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“You’re not done,” I rasp into her neck, chasing her pleasure mercilessly.

She meets my gaze. “Then don’t stop.”

That’s all it takes. We tumble over the edge again together, mouths colliding and hearts racing. Lena grips me tightly, shattering every last bit of self-control as I come with a guttural groan.

When reality eventually returns, we’re a tangled mess of sweaty limbs and racing heartbeats. Her fingertips trace lazy circles down my back, easing the marks she left there.

“So, about that talk?”

I lift my head, a lazy grin forming as I press a lingering kiss against her swollen mouth. “Later. I’d say this was more productive.”

She laughs gently, and something warm unfurls inside my chest.

For now, the chaos quiets.

For now, words can wait.

Forty-Two

Iunlock the shop door, and the familiar chime overhead announces my arrival like a sarcastic reminder that my life isn’t as normal as I pretend it is. Usually, stepping into this place helps. The sharp scent of oil, grease, and metal grounds me and pulls me back from whatever ledge I’ve been pacing.

But today, my mind’s stuck on repeat, fixated on Lena in my bed. How soft she looked this morning, tangled in my sheets with her hair spread out across the pillow. How she rolled over, murmuring something unclear before sinking deeper into sleep. She was so comfortable, so natural, and it scared the absolute shit out of me.

I drag a rough hand through my hair and shake my head, attempting to clear the image from my mind.

Work. Tools. Routine. That’s my life. Stick to it.

But the crunch of tires outside kills that brief illusion of control. Truck doors slam, and the voices approaching aren’t subtle.

Ryan barrels through, grinning like he’s solved somegreat mystery. “You fucked the nanny.”

I freeze mid-step, keys dangling uselessly from my fingers.

Kate strolls in behind him and tosses her bag onto the bench. “I specifically told him not to open with that.”

Usually, my glare sends people scrambling.

Not Ryan.

Kate raises her palms. “In my defense, Wes, you showed up at my house at one in the morning on Friday with Lena. You both looked flushed as shit. You two had either just had sex or were about to.”

I toss my keys onto the counter with a sigh and rub the tension at the back of my neck. They know. Of course they fucking know.

Ryan elbows Kate. “See? Told you.”

She lifts her shoulders with an unapologetic shrug. “No judgment here. You might still be wound tight, but you’re less broody these days. Even approachable.”

“I’m not talking about—” I start, but Kate waves me off.

“You spent months glaring at me. I know the difference.”

I let out a low growl of annoyance, refusing to engage as I move toward the workbench.

“Ah,” she says knowingly. “There’s classic Wes. Silent panic.”

Ryan leans against the counter, folding his arms across his chest with a seriousness that doesn’t fit him. “Listen, boss, whatever this is, don’t screw it up. You deserve to be happy.”

I don’t respond. Instead, I grab a wrench and lean over the half-built engine, pretending bolts and parts hold more interest than Lena’s breathy laugh when Ikissed her against the wall last night. Pretending my heart doesn’t jolt every time I think about her waking up in my house, wearing my shirt like it’s the most normal thing in the world.