Page 23 of Falling for the Mechanic
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.Literallybreathtaking.
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 nervesare 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.
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Epilogue
