Page 12 of Dark Seduction

The two men remain silent, their gaze locked onto me as I accept the keys from Judge and bid them all a farewell. Neither one of them are going to let this go. That much is clear. And deep down, I’m not so sure I want them to, but I can't afford to dwell on that now. I need to focus on this new job, and on proving myself in this unfamiliar world.

I step into my Mustang and start the engine, the familiar rumble soothing my nerves. As I pull away from the garage and drive over to the building across the street, I can't resist sneaking a glance in the rearview mirror. V and Burnt are still there in the open bay door, watching me, their broad shoulders side by side. My cheeks flush with a mix of exhilaration and uncertainty as the memory of their faces from last night flashes through my mind.

For fuck’s sake. Finally, I’m starting a new chapter in my life. One that I’d planned for ages, and nowhere in any of my plans were there two gorgeous bikers that gave me the best sex I’ve ever had. There’s no room for that.

This is my livelihood. My chance to prove myself and be taken seriously. V and Burnt may fuck me better than anyone, but it won’t happen again. No, from now on, they are nothing more than co-workers. A strictly professional relationship. No sexy memories. No flirting. No glances.

Fucking hell. What have I gotten myself into?

V

For two weeks,I have had to try to ignore Mack's existence out of respect for her wishes to not jeopardize her job. Wishes I understand. It can’t be easy being a woman in a male dominated field. I’d seen some of the best mechanics around get driven out by the old boy’s club and their antiquated ideas of where a woman’s place is in their world. What you have between your legs should not be an indication of your job performance. The quality of your work should be good enough.

Yet, even in today’s world, a man can sleep with his secretary and be a fucking hero, but if I woman does it, she’s sleeping her way to the top. Even an inkling of a relationship with someone else in the shop, especially with my association with the club, could hurt her career. That’s the last thing I want, no matter how fucking hard it is to ignore what we’d shared together.

Ignoring her is like trying to ignore a bleeding bullet wound. I know she’s there. I know when she moves, when she walks by, thanks to her intoxicating fucking scent, and when she leaves. Torture in a fucking pair of coveralls and a paint mask. Her mere presence just a few feet away from my station has to be punishment for something I’ve done in my life. Wanting what I can have, yet the torture of seeing her every work day.

The only saving grace I’ve had is that my repair work had picked up, and she was busy with her own work. The first week, she’d mostly set up her station, thanks to Ronnie’s shitty organization skills, and prepped a few small projects she’d pulled in from local social media groups. By the second week, she had two clients lined up, and one car already in primer. Even some of our old clients have been sniffing around about her schedule. We need her to make this business work.

The downside? Watching Mack work is excruciating. I know the curves of her toned body from our night together, but seeing them work as she paints a ‘67 Corvette is different. Her laser focus on the task at hand is otherworldly. The second she pops in her ear buds and gets to work, it’s like watching a dancer taking center stage on Broadway. Broad strokes of the paint gun, guided only by her lean body and steady hand.

I don’t know how many times I’ve caught myself turning a wrench, only to find out I’m not even on a bolt. She’s constantly in my head, tormenting me with the memories of that night. The night she pretends had never happened. Even the memories feel like a vice around my body, squeezing every last drop of control out of me one drip at a time.

Burnt isn’t making it any easier. He makes excuses to come to the shop every single day. Yesterday, I’d caught him in the office staring at her ass while she worked on the underbody coat of the Corvette. Had Judge walked in a few seconds later, he’d have noticed as well. That’s the last thing we need to happen.

Mack is wrecking us both from the inside out, and subjecting myself to this torment is all I can do for the sake of the club.Thankfully, after our now daily discussion about backing off, Burnt hasn’t made an appearance so far today. That was partly because I’d asked Hashtag to give him something to do to keep him busy.

“Come on you, fucker,” I growl at the stripped bolt. I crank the wrench harder, putting all of my weight into it, but it doesn’t budge. I try again. “God damn piece of monkey shit,” I yell, unable to help but lose my cool.

The wrench flies from my hand, clattering against the tool box behind me. It connects with a large clunk against the red metal, only to land right back at my feet. I rake my greasy hands through my hair before I can stop myself. “Fuck!” I roar again.

“Need some help?”

I freeze in place, turning slowly to find Mack behind me. Her jumpsuit is splattered with paint, and the paint mask she’d been wearing is pulled up on the top of her head like a bandana, covering her raven silk hair completely.

“I’m fine.” My tone comes out more clipped than I intend, but it is what it is. She’s invading my space, and that’s last thing either of us need.

“You sure about that?” She smirks. “You look like you’re one second away from setting this heap on fire and washing your hands of it.” Her hands fall to her ample hips, the fire engine red polish on her nails peeking out from under the cuffs of her jumpsuit. The flash of those same nails digging into my flesh as she took her pleasure from me just a few nights ago punches me in the gut.

Stop thinking about that, asshole. She set the boundaries. Respect them.

“I’m fine,” I repeat. I glare at the current cause of my frustrations and frown. “Stripped bolt.”

Mack side steps me and sidles up next to me under the car. She reaches up into the illuminated space from my shop light and tries to locate it.

“There’s your problem,” she states. “There’s no way your hand is going to fit up in that tight space. Let me try. I might be able to get a better angle.” Mack flinches as the words leave her lips.

“What do you know about better angles?” I grin back, knowing it’ll make her squirm. She’s tormented me for so long that a little payback seems to be in order. Innocent, non-fucking payback.

She casts a flat stare back at me. “I happen to specialize in knowing all the angles.” Her deadpan smile throws me off. “I paint cars for a living, remember?”

“Like I could forget anything about you.”

“Shut up,” she retorts, a small smile forming on her face. “You know the rules, V.”

I start to tell her just how much I hate the fucking rules, but Mack shoves past me, and bends over to retrieve the wrench I’d tossed, putting her ass on full display. Even the baggy jumpsuit, hides nothing. Bringing my hand to my mouth, I bite into it to stifle the groan, just as Mack pops back up. She peers over her shoulder with a sly smile. “You know I can feel you staring, right?”

“Didn’t say anything about not looking at you in your rules,” I reply. “Maybe you should have been more specific.”

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