Turn Up the Heat

by Kimberly Kincaid

  Bellamy crossed her arms over her chest and looked like she wanted with all her might to say no. But she couldn’t. “They taste better that way.”

  His face got triumphant, and she let out a begrudging smile as he pressed on. “And I’ll bet beyond the shadow of a doubt that you know exactly what wine is the perfect accompaniment to the thirty-two-ounce porterhouse at Butcher and Singer downtown.” It was one of the swankiest steak houses Philly had to offer. She’d probably eaten there a billion times.

  “You’ve been to Butcher and Singer?” Her smile was gone, replaced by total surprise. “I thought you said you and the city didn’t mix.”

  Fuck.

  “I live in the mountains, not under a rock,” Shane joked, trying to keep his own smile in place. He felt it slipping, despite the effort. “Everyone around here has heard of Butcher and Singer. Plus, I told you, we mechanics do eat from time to time.”

  What was it about her that made him open his mouth without thinking? He cursed silently and took a huge bite of his sandwich as if to prove his point.

  “Wow. Guess you don’t go halfway, then.” She took a bite of her own before finishing her thought. “And I prefer a nice pinot noir with steak. It enhances the flavors really well.”

  They ate the rest of their lunch without saying much, the quiet around them punctuated only by the snapping wind outside. When there was nothing left but crumbs and apple cores, Bellamy gathered the trash and tossed it into the wastebasket.

  “Thanks for lunch. I guess I owe you one.”

  Shane shifted where he stood, still wearing a thin layer of unease. “Don’t worry about it.”

  She rocked back on her heels, looking at him with a wide-open, easy expression. “So, what do we do now?”

  “There’s not much by way of entertainment around here,” he apologized, following her gaze around the garage.

  “You were working on your car when I got here, right? Is there something wrong with it that you need to fix?” Bellamy peered at the Mustang. Wait, was that a flicker of interest on her face?

  Weird.

  “No. Think of it like being in front of a pantry full of your favorite foods. I just tinker, kind of play around with it, that sort of thing.”

  A spark lit her features. “Really?”

  Shane’s gut stirred. “Sure. There’s always something I can fine-tune; plus, it chills me out to work on it, you know? It’s just relaxing.”

  Her laugh sent a straight shot of sexy and sweet right down his spine. “Like making pie crust,” she said. “You want to show me?”

  What. The. Hell. No girl in the history of the XX chromosome had ever even had so much as a passing interest in his absolute love for cars. “Are you serious?” Shane blinked a couple of times to make sure he was awake and not stuck in some odd dream.

  Bellamy chewed her lip and fastened him with a hesitant look. “You don’t have to, if it’ll be a pain. I mean, I don’t know a thing about cars.”

  A grin spread over his face, slow and sure as a sunrise, as he walked her over to the Mustang and popped the hood. “Well, you’re in luck. I happen to know a thing or two, and I’m all about sharing the joy.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Truth?” Bellamy cranked her brow at the sight of the shiny, intricate metal guts under the hood of Shane’s car.

  Shane stood so close she could feel the heat of his body next to hers, which did nothing to help her concentrate. “Of course.”

  “I have no idea what I’m looking at.”

  The smile that broke over his face swirled around in her belly like she’d swallowed it. “It’s a 1969 Mustang Mach 1.” His eyes followed the lines of the car.

  It didn’t take a math wizard to know that those numbers didn’t exactly add up to what sat before them. “But these parts look really new,” Bellamy said, peering at the inner workings of the car.

  Shane chuckled as if he was thinking of an inside joke. “They are. The engine is a 428 Cobra Jet. I put it in almost three years ago.” He pointed to the pristine engine. It looked like it had just come off the factory line.

  Bellamy frowned. “Why go through the trouble of replacing something as big-deal as the engine? When the engine on Holly’s Jetta blew up last year, the mechanic told her to cut her losses and get a new car.”

  “I didn’t replace the old one because it didn’t work. I replaced it because this one is faster.” The edges of his lips turned up into a half smile that Bellamy would bet good money he couldn’t control.

