I purse my lips together and touch his face with my hands. “I’m being myself, finally.”
The edge of his mouth tips up in a small smile, then falls when he replies simply, “I love you too, Kate.”
And without a moment’s hesitation, I yank his face down to mine, and I kiss him. I kiss him as if my happiness depends on it. Because at this point, it completely does. Miles Hudson is the sun and the air and the moon and the stars. He’s fucking wonderful, and he loves me.
How much more book worthy can it get than that?
3 Months Later
I hear the familiar purr of the ‘65 Ford driving into the garage under my feet just as I pull the homemade pizza that I spent forever making out of the oven. I know it’s not necessarily a romantic meal, but it’s sort of what started our relationship. I gave him leftover pizza in exchange for his silence about me sneaking into Tire Depot to write. He ended up being the man of my dreams, and the type of guy I have to celebrate three-month anniversaries with.
I can’t help myself.
I even have licorice ropes for dessert because, like any good novel, full circle moments always make a scene extra special. And since I’ve just completed my mechanic romantic comedy, I’m ready to celebrate The End with the man I love.
But for fun, we’re calling tonight “date research,” and Miles obliged almost instantly.
The past few months have been a blur of a wonderfully uncomplicated relationship that consists of morning coffees on his porch, quiet dinners out, and sex pretty much anywhere we can get it. Oh, and words. So many words! I’m constantly taking notes with Miles wrapped around me at night. He’s not even surprised anymore when he wakes up to his alarm clock to find me in nothing but his clothes, clacking away on my laptop and watching the sunrise on his front porch.
Miles Hudson’s house makes Tire Depot look like a little bitch.
Just kidding! I take it back. I still come creeping in there for work at least three days a week. Those complimentary beverages and cookies won’t consume themselves! And Sam’s uncle finally introduced himself to me and told me I could come in as often as I like.
Life is good. And being committed to Miles is great. But tonight will be fun to think back and remember how oddly our relationship started out.
I’m shocked to hear the doorbell on Miles’s front door chime. I guess he’s taking this “research” seriously. With a smile, I hurry over in my platform sandal wedges to open the door and nearly fall over dead when I see my man standing in front of me wearing a frickin’ button-down with a rose in his hand.
A single, red rose.
But I’m looking beyond that now because he clearly did a lot more than just wash up at the shop. His dark hair looks like it has some gel in it, and his dark jeans are worn in all the right place. The places that a man’s jeans wear when he works hard in them. And good God, he even has dress shoes on.
He looks good enough to eat.
“Jesus fuck,” Miles drawls, taking in my short red dress. It was an impulse purchase and way too slutty to wear out in public. But I’m committed to my research this evening.
Miles looks like he more than appreciates it as he steps inside and drops the rose on the side table. In one long stride, he kicks the door shut with his heel and cups my face in his hands.
Hunched over me, he husks against my lips, “First thing I have to say about what I’m thinking right now for your research is that when a girl who you’ve been fucking for months still makes your dick hard just by wearing a cute little dress, it makes it really damn hard for a decent guy to be a gentleman.”
With a soft yank of my hair, he tips my head back and crushes his mouth to mine. My hands fist into his shirt by his sides as I open my lips to him and welcome his hot, wet tongue inside me. He caresses his tongue against mine, and I feel a pooling in my belly that is so intense, I moan into his mouth.
He growls in response, sounding feral and animalistic as he walks us backward toward the nearby wall. He plasters me up against it, one hand letting go of my cheek as he reaches down to pull my leg up onto his hip, my dress riding up all the way to my waist. Lowering his body, he presses his front to my center, and I cry out when he rubs himself against me, showing me how hard he is already.
Seriously! How did he get that hard this fast?
“Holy shit!” I exclaim when he breaks our lips to run his whiskered jaw down my neck, his tongue trailing a delightful path of goose bumps the entire way. He gets low to my breasts and plunges inside my cleavage to suck hard.
“Oh!” I yelp and shove him softly.
He pulls back with a proud smile. “That’s going to leave a mark.”
“You jerk,” I husk, pushing him away. My man has an affection for leaving marks on me, and even though I pretend to hate it, I actually frickin’ love it.
His chest vibrates with laughter as he holds me to him. “I can’t help it. I like marking you.”
I roll my eyes. “What was it you said when you came in? Decent guys are gentlemen or something.”
He lifts his brows. “Who said I was decent?”
I glance down at my cleavage and pull my dress back to see the red mark already showing. “Clearly not you.”
The hungry look in his eyes is not at all apologetic, and I can’t help but love him a little more for it. On wobbly legs, I extract myself from his embrace and grab my flower from the table he unceremoniously tossed it to.
“You brought me a flower.” I smile and press it to my nose while walking back toward the kitchen.
His grin is sheepish as he rubs the back of his neck. “I thought the flower was very date-like. Book boyfriend worthy, as you say.” He shrugs his shoulders like it’s no big deal.
I shake my head. “Quit acting like you’re too cool for this stuff now. You love book research.”
He chuckles softly and props himself on the counter by the stove while I search for a pizza cutter. “Actually, I just love watching you work.”
“Yeah?” I reply, abandoning my task to grab a couple of beers out of the fridge. I hand one to him that he cracks open, handing it back to me so I give him the other.
He clinks bottles with me, takes a drink and points to his front door. “And the fact you can sit out on my porch and create your stories is enough to make my dick hard.”
“Brake fluid makes your dick hard,” I reply with a dramatic eye roll.
He pins me with a look of warning and sets his beer down, reaching out and yanking me into him. He twirls us so his arms cage me against the counter and he’s pressed up against me in that really delicious, big way he has about him.
He looks into my eyes with such sincerity when he says, “I’m not joking. I like you writing here, Kate.”
“Well, the vibe here is good. Even better than Tire Depot.”
He gasps at that and smiles. “What if I want you to spend your days and nights here?”
“Well, you pretty much have all my nights on lockdown already,” I state with a laugh. Lynsey’s house is not conducive to noisy sex, so we inevitably end up at Miles’s place more often than not.
“I mean permanently.” His smile falls, his eyes grow serious.
I frown up at him. “Like move in with you?”