Page 11 of Falling for the Mechanic

Chelsea

The world has narrowed to nothing but pure, white-hot sensation. Everything else—the mountain, the truck, the distant view—has simply ceased to exist. There is only the feel of his strong hands gripping my thighs, holding me open for him, and the devastating, perfect pressure of his mouth on me.

Oh my. Oh my God.

My head falls back and my elbow hits the center console, but I hardly notice the tingle that shoots up my arm.

A broken moan tears from my throat as his tongue finds a rhythm that threatens to cause my pleasure to crash over my limit.

My fingers fist in his hair, not to push him away, but to hold him in place so this won’t ever end.

I’ve never felt anything like this. Not even close. It’s like every nerve ending in my body has gathered right where his mouth is working, building a pressure so intense, I think I might simply fall apart into a thousand pieces.

Will he be there to pick them up once he causes such damage?

Each flick of his tongue tells me that’s his goal, each soft suck a tremor that rocks through my entire being.

Thank goodness no one can see us, because I have no control over the sounds he’s pulling from me. Moans roll off my tongue, breathy and constant. I’m babbling his name, like it’s the only word I know.

“Cameron…please…”

I don’t even know what I’m begging for. More? Release? I just know that I’m completely at his mercy, lost in a current of feeling so powerful it steals my breath and my thoughts.

If this is what it means to be devoured, then I am willingly, happily, letting him consume me whole.

Cameron doesn’t pull back until his jaw is slick, and I’m clinging onto thin strings. Like he’s in a daze, he licks my juices from his lips and hums in satisfaction like I’m the best thing that’s touched his taste buds.

He stands suddenly, the movement a blur as he reaches for me. One hand cups the back of my neck, dragging my mouth to his in a searing, possessive kiss.

I taste myself on his tongue and experience a full-body shiver, the pulse between my thighs a heavy, aching weight. I want to reach down and finish what he started, my fingers itching with the need.

But then, as he’s kissing me, his hands abandon my face to work at the button of his jeans.

“I want you so bad,” he growls against my mouth, the words ragged and raw with a desperation I’ve never seen in a man.

He pulls back just enough to shove his jeans and boxers down his hips. His cock springs free, all swollen and slick at the tip. He doesn’t give me long to look, to process. He’s pressing the thick head against my opening, a groan tearing from his chest.

“Soaked,” he rasps, his voice full of awe. “So soft for me.” He looks up, his eyes burning into mine. “Can you take me, Chelsea?”

All I can do is nod, my body singing in delight when a triumphant smile spreads across his face.

Then he pushes into me with one solid, breathtaking thrust. Literally breathtaking.

It takes him bottoming out, and my sharp, startled gasp echoing in the mountain air, for him to realize what just happened. He freezes, his entire body going rigid.

In an out-of-breath rasp, I correct myself. “Not…not all at once.” A weak, breathless laugh escapes me. “I’m not an overachiever.”

“You’re a virgin.” Stating the words, the haze starts to clear. “Fuck, I didn’t know. You’re just…You’re gorgeous, Chelsea.” He doesn’t dare move even when he groans as I squeeze around him. “Are you alright?”

He’s squeezing my thigh, his grip almost fearful, and I can feel the weight of his unspoken apology through his fingertips.

The initial, sharp pain was a surprise, sure, but it’s already fading, replaced by a deep, throbbing fullness that grows more intense with each passing second I’m stretched around him.

He’s the one who looks like he’s in agony, holding himself perfectly still.

A slow smile touches my lips. He’s asking if I’m okay, when he’s the one trembling with the effort of not moving.

I reach up, my fingers tracing the tense line of his jaw. “Don’t ask,” I whisper, my voice gaining strength. My hips shift experimentally, a tiny, tentative movement that makes us both gasp. “Just…do it.”

My quiet amusement melts instantly into pure, blinding pleasure as he finally, carefully, begins to move. All of my nerves are standing on their edge, and every pluck and pull is felt where it matters.

The sensation is deeper now, stronger, the initial sting completely forgotten. In and out, a slow, devastating rhythm that steals the air from my lungs. Our breathing picks up, becoming ragged and shared, the only sound besides the rustle of leaves and the creak of the truck.

He was worried about hurting me. But all I can feel is how perfectly we fit, how every thrust seems to erase another piece of the world outside this moment, until there’s nothing left but him.

His control begins to fray. The careful, measured pace fractures into something more urgent, more primal.

A fine sheen of sweat glistens on his brow, and I can feel it on my own skin, our bodies sliding together, slick and desperate.

My nails dig into the hard muscles of his back, urging him on, my own hips rising to meet his every movement.

The coil of pleasure tightening low in my belly is unbearable, winding tighter and tighter with every deep, driving stroke.

I can feel my own release building, a tidal wave gathering force, and I know he’s right there with me.

His eyes are screwed shut, his jaw clenched, his entire body a rigid bowstring of pleasure and restraint.

“Cameron,” I cry out, his name rolling off my tongue.

It’s his undoing. The last nail in the coffin.

With a guttural groan that seems ripped from his soul, he drives into me one last time, and I fall apart.

