Page 1 of The Mechanic's Virgin

1

NASH

I’mwrist-deep into a Ford V8 engine when I hear the low rumble of an expensive car pull into my lot. Not the usual kind of expensive, like some rich new-money prick with a Porsche turbo or a blacked-out Range Rover to inflate his sense of masculinity. No, this is old money. The kind that purrs with confidence to let the rest of the world know just how high above the rest of us they truly are.

I wipe the grease from my hands and lift my head out from under the hood, and–

“Jesus fucking Christ…”

The most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen steps out of a vintage Rolls Royce like she’s stepping out of a dream made just for me. Long, pristine legs and curves that rival the ones on her quarter-million-dollar car. She’s got a face like a porcelain doll, and based on her expression, I’d say it’s never been handled. Not even once.

Especially not by a man like me…

She couldn’t look more out of place in my oil-stained, sunbaked corner of town if she tried. She must have lost her way. No chance she came here on her own.

For a second, I wonder if I’m hallucinating. Too many late nights at the garage and sleeping by the fan may have finally melted my brain.

But then she shuts the driver’s side door and looks at me with big, wide eyes, her lips parted and pink. So juicy. And a breeze blows in from outside, filling my nose with a subtle hint of whatever perfume she’s wearing today.

“Damn, nowthere’sa smokeshow I’d love to get a taste of,” Reggie smirks from behind me. Reggie’s just here for the day to help out, but as he nods at the girl and grabs his crotch like an animal, a jealous rage shoots through me. I snap my fingers at him.

“You can go.”

He frowns. “Say what?”

“You heard me,” I snap. “Get lost. We don’t need you here anymore today.”

Reggie looks back, confused, but he knows better than to argue with me. He grabs his tools and exits out the side door.

I glance back at the beauty in front of me. She looks like she just stepped out of a modeling agency. My jealous rage rises as I think about how many other men may have seen her social media photos and how turned on they got.

As our eyes meet, I feel a cold chill of adrenaline flow through my veins. It’s like I’ve been hit by an electric shock. My blood rushes to my cock and I clench my fist to try and keep myself under control.

“Um, hello,” she says tentatively, her voice soft as the silk lingerie I’m already picturing decorating her perfect body. “I think there’s something wrong with my car. I was driving and it started making this really awful noise–”

“What’s your name, princess?”

That’s what she looks like. A princess.

I throw my rag over my shoulder and take slow, deliberate steps toward her. And she doesn’t back away.

Her chest rises, and her lashes flutter. “Grace.”

Of course it is. A perfect name for someone so perfect–so sweet and pure. I shouldn’t be thinking these terrible thoughts about her. She’s so tender and innocent, yet my mind is racing like a horny teenager’s, thinking about all the filthy things I want to do to her.

I stop just short of her and lean one hand on the side of her Rolls. “I’m Nash. This isyourride?”

She lets out a nervous giggle, sending a tingling sensation through my chest. “In a way. It belonged to my grandma. I’m just…keeping it going. Until now, I guess.”

“Well, it’s not dead yet,” I assure her. “You’d be surprised what I can do with these hands.”

I hold up my callused, oil-stained palms as the innuendo hangs thick between us like the heat radiating off her car’s hot engine. Her cheeks go pink, causing me to light up inside. Fuck, she’s adorable.

“Are you local?” I ask.

She chews her bottom lip nervously. “I live about fifteen minutes outside town.”

This is dangerous information to just give out to any man. Can it be that she’s too naïve to know that every man she passes in the world has the same thoughts about her–that they all want her like a lion wants a zebra?

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