“That sounds amazing, but not yet. Let me up?”
He peels away, our skin sticky. His hands hover over me as I stand, the large t-shirt falling down to cover me. Reaching overhead, I draw in a deep breath while stretching and focus on the energy moving through my body while he tugs his jeans back up his hips. I go through a couple other poses to get my blood flowing that leave me with only the delicious lingering aches of sex.
The first two times I saw the garage, we didn’t stay long. Curiosity has me exploring, wanting to know more about Fox through the things he loves.
First I touch the motorcycle, finding the ding in the chrome. The memory filters through my head, making me smile as I think of his face when he sought me out to hide him before his dad killed him for the damage. We spent hours hidden away in my room watching cartoons. While I look around, he studies me, thumbs hooked in his jeans. I get distracted for a moment, admiring the hard planes of his sculpted body glistening with sweat.
“What?”
“Nothing, just admiring the excellent view,” I sass.
He snorts, ruffling his dark tousled hair so it ends up even messier.
Biting my lip around a secret smile, I turn toward the workbench. Half-finished projects and his tools cover the surface, along with the piece he was working with when I came downstairs. I touch it, feeling the cool metal and trace the curve he’s twisted it into.
“What are you making?”
“Not sure yet. I don’t always have a plan when I’m making something. I usually just go with it until it feels done.”
Thinking of the equally scrappy furniture pieces in his apartment, I glance over my shoulder. “Did you make the stuff upstairs too?” He nods. A soft smile tugs at my lips. “I like it. It’s amazing that you can make something with your own hands. Your stuff has so much character. It’s like I can feel you in them.”
The compliment makes his handsome features morph into a perplexed expression. I don’t think he thinks about sharing it with others. Warmth expands in my chest because he’s sharing it with me.
“I remember how much you liked working on cars and learning about the mechanics, but this stuff is cool. How did you get into doing it?”
Coming around the Charger, he backs me against the workbench, bracing his hands on the edge. I take advantage of his proximity to trace his abs, grinning when his stomach twitches. Still ticklish. I file that away.
“It’s mostly a hobby now. Something to keep my mind busy when it’s too loud. I like working with my hands and tinkering with shit until it shapes into something. Sometimes it’s useful, like the coffee table, and others it just is what it is.” His gaze turns distant for a moment and he holds my hips, tugging me against his body like he needs me close enough to climb into his heart. “At first it was a habit I needed to survive. Once I went into the system, I wasn’t used to having a lot.”
I swallow at the melancholy in his tone, winding my arms around him to give him a hug. Resting my chin on his tattooed chest, I peer up at him while he tells me the story.
“Nothing belonged to you. That’s the first thing you learn. It eats away at the hope most of those kids have that they’ll find some damn stability in whatever home they’re shoved into. But I already had everything ripped away from me, so it wasn’t new.” He sighs, rubbing my back like he needs to comfort me instead of the other way around. He laughs. “After I started living with my foster family in Thorne Point, Colt’s mom
caught me messing around with scrap metal from a junkyard on the outskirts of the city and tried to put my pieces in an avant garde art show. Eventually I stopped doing it because I had to, and kept at it more because I wanted to. I enjoy it.”
“I’m glad,” I murmur.
The smile he gives me makes my heart stop. I love the curve of it and I give him one of my own as I reach up to trace it.
When his lips connect with mine, I forget everything for a little while, existing where it’s just the two of us without any of the pain of our past tarnishing this moment.
Twenty-Six
Fox
After making good on my offer to carry her upstairs, we cleaned up in the shower together. She protested that she could still walk, but a primal part of my brain needed to take care of her after she let me fuck her so roughly. I lose myself in running soapy hands over every inch of her body and massage her skin until she melts into me. My cock is ready for another round, but we have time.
“Stay in as long as you want. I have to call Colt to check in. I’ll get him to mask your cell signal so your parents can’t use it to find us.”
She murmurs an agreement and I drop a quick kiss on her forehead before getting out.
“Let’s go through the journals first, then we’ll check the flash drive you brought,” I tell her on my way out of the bathroom.
“Okay.”
There’s a part of me that wants to get back in under the hot spray of water with her. The part where she’s entwined into my soul, tattooed on my heart. It takes effort, but I manage to force my feet to cross the room, discarding the towel around my waist to tug on a worn pair of jeans with rips in the knees.
Moving to the couch, I open the laptop and call Colton, setting my phone to speaker so I can work handsfree. I pull up the screenshots I took of the shady place we found Jacqueline at yesterday.