. That’s more important to me than any of the other shit.” She pulls her long, damp braid over her shoulder.
Relief lightens the mood again. “My best friend’s mom taught me to dance. What about you? You put most of the people on the floor to shame.”
“Well, I had dance classes during school. Then a few years ago, my best friend—another mechanic—really got me into it. Instead of going out and getting trashed on the weekends during college, she got me into dancing. She’s frigging amazing, so I had to learn fast to keep up with her and look decent in comparison. I’m not that good.” Her cheeks darken and she fiddles with her hair tie.
I gently take her hand in mine and lower it until she relaxes. “You’re amazing.”
“Thanks.”
“Would you like to go there again sometime so I can watch everyone watching you move?” I take my hand back.
“I’d like that. The dancing, not the other part.”
“Why do you blush when I talk about how sexy you are?”
She bites her lip, which does nothing to diminish her appeal. “Because I’m not used to it and it feels weird.”
“Andy Perris, you’re the sexiest, most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.”
“Thank you, Matt. Now give me one of those magical cookies before I starve to death.”
Funny how she blows off compliments like that. Does she not care, or do they truly embarrass her? I’m guessing the latter, but I hand her a cookie instead of flattering her more, though every word was sincere. “Now, these are pretty potent, so don’t blame me if you take a bite and are hooked forever.”
The look in her eyes as the words leave my mouth squeezes my heart in my chest. I’ve basically just described the way I feel about Andy.
“Maybe we should save those for dessert.”
“Maybe.” Disconcerted, I pull out the Tupperware containers and set them in front of her. “Nothing fancy here, a couple sandwiches and fruit. I hope you’re not a vegetarian.”
She squints at me and pulls the lid off the containers, and smirks down at the turkey club croissants. “I am definitely not a vegetarian.” She grabs one and takes a bite with a funny little smile.
I take the other, suddenly ravenous, and we eat in silence for a couple minutes, listening to the birds calling lazily from the shade in the trees. “How’s work?”
“Frank came in raving about my mods, said his daughter was delighted with her present—even though I barely changed anything, just spruced it up—and is going to drop off another bike for me to work on.”
“That’s awesome. Good job.” I hand her a bottle of water from my bag. “Soon you’ll be a mechanic to the stars, too famous to associate with the likes of me.”
She throws the last bite of her croissant at me. “Shut your face. It is a huge coup for the shop, though. It’s hard being a female mechanic. People don’t take you seriously, and are constantly underestimating you. Dad and Patch don’t get how tough the industry can be. I love it, but sometimes I wasn’t sure I’d make it through.”
I never realized she’s had to struggle to fit in somewhere. I always saw her as someone on the inside sitting pretty. Well-connected, well-off.
“But you did.”
The pride shines through in her grin. “Yeah, I did.”
“Racing’s probably like that too, hey?”
She twists the cap from the bottle. “Yeah. Though, as screwed up as it is, it’s almost easier in the races to be seen as an equal—or at least someone to be taken seriously. I can’t kick another mechanic’s wrench out of his hand and fix the radiator faster than him to prove a point and gain acceptance. The other people in my graduating class didn’t care who my dad was or how good I was on a bike, they just saw someone who didn’t belong and treated me as such.”
“Speaking of badass, though, all of that’s made you pretty tough.”
“I try.” She leans back on her hands. “I’m glad you don’t feel threatened by it.”
I frown. “Why would I be?”
“Not all guys want to date a woman like me, who’s got grease under her nails instead of gel tips.”
“You’re strong, independent, and not afraid to go for the things you want. You don’t back down from a challenge, and you certainly don’t take shit from anyone. You’re basically perfect.”
She sighs and takes a bite of cookie. “Keep saying things like that and I’m going to believe them.”
“Andy, I don’t really care who you dated before—they obviously did a shitty job of seeing who you truly are. I see you. And I want you. I don’t want you to think that all we have is something physical. Don’t get me wrong, I can’t get you out of my mind”—somewhere in there, my voice turned to a growl, so I try to dial it back—“but you’re more to me than that. I like you a lot.”