  Oh, the testosterone of it all. “How fast are we talking, exactly?”

  The half smile became a full-blown stunner, and the sexy, badass grin on Shane’s face kicked her pulse into oh-yeah mode. “The car’s got over five hundred horsepower.”

  “English, please,” she said, tilting her head over her shoulder to look at him.

  He stepped in close, wrapping an arm around her waist and gently pressing her against the car with his body from behind. “It’ll go zero to sixty in the time it takes you to say your name and phone number. How’s that?”

  Good. That’s so freaking good.

  “Better,” she breathed.

  Shane leaned into her, his palm firm on her hip, and gestured into the car with his free hand. “So, when you change out the engine like that, you have to make other adjustments, too. To make sure you get the kind of performance you’re after.” He pointed out where the transmission was, and gave her a very basic idea of how everything worked. The intricacies were definitely lost on her, but by the time he was done, she had a pretty simple understanding of where everything was and how it all went together. More importantly, Bellamy had picked up on something about Shane that was ironclad.

  He might be hot for her, but he was in love with the car.

  “So, how does a guy come across a 1969 Mustang Mach 1, anyway? It’s not like you can just pick one up at the dealership.” She looked at the gleaming components under the hood, trying to familiarize herself with the way each one went with the others.

  “Well, from the time I hit puberty, I knew I wanted one, so it was just a matter of time. I drove by her on the side of the road six years ago, with a big FOR SALE sign in the window. It was the fastest damn U-turn I’ve ever made.” Shane shook his head, chuckling, and Bellamy shifted the angle of her body so they were face-to-face. Something about his expression was so clean and real that she couldn’t make herself look anywhere else.

  He continued, clearly caught up in the memory. “I called the number on the sign and told the guy I’d wait right there for him to show up. Nothing like looking desperate right off the bat, right?” His soft laughter twined together with hers before he kept on. “The guy was hard-up to sell it, but not as hard-up as I was to have it. He gave me a good price because it needed a ton of work, but that was half the reason I wanted it. It wasn’t about having the car; it was about building the car.”

  The look on his face had Bellamy utterly magnetized, his stubbly jaw set in certainty. She smiled. “So you’ve always known how to work on cars, then?”

  “I’ve always loved them, yeah.” He nodded. “I taught myself some stuff along the way, but everything I really know about cars I learned from Grady. I never would’ve been able to do any of this without him, although he’ll tell you different.” The respect Shane felt for the man was obvious as he spoke.

  “He sounds like a great guy.”

  Shane’s dark eyes flared with sudden disquiet, but it didn’t carry over into his voice, gone as fast as it had appeared. “He is a great guy.” He took a step back to close the hood and the conversation, his expression inscrutable.

  Bellamy shivered, not from the cold so much as the absence of him close to her body. The look that had been on his face while he talked about the car lingered in her mind, and it sent prickles of something hot and familiar through her.

  She was turned on beyond repair, and she wanted to make love to him. Again.

  “Hey, you’re cold. Let me grab yo
ur coat. It gets pretty drafty in here.” He started to turn away, and in that moment, Bellamy made a choice that felt like a turning point.

  It was impulsive, yet she didn’t hesitate.

  She reached out, catching his forearm in the grasp of her fingers, not letting go. “I don’t want my coat.” Her voice was soft, at odds with the piercing stare between them as she moved in, placing herself so close to him that she could see the lean muscles in his jaw go tight with understanding.

  “You don’t,” he said, his eyes dipping to her lips, then back to meet her gaze. It wasn’t a question.

  Shane’s eyes hardened over her as she shook her head, her mouth pulling up into a slow smile. It might not make much sense, but there was something about the way he looked at her that made her positively hungry for him.

  “No. I want you.”

  He didn’t hesitate, either.

  They didn’t so much kiss as collide, their bodies and mouths coming together with an unnamed force Bellamy was powerless to resist. Their tongues rounded against one another, both seeking and finding. Delicious, promising heat pushed its way through Bellamy’s body to reach even the smallest places, instant arousal thrumming through her veins.

