The damage to the muscle car was minimal – she’d been all but stopped when the front tire of her bike made contact with the bumper - but Nicki had never been more embarrassed in her life. While the others gaped in shock, Nick hung his head. Sean glared at her, but said nothing as she sputtered apologies and promised to fix everything.
The reason for the accident, unfortunately, was all too obvious. Sean had been talking to the others, his form-fitting thermal molding to his perfect back, his arms extended upward, showcasing his magnificent physique as he grasped the lift above. Nicki had been so distracted by the sight of the finely chiseled back and arms, not to mention the perfect fit of those well-worn jeans around his narrow hips and powerful legs that she neglected to fully engage the brakes in time.
The situation only got worse later that morning, when a couple of the guys mysteriously disappeared, only to return dressed head to toe in coveralls complete with hats, boots, shades, and gloves, snickering as they struck poses in and around the bays. Nicki made a point not to look at any of them. When she glanced at Sean, who had wisely remained in the office all morning, he only shook his head.
Nicki strongly believed the old adage that turnabout was fair play. So she left for lunch and returned in high heels, skin-tight leather pants, and a push-up cami that sat several inches above her waistline to showcase the spiral tat and the cascading, glittering navel ring.
“That’s enough,” Sean said, grabbing her by her upper arm and escorting her into his office after the third car was damaged and one of his guys had to go to the emergency room for a crushed hand when Dave inadvertently closed the hood of an SUV on it. He angrily tossed her a set of coveralls.
“For Christ’s sake put these on. You made your point. Take the rest of the day off.”
Anger filled her eyes as she yanked the coveralls over her legs and slid her arms into the sleeves. “You didn’t tell any of them to go home early,” she bit out through clenched teeth, tilting her head toward the work area.
“They didn’t distract you enough to make you hurt yourself,” he growled. “I’m running a business here, not a goddamn peep show. Save it for Angels, sweetheart.”
The flush rose in her face, across her neck, down through her chest. She tilted her chin defiantly and set her shoulders back.
*
In response Sean rose to his full height and looked down at her. God, she was hot, hands on hips, glaring up at him. From this angle he could just about see the dark rosy edges of her nipples peeking out of the push-up through the unzipped coveralls. Her chest was heaving in outrage.
Something in him snapped. A second later his hands were around her upper arms, yanking her against him. His mouth descended upon hers, teasing it open with the force of his tongue, taking instant and total possession of her mouth.
The exquisite taste of her exploded in his mouth and made him groan as he demanded more. After the initial shock, he felt her open to him, felt her tongue sweeping against his, felt her hands splayed against his chest, nails curling into his flesh like claws through his shirt. The sensations overwhelmed him. He palmed her ass and pulled her up against him, grinding his iron-hard cock right where it wanted to be. Colors burst behind his eyes as a raw, primal need bubbled up inside of him, consuming him, demanding that he bend her over the desk and take her right there.
He felt her body tense against his, felt her ass clench in his large hands. The softest cry left her lips and went right into his seconds before her body relaxed. He knew that sound, knew that look on her face. He’d made her come again.
Alarm bells rang in his head. It took him awhile to realize that the sound was the repeating honking and hooting from within the bays as the men watched through the wall of glass separating them from the office. Except for Nick. Nick looked like he wanted to kill him.
Somehow Sean managed to break away and look down. Nicki seemed just as taken aback as he was, but before long the shock in her eyes changed to fear. Real fear.
“Get the fuck out of here,” he growled, pushing himself back. His voice was rough; it was a struggle not to grab her, pull her back, and finish what he started.
Nicki didn’t hesitate. She grabbed her jacket and ran for the door, nearly plowing over a customer in the process.
Seconds later he heard the sweet purr of her homemade Ducati as she tore from the garage like a bullet.
Minutes later he heard the angry wail of police sirens, even as he registered Nick cursing up a storm and mounting his own bike in pursuit.
*