“I like you too.”
Screw everything, I want her to know how I feel. “You’re not just someone I want to fuck. Things in my life have been crazy lately, and I don’t know that they’re going to get better, but I wanted you to know I care, and I’m not playing games with you. I respect you.”
She sets down her cookie and licks the crumbs from her fingertips. “I appreciate the honesty and I’m glad you respect me. But Matt?”
I raise my eyebrows.
She draws her leather jacket’s zipper down, revealing a pale pink bra so sheer her tight nipples show through the fabric. “Right now I’d love it if you’d respect me up against that tree. Nice and hard.”
She’s been sitting here the whole time wearing nothing underneath that jacket but a sexy little secret. I’m nice and hard before I close the distance between us.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Andy
We stand and his hands gently brush down my belly before using my hips to guide us until my back hits the tree. The hunger in his eyes incinerates my insecurities that he maybe just wanted to hang out as friends today. My bold move worked, even if that had been his plan.
I will never want to be just friends with Matthew.
Ragged breaths enter and leave his lungs in short bursts. “Why are you smiling, Andy?”
His hard cock twitches beneath my hand as I stroke the front of his jeans and pop the top button. “There’s a song I like by The Flys.” I unzip his fly, reaching in to free his cock.
His mouth wanders down the sensitive flesh of my neck. “I only know one of their songs. Got You Where I Want You. Is that the one you mean?”
“Yes.”
His teeth nip my collarbone as my hand slides up and down his rigid length. “Are you sure this is where you want me? In your hand?”
I want him everywhere. “I thought it was a good start.”
“You were right.”
I squeeze harder, hoping he’ll bring those lips back up and kiss me, moaning into his mouth when he does. God, I can’t hold back with Matt. It’s not that I want to, it’s that I think I should.
Not happening.
I’m out of my pants in record time before wrapping a leg around Matt’s waist. He grinds against me, rendering every inch of skin he touches painfully sensitive but demanding of more.
I reach behind me to undo the bra.
He captures that hand and pins it above my head. “Don’t you dare take that off.”
Pleasure rolls upward through my body. “Do you like it?”
His other hand grabs my knee and sizzles its way up the back of my thigh. “You’re so pretty in it I could eat you alive.” The harder he presses against me the more the tree digs into my back and the more
I want him. He nibbles my earlobe and my body curls in toward his lips, every cell focused on the things he’s doing that make my skin want to flail inside out with the intensity of the sensations.
And then he pushes inside, the most welcome of invasions that sets me on fire with demand. I’ll take everything he has to give and ache for more. I wind my arms around his shoulders, helping take some of the weight, not that he’s having any trouble, hips pistoning in and out, driving me harder and higher, but I love touching him, digging my fingers into his flesh, trying to goad him into a frenzy.
He overpowers me, moves me where he wants me like I’m a teeny little thing with no control and I fucking love it.
“Grab that branch and don’t let go.”
I follow Matt’s gaze, and take hold of the branch above our heads, removing some of the weight from Matt’s hips, but from the way he growls and looks at my breasts, I suspect the move had nothing to do with weight and everything to do with the way my arms are spread, opening my jacket, baring my chest to him.
Now that his hands are free, he pulls the front of a cup down, and sucks my nipple into his mouth so hard and deep my pussy spasms. He moans and grinds harder and slower into me. I want to touch him, but dare not let go of the branch, his mouth doing so many good things to my nipple.
I’ll do anything he says if he keeps doing what he’s doing.
He moves up to my mouth with relentless sensuality, kissing and nuzzling up my chest and neck before reclaiming my lips. Everything below my belly button tenses, all nerves firing at full power. I come with a loud crack, as the branch snaps in my hands. Matt easily catches me and keeps thrusting through his own orgasm, pressing me against the trunk with his body while we both pant and shake.
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