Chapter One: Clockwork and Grease

The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, casting a sterile glow over the rows of plastic chairs in the DMV waiting area. Riley Nelson shifted in her seat, the stiff fabric of her tailored blouse pulling slightly across her shoulders as she adjusted the strap of her purse. The air smelled faintly of stale coffee and industrial cleaner, the kind of scent that clung to government buildings like a second skin. She exhaled through her nose, tapping her manicured nails against the armrest in a rhythm that matched the ticking of the wall clock- two hours. That’s what the harried clerk had told her when she’d checked in. Two hours of her life she’d never get back.

She reached into her bag, fingers brushing against her phone before she thought better of it. If she started scrolling now, she’d only grow more irritated by the second. Instead, she let her gaze wander, taking in the sea of equally impatient faces- until it landed on the man sitting beside her.

He was leaning forward slightly, forearms resting on his thighs, hands clasped between his knees. His mechanic’s uniform was smudged with grease stains, the name Reed embroidered in faded thread over his left breast pocket. The fabric stretched taut over broad shoulders, the sleeves rolled up to reveal forearms dusted with dark hair, the skin weathered from years of manual labor. His fingers were thick, calloused, the kind of hands that looked like they could dismantle an engine blindfolded. A faint scent of motor oil and something earthy- maybe soap- lingered around him, cutting through the DMV’s antiseptic aroma.

Riley’s lips twitched. Of all the seats in this godforsaken place, fate had plopped her next to the one man who looked like he’d rather be anywhere else. She could relate.

Reed Martin didn’t glance her way at first. His attention was fixed on the numbered ticket in his hand- B-47– as if willing it to advance faster. The muscles in his jaw flexed, a telltale sign of impatience, though his expression remained carefully neutral. He wasn’t the type to sigh loudly or drum his fingers. No, his frustration simmered beneath the surface, contained, like a pot left on low heat.

Then, as if sensing her study, his brown eyes cut toward her. Deep-set and tired, but sharp. Assessing. For a heartbeat, neither looked away. Riley’s pulse gave an unexpected flutter, her fingers stilling against the armrest. There was something in his gaze- not quite a challenge, not quite curiosity, but something warmer. Something that made the air between them feel charged, like the moment before a storm breaks.

“You look like you’re plotting an escape,” Reed said finally, his voice low and rough, the kind of timbre that carried the weight of early mornings and long hours. A mechanic’s voice.

Riley arched a brow, the beauty mark above it lifting slightly. “And you look like you’re one more minute away from dismantling that clock with your bare hands.”

The corner of his mouth quirked. Not quite a smile, but close. “Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve taken something apart out of frustration.”

“Let me guess- you’re the type who puts it back together better than it was before.”

He exhaled, a sound that might’ve been a laugh if he weren’t so clearly wound tight. “Usually. Unless it’s DMV paperwork.” His fingers flexed against his knee, the callouses catching the light. “You?”

“Catering,” she said, nodding toward the logo embroidered on her purse- a delicate script Riley’s Table. “I make things pretty and functional. Though I can’t say the same for this experience.” She gestured vaguely at the room.

Reed’s gaze flicked over her- just a glance, but it lingered on the silver necklace resting against the hollow of her throat, the way her blouse draped over her shoulders. “Bet you don’t usually dress for an audience of bored strangers and crying toddlers.”

Riley smirked. “You’d be surprised. Half my job is making small talk with people who’d rather be anywhere else. Sound familiar?”

That earned her the ghost of a smile, fleeting but real. “Guess we’re both professionals at suffering in silence.”

Silence settled between them again, but it was different now- less strained. Riley found herself studying his hands again, imagining how they’d feel against her skin. Rough. Warm. She swallowed, shifting in her seat, suddenly aware of how close their arms were, how the heat of him seemed to radiate into the space between them.

“So,” she said, tilting her head toward his ticket. “B-47, huh? We’re in the same purgatory.”

Reed followed her gaze, then frowned. “Wait- “ He pulled his license from his wallet, comparing the expiration date to hers. “Same birthday?”

Riley blinked. “September twelfth.”

“No way.” His brows shot up. “You’re kidding.”

“Scout’s honor.” She held up her license, the laminated edge catching the light. “Though I was never a Scout.”

Reed let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “What are the odds?”

“Statistically? Probably higher than you’d think in a room this big.” But she was smiling now, the absurdity of it breaking through her earlier irritation. “Though I’d like to think it’s fate’s way of apologizing for making us wait two hours.”

“Fate’s got a weird sense of humor.” His knee brushed hers as he shifted, just the barest graze, but Riley’s breath hitched. Neither pulled away. “You believe in that stuff? Fate?”

She considered it, tracing the rim of her purse with her thumb. “I believe in patterns. Coincidences that feel too perfect to be random.” Her gaze flicked to his. “Like sitting next to a stranger who shares your birthday in a place neither of us wants to be.”

Reed held her stare, his own dark and unreadable. Then, slowly, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled candy wrapper. “All I’ve got is a butterscotch from 2017 and a receipt for spark plugs. Not exactly fate’s calling card.”

Riley laughed, the sound bright and unexpected in the drab room. “I’ve got a granola bar and a lipstick that’s probably older than your candy. We’re a pair, aren’t we?”

“We’re a mess,” he corrected, but there was no bite to it. Just warmth. Something easy and unguarded that made Riley’s chest tighten.

