Page 74 of The Body Checker

“Popping the hood,” I say quickly, and try not to think of sex. Dirty sex. Take-me-up-against-the-wall kind of sex. Not that I know anything about that. Sadly.

His laugh is rough and deep as he walks around to the front of the car, and I unbuckle quickly. My legs wobble as I climb out of the driver’s seat and follow him. He’s grinning when I reach him.

“What?” I ask, my voice raspy.

He touches my cracked windshield washer cap, which I happened to repair all by myself. “Duct tape?” he asks, his voice amused.

“Tools of the trade, right,” I say and try not to sound as breathless as I feel. A difficult task considering I’m standing next to a half-naked man that I want to run my hands all over. I mean I’ve seen shirtless guys before, but come on. This guy is like a freaking viking. He leans forward to fiddle with something, and the movement shows off impressive bicep muscles. I break a sweat as his closeness sends shudders of need between my thighs. Honest to God, the man is a work of art, and all I can think of is no-strings sex—something I’ve never done before. But that’s crazy and reckless and so not me. Truthfully, if I knew what was good for me, I’d slam the hood shut and run in the opposite direction.

I’m about to do just that when he says, “Uh, huh.”

“Is…is there something wrong?” Is that my voice? Christ, I sound like I’m whacked out on painkillers.

For God’s sake, get it together, girl.

He rubs the scruff on his chin, and I step back, needing a measure of distance before I actually reach out and run my hands over all his hard grooves and deep valleys.

“Plenty,” he says again and checks something else. I have no clue what he’s doing. I only know that he looks as hot as hell doing it. As he leans over my car, my gaze slides to his ass, committing the way his pants cup his cheeks to memory. The guy could be in a jeans commercial, or better yet, a Calvin Klein underwear ad. I’m a girl, but advertising like that would have me one-clicking the buy button.

My heart hammers as he stands again. He turns toward me, but I’m far too slow to react. His eyes are piercing, almost a deeper shade of blue when my gaze jerks to his, and I can’t tell whether he’s thrilled or pissed to find me checking him out.

I step closer and look over the engine. “So, what is it?” I ask, disgusted with myself. I should not be fantasizing over this man.

He clears his throat. “I think the first thing we need to do is replace the spark plugs,” he answers, his voice a little hoarse.

“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking,” I say, my head bobbing in agreement.

That grin is back when I look at him. “You know something about cars?”

I shrug. “Sure…and duck tape.”

He laughs and says, “It’s not…” he shakes his head. “Never mind. So, you agree then, that something’s not firing right?”

Firing? Oh, things were firing all right, and lighting up my body like a goddamn Fourth of July celebration.

Damn him.

Damn Mother Nature.

Damn dim-witted moths.

***

Jaxon:

I grab the rag from my back pocket and swipe a bead of moisture from my forehead, as the girl from the upstairs bedroom stands next to me, looking so goddamn hot in her tight AC/DC t-shirt and ripped jean shorts that her car isn’t the only thing close to overheating. If I didn’t love the band before, I sure as hell would now.

She might have lived next to me for two months, and numerous times I’ve glimpsed her moving around her bedroom with little to nothing on, but this is the first time I’ve been so close to her—and it’s making it a little fucking hard to breathe.

Talk about fueling all my college girl fantasies.

Not only is she gorgeous, everything about her, from the swell of her cleavage, her barely-there curves, to legs that go on for miles, reminds me it’s been a long-ass time since I’ve had a woman in my bed. It’s not that women are on my do without list, which is sizable now that I’m the sole caregiver to a five-year-old girl. It’s just that after working all day and being a full-time single parent at night, it leaves little time for anything else. That, and I have to be very careful who I let into my daughter’s life. No way will I ever let anyone hurt her again.

My sexy neighbor bends over the hood to examine the car again, and my cock twitches—very well aware of how long it’s been since it’s been touched, too. I try not to chuckle as she tugs on some wires, acting like she knows what she’s doing. A moment later, she stands and shifts from one foot to another, her nervous gaze darting from me, to the cars passing by, back to the engine.

“Will it take long?” she asks, as I resist the urge to adjust my thickening cock.

Probably not.

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