Today, we’re going to be all business, no play. At least, that’s what I tell myself in the bedroom mirror as I get dressed—making sure not to make the same mistake I did yesterday with the tight jeans and the see-through shirt. I wear the baggiest clothes I can find today. A pair of old boyfriend jeans I stole from a brief fling I had, and a T-shirt I’d normally only wear to sleep in because it’s so oversized. You can’t see my curves underneath it. You can’t see anything, in fact, except the band logo across the from.
Perfect.
Then I pull my hair up into a ponytail, add only the bare minimum of makeup—foundation and a little gloss, nothing more—and that’s that. Non-sexy-chic.
I head into the garage right on time, and find the main garage door already open, as if waiting for me. I step under it nervously, and the second my eyes land on Antonio, I freeze.
He’s wearing the same thing as yesterday. A tank top with jeans, both already streaked in grease. He’s working on another car, not Betty, and for a second, as he’s bent over with his head inside the hood, he doesn’t seem to notice me.
So I let myself look. Appreciate. Just for a second. Because that ass is almost never in such a prime viewing position, and I’m only human, after all. But after a moment, some of the grime in the garage tickles my nose, and I sneeze.
Antonio straightens and glances over his shoulder, wiping greasy palms against his jeans. “Welcome back.” He smiles, big and broad.
Something about that smile tugs at my heartstrings. It looks so earnest. I hate to crush it. But I have to. “Yeah, well. Sort of a court-mandated punishment, and all that.” I shrug my shoulders, without smiling. “Have to be here.”
His smile slips a little at the edges, but then he redoubles it with a shrug. “Come on. I’ve got the tools all lined up.”
I trail after him toward Betty, making sure to keep a few paces behind him. “If we’re just working on the dents like we started last night, I can handle it. I don’t want to keep you from your other projects.”
His step falters. He turns around, giving me a strange look. For the first time, his gaze wanders over me, and I watch him notice the baggy shirt, the new jeans. He lifts an eyebrow. “You actually dressed appropriately today.”
I shrug, and tug at the hem with both hands. A part of me wishes I hadn’t. A part of me wishes we could just pick up right where we left off yesterday, with his hands all over me, turning me into putty in his grip. But I know better than that. I need to be smarter. Keep my distance. “Yes, well, I realized yesterday was… inappropriate.”
His smile quirks up around the edges. “Is that what the kids are calling it these days?”
My cheeks flush. “We shouldn’t have…” I shake my head. “Never mind. Look, just give me the tools to work on the car door, and you can go back to your own work.”
He tilts his head, his eyes narrowing. “You really think I’d trust you unsupervised and alone with Betty?” He smirks. “We all saw what happened the last time I did that.”
I cross my arms. “I know better now. You taught me a lot yesterday.”
“Oh really.” He takes a step closer, and I inhale sharply, panicking. I catch the scent of his cologne, the same scent that enveloped yesterday when he had me pinned against the car. It makes my body itch against my will, a throb starting up between my legs, as my pussy tightens at the memory of his cock inside me.
He was so thick, so fucking filling. I ached for hours afterward. Even this morning when I was taking a shower, I could still feel a dull throb there, the echo of the memory of him. And it only makes me want more. I want him again, taking control of me the way he did yesterday. Drawing pleasure out of me the same way he works his magic on the cars in this garage.
I bite my lower lip, and I can’t help but notice the way his gaze tracks the movement, heat flaring in his eyes.
“What else did I teach you yesterday?” he asks, his voice lower now. Almost soft. Except I can recognize the desire he’s suppressing under it now, the want, the lust that shows hot in his gaze.
I swallow around a thick lump in my throat, and then, with all the willpower remaining in my body, I brush past him casually, toward the car. “A lot of things. How to install a new pane of glass in a car window. How to reattach the body of the interior of a door once you’ve finished installing said pane of glass.” To demonstrate, I rap on Betty’s new window, the one we finished putting in together last night, after we cleaned up from our mess—well, and after we got a little messy all over again in the small shower that’s attached to the garage workroom.