  Shane slipped his hands around her face, his roughly calloused fingers tracing a gentle sweep into her hair as his touch became slow and deliberate. “I want you, too.” His voice was a sexy rumble, low in his throat, as he drew his fingers down her neck to her chest, letting them rest on the soft cashmere between her breasts. “But this time I want you slow.”

  She almost came right then and there, just from the promise on his lips.

  “Oh, God.” Bellamy stood on her toes to press into him, folding his hand between their bodies with the force of the upward lift. After a searing kiss, she turned to fumble for the door handle on the car.

  “No.” He pulled back and captured her hand with a look of controlled hunger, so smoldering that it was palpable. “I have something else in mind this time.” Stroking the neckline of her sweater, he followed the deep V to the heartbeat hammering in her chest. “Is that okay with you?”

  The memory of being filled to the hilt in his lap took her senses by storm, building the twinge between her legs to a demanding ache. “I’m kind of partial to the backseat of your car.” Her voice came out with a seductive edge, and Shane stiffened under her hands at the inflection.

  Turnabout and fair play had never felt so sinful or so good.

  “This will be even better.” The timbre of his words dared her as his hands moved in twin strokes down her rib cage to the edge of her sweater. Her nipples tingled, tight with the anticipation of his touch. “Trust me.”

  Shane turned and walked to the workbench, grabbing the blanket he’d retrieved from his truck. Instead of returning to where Bellamy stood, he went toward the office, stopping just short of the door frame at a panel of light switches on the wall. With a flick of his wrist, the overhead light disappeared, leaving them bathed in the low shadows of the swirling wind outside. The faint glow of the building’s exterior lights strained to shine in through the snowfall, casting a muted gold among the shadows.

  It only took a handful of paces before Shane was next to her again, the scent of fresh cedar and pines filling her with recognition and need. He shook out the blanket to spread it on the ground next to the car, then returned his attention to Bellamy by slipping his arms around her where she stood. His touch was electric, even over the fabric between them, and she couldn’t help the sigh that spilled from her.

  “You feel so good,” she murmured, shocked to find it had been out loud. Her cheeks flushed and she squeezed her eyes shut, embarrassed as hell that the words had flown right out. Thinking about how hot he made her was one thing. Telling him, right out loud, was quite another.

  Shane drew back to catch her expression in the shadows. He brought his lips to her ear, kissing the soft spot behind it before leaving a whisper in its place. “You shouldn’t hold back.” His hands slid under her sweater, teasing the skin there. “You’re so beautiful when you let go.”

  Heat pooled low in Bellamy’s hips, every inch of her hypnotized by the throaty cadence of Shane’s voice. He lowered his mouth to hers in a tender sweep, his lips brushing against hers just enough to create soft friction. Shane parted from her only to kneel over the blanket. As she followed, he wrapped his arms around her to settle her body right in the center before flipping the outer edge to cocoon them both.

  His mouth was slow and sweet on hers, each kiss driving straight through her as he settled his weight gently over her body. His fingers skimmed the column of her neck, the skin over her collarbone, making her desperate to have him. Bellamy reached between them to raise her sweater over her head, then slipped her hands low against his body for the edge of his shirt.

  Shane caught her fingers, murmuring into her neck. “That’s not slow.”

  God, she was going to die if she didn’t feel him on her, skin on skin, heat on heat. “I . . . I . . .”

  “Tell me what you want, Bellamy.”

  Desire shot right to her core at the sound of his words, and she arched toward him, searching. Detailed images of all the steamy, provocative things she wanted him to do flashed through her mind, hitching her breath in her lungs and her words in her throat. She could call it like she saw it all day long, but this took speaking her mind to a totally uncharted level. She couldn’t possibly say those things, could she?

  “Tell me what you want.” Shane’s hands moved down her bare shoulders, stopping on the thin straps of her bra, both his movements and his words prompting her with the promise of their heat. She buried her hands in his hair as his kisses followed the path of his hands, resting over the top of one breast, then the other, with a feather-soft touch of his lips. “Trust me.”

