Chapter 15: The Garage

Betsy's POV

The garage was empty when we got there, and the bay doors were shut.

Dread had sent his mechanics to lunch with a text and a look I couldn't read.

The air smelled of oil and cold metal.

A single work light burned over the long steel bench at the back.

He locked the side door behind us and stood with his back against it.

I walked to the middle of the floor and stopped.

My whole body was still humming from Clint's voice, from the weight of his hand on my cheek.

"He touched my face," I said.

"I heard."

"I want it gone."

"Tell me what to do."

"Nothing." I turned around. "You don't do anything. Not yet."

His eyes went very dark.

He stayed where he was, with his arms at his sides, and I understood that he was letting me.

I crossed the floor.

I put both hands flat on his chest, over the leather.

His heart was going hard under my palms.

"Thirty days," he said, low. "I've broken it twice."

"Three times. You said it at the counter."

"That one doesn't count."

"It counts."

I pushed the vest off his shoulders and it fell to the concrete with a heavy sound.

His shirt came next. I dragged it up over his head and dropped it behind me.

He stood there bare to the waist, with the white scars and the red scrape drying down his left side.

I put my mouth on his chest.

He made a sound I had never heard from a man.

His hands came up and stopped in the air on either side of my head.

"Betsy."

"Keep them there."

"I can't."

"You can for a minute."

I kissed down the middle of him, slowly, over the ridges of his stomach, and his hands closed into fists in the air.

I got to the buckle of his belt and looked up.

His jaw was locked, and his chest was heaving, and he was watching me.

"Tell me you want it," I said.

"I want it."

"Say it properly."

"I want your mouth on my cock, Betsy. I've wanted it since you put your hand on my back and wouldn't take it off."

I undid the belt.

I undid the button, and the zipper, and I took him out in my hand.

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