My world whites out, fracturing into a million points of light as the wave crashes over me, pulling me under in a current of pure ecstasy. I feel his pulse deep within me, his own release crashing over him, his body shuddering as he collapses against me, burying his face in the curve of my neck.

We stay like that for a long, breathless moment, leaning against the other for support, our hearts hammering against each other in a frantic, slowing rhythm. The air is thick with the scent of us, of pine, sweat, and serious bliss.

Slowly, carefully, he shifts his weight off me but doesn’t let go at first. He has to kiss my cheeks, my nose, and my fingertips before he takes a step back.

Adjusting himself, he helps me change back into my pants.

We can’t find my underwear, but after landing in the dirt, I think I’m alright with abandoning them.

I look out through the windshield at the sprawling view of Willowbrook Ridge below, the town that brought me to him. The future I was so afraid of doesn’t seem uncertain anymore. It feels like a promise.

We don’t need to figure out all the details of the future. First things first, a two-week notice. Then, how in the world I’m going to fit all my belongings into his home without his realizing that I’m a whole package.

After the last twenty-four hours, I’m sure he can handle whatever I throw his way.

* * *

Epilogue

The summer sun is warm through the open bay door of Steel Haven Auto, carrying the scent of cut grass and motor oil. My favorite combination.

I tap the final number into the spreadsheet and hit the save icon with a satisfied sigh.

From the other side of the garage, I can hear the familiar, comforting sounds of the shop—the whir of an impact wrench, the low hum of the radio, the deep, gravelly tone of my husband’s voice instructing his second new hire this season.

My husband. A year later, and the thought still sends a little thrill through me.

Like he can feel my eyes, his gaze immediately finds me behind the computer, and a mock scowl darkens his features, though the warmth in his eyes gives him away. He lasts all of three seconds before a smile takes over his face.

“You look entirely too happy staring at those numbers.” Coming around the desk to drop a kiss on the top of my head, I swear he sniffs my hair. Says I’m the best-smelling thing in here, so he’s just taking advantage. His hand rests on my shoulder, his thumb absently stroking my neck.

“Someone has to enjoy it,” I tease, leaning back into his touch. “Or all this profit might just disappear into the ‘miscellaneous’ column.”

He groans, his forehead falling against my temple. “Office work is going to be the death of me. I’d rather wrestle ten rusty mufflers than look at another invoice.”

Crazy to think how good business is going. Now that Cameron knows he has the power to be quite charming when he wants something to go his way, he’s been working on his people skills.

Nash had held to his word, signing the garage over to Cameron the day after he’d officially asked me to stay. For good.

The rumble of motorcycles cuts through the afternoon quiet, growing steadily louder. It’s a sound I’ve grown to love. Cameron straightens up, his smile faltering on his face as we both look toward the open door.

I think he still gets nervous by the presence of my brother. Took one comment of offering his home if I ever change my mind at my freaking wedding for him to be careful.

A moment later, three bikes roll into the lot, coming to a stop in a perfectly synchronized line. In the lead is my brother, Finn, looking every bit the part of a biker with his cut-off vest and worn-in boots. He kills the engine, and a wide grin forms on his face when he spots me.

“Chelsea,” he calls out, striding into the garage like he owns the place. The two other guys from his club follow, nodding respectfully at Cameron. “Brought you some more business. Mike’s got a clutch that’s slipping worse by the day.”

“Perfect timing.” Cameron clears his throat and jerks his chin toward his new hire. “Dale here says he knows a bike like the back of his hand. Now you can test him for me.”

The men behind my brother grin at the mention of fresh meat.

I can’t help but chuckle at their behavior. While I still don’t understand this whole motorcycle club thing he’s involved with, I’m glad to see my brother is no longer staying secluded in his parlor.

As the guys head toward the new mechanic Cameron hired specifically for bike work, Finn lingers. He looks around the bustling shop, at the two extra bays that are now constantly full, at the ‘Steel Haven Auto’ logo I had commissioned freshly painted on the wall.

“The place looks better each time I stop by,” he says, and I hear the genuine pride in his voice. “A real local hotspot.”

“Thanks to you,” I say, meaning it. Ever since Finn made it his mission to send every member with a mechanical issue our way, our bills are paid. His club isn’t just customers; they’re a built-in family who’ve adopted the shop as their own.

Finn shrugs, but he looks pleased. “Gotta look out for my little sister and her grumpy mechanic.”

Laughing at his tease, I pause when I notice a bandage on his arm. Immediately, my worries come in a wave as I try to get a closer look. Of course, he doesn’t let me. He never does. There’s no denying the bruising beneath.

“Don’t tell me you got hurt again.” I scold him with a huff. “What was it this time?”

Finn smiles like it’s nothing. “Just a small scrape. Don’t worry about it. Now, let me meet this fellow to make sure he’s trustworthy.”

He nods at Cameron before heading off to join his friends.

Cameron’s arm slides around my waist, pulling me close, and he reassures me that my brother is fine.. He smells like sunshine and hard work, and he’s easily pulled my attention right back to him.

He looks out at the lot, at the bikes and the cars waiting for service, at the business he built with his own two hands and now owns in full.

I lean into him, watching my brother laugh with his friends in the garage that became my home, held by the man who became my whole world. The spreadsheets can wait.

Right now, all I want to enjoy is the fact that we made it.