  “I want to feel you,” she blurted, her cheeks tingling at the words. “I want to feel your skin on mine.”

  A wicked stare glittered through his eyes as he looked up at her with a dark, seductive smile. Without a word, he shifted from her body to strip off his shirt, revealing the lean, corded muscles in his chest. Bellamy reached up to gather him in as he lowered himself back to her, and the sheer electricity of his skin on hers made her bite back a moan.

  “I meant it when I said you shouldn’t hold back.” Shane’s hands brushed over the very tips of her breasts, his palms finding their weight with a gentle caress.

  “Don’t stop,” she rasped, rising into his hands and fitting herself against the hard length between his hips. In one smooth motion, he pushed the straps from her shoulders, freeing her from the lace. With an excruciating tenderness, his fingers turned slow circles around her nipples, and she lifted even farther into the touch. When he followed with his tongue, Bellamy didn’t hold back the groan it brought forth.

  If she was going to get what she wanted, then so was he, pretenses be damned.

  “Touch me. Please.” She gave in to the words swirling through her head, letting them tumble out unbidden.

  Shane’s hand traveled over her belly to the seam of her body, his fingers cupping her sex in a lazy stroke that made her draw her bottom lip between her teeth.

  “I want to touch you all night, just like this.”

  Oh, God, Bellamy wasn’t going to last ten seconds with his hands on her, let alone all night. She writhed under the slow lift of his fingers, and he coaxed another groan from her with a deliberate touch.

  “More. Take them off.” The whisper came up from her throat, heady and thrilling as she spoke it. Shane’s eyes flew to hers, shining with want and raw sexual heat. He had the button on her jeans undone before she could fully register his movement, drawing the zipper down to bare the swell of her hips and her satin panties underneath. Shane undressed her with care, then took off his jeans and settled over her, brushing her hair from her shoulders.

  “Bellamy.” He breathed her name into her skin as he kissed her again and again, his sex hardening even more over her satin-covered folds
. She reached down between them, riding his cock with her hand, and he hissed out a breath against her. “Bellamy.”

  Something about his voice murmuring her name pushed her harder, and she returned the favor of the lazy strokes that had sent her so close to the edge. His hand wrapped around hers with a groan, joining it in the motion for just a moment before guiding her away.

  “What’s wrong?” Bellamy’s pulse ricocheted through her veins before it froze.

  Shane shook his head and kissed her. “Nothing. You’re a little too right, that’s all.” He arched a mischievous brow.

  Bellamy flushed, but the implication turned her on just as much as his touch. “Really?” She teased a hand around the waistband of his boxers, hooking her thumb under the elastic.

  He gave her a dark look and a smile so slow and provocative, she had to suck in a breath. “Mmm.” His fingers delved between her legs to her inner thigh, stroking the edge of her panties. “So right.”

  Bellamy’s knees listed open, screaming for his touch, and he didn’t disappoint. He slipped a finger inside her heat, drawing tight circles against her with his thumb.

  “Yes. Oh God, yes.” She had no idea who was in control of the totally wanton voice that came out of her, but as her muscles squeezed around a sweet crest of release, she didn’t care. Shane’s finger was joined by another, and the steady, slow rhythm sent sparks through her brain. Words tried to form and fight their way from her, but the only thing that made it past her lips was the heavy cry of the orgasm that crashed into her.

  “You are perfect when you come undone.” Bellamy’s eyes fluttered open to reveal Shane’s unwavering gaze upon her face. Never before had anyone actually watched her come, and while a tiny, faraway piece of her consciousness told her she should be embarrassed, she wasn’t.

  She trusted him.

  “Shane.” She ran her palms over the scattering of dark hair on his chest, enjoying the shudder it brought from him as she skimmed over his nipples. When her hands reached his shoulders, she guided him over her and lifted her lips to his ear. “I want you inside me.” She arched her core to meet his erection, the cotton of his boxers giving just enough resistance against her to tempt her to scream, but she held steady. With one swift yank, the fabric between them was history.