The overhead speaker crackled to life, droning out another number. Not teirs. Reed exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. The movement pulled the fabric of his uniform tight across his chest, and Riley’s gaze snagged on the way his biceps flexed beneath the sleeve.

“You know,” she said, lowering her voice, “if we’re going to be stuck here, we might as well make it interesting.”

Reed’s hand stilled. “How’s that?”

She leaned in just an inch, close enough that she could see the flecks of gold in his irises, the way his stubble darkened his jaw. “Twenty questions. But only the good ones.”

A beat. Then, “Like what?”

“Like- “ Riley tapped her chin, deliberating. “What’s the last thing you lied about?”

Reed’s brows shot up. “That’s your opening move?”

“You afraid of the truth, mechanic?”

He held her gaze, something flickering behind his eyes- amusement, maybe, or the first spark of something sharper. “I told my kid I’d be home by six last night. Got held up at the shop.”

Riley hummed, nodding. “Honorable lie. Mine was telling my daughter I love her new haircut.” She mimed scissors with her fingers. “It’s- a phase.”

Reed’s laugh was quiet, but it rumbled through her, deep and rich. “Alright, my turn.” He tilted his head, studying her in a way that made her skin prickle. “What’s something you want but won’t let yourself have?”

The question hit her like a physical touch. Riley’s fingers twitched in her lap. This, she thought. You. But she didn’t say that. Instead, she wet her lips, choosing her words carefully. “Time. Just- one day where the clock doesn’t matter. No deadlines, no appointments, no- I’ll be there in five minutes.’ Just time.”

Reed’s expression softened. “Sounds nice.”

“It does,” she agreed softly.

Another number. Still not theirs.

Reed’s thigh pressed against hers again, this time lingering. Riley didn’t move away. The heat of him seeped through the fabric of her jeans, a slow, deliberate warmth. His voice dropped, rougher now. “What’s the first thing you’d do with that time?”

She should’ve lied. Should’ve said sleep or read a book or something safe. But the way he was looking at her- like she was the only thing in the room worth seeing- made the truth spill out. “I’d let myself want things I shouldn’t.”

His breath hitched. Just barely, but she saw it. Felt it. The air between them grew thick, charged, like the moment before a match catches flame.

“Riley,” he said, her name a test on his tongue.

She liked the way it sounded. Liked it too much.

“B-47.” The clerk’s voice was nasally, oblivious to the tension snapping between them. “Reed Martin?”

Reed didn’t move. Neither did Riley. The moment stretched, fragile and electric, until he finally exhaled, long and slow. “Guess that’s me.”

He stood, but not before his fingers brushed against hers- just the graze of his knuckles against her wrist, so light it could’ve been an accident. Riley’s pulse jumped.

“See you around, birthday girl,” he murmured, already turning away.

Riley watched him go, the sway of his broad shoulders, the way his boots scuffed against the linoleum. She pressed her fingers to her wrist, where his touch still lingered like a brand.

The clerk called her number next.

She didn’t move.

Not yet.

Chapter Two: Unraveling Over Coffee

The DMV’s fluorescent lights hummed overhead as Riley watched Reed walk away, his broad shoulders tapering into a lean waist, the grease-stained hem of his uniform brushing against the backs of his knees. His fingers had barely grazed her wrist- just enough to send a jolt through her, sharp and unexpected, like the first sip of wine after a long day. She exhaled slowly, pressing her palms against the plastic chair, as if grounding herself could erase the lingering warmth of his touch.

By the time she stepped out into the late afternoon sun, the parking lot was half-empty, the heat of the day softening into something bearable. She slid into her car, the leather seat still warm, and pulled out her phone before she could second-guess herself. Her thumbs hovered over the screen. What was she doing? She barely knew this man. But the way he’d looked at her- like she was something worth figuring out- had unsettled her in the best way.

She typed before she lost her nerve.

Unknown Number: Hope your DMV ordeal ended better than mine. Still owe you that coffee for the birthday twin thing.

She hit send, then tossed her phone onto the passenger seat as if it had burned her.

Reed’s phone buzzed in his pocket as he unlocked the door to his shop, the scent of motor oil and metal wrapping around him like an old, familiar coat. He wiped his hands on a rag, debating whether to check it now or let it wait. But the weight of the day- the way Riley’s laughter had cut through the DMV’s suffocating boredom, the way her thigh had pressed against his just long enough to make him forget how to breathe- pulled him toward the screen.

His thumb swiped up.

Riley: Hope your DMV ordeal ended better than mine. Still owe you that coffee for the birthday twin thing.

A slow grin spread across his face, rough with the day’s stubble. He typed back, fingers thick but careful.

Reed: Took them three tries to spell my name right on the temp license. You’re lucky you escaped when you did. Coffee’s on me.

He pocketed the phone, then pulled it out again. Too casual. Too- something. He deleted the last text and tried again.

Reed: I’d take that coffee. Name the place.

Better. Direct. No room for overthinking.

Three days later, Reed found himself standing outside Brew & Leaf, a café tucked between a bookstore and a florist, its windows steamed from the afternoon rush. He’d changed out of his work clothes- dark jeans, a faded navy Henley that clung to his shoulders, boots scuffed but clean. He felt ridiculous, like a teenager on a first date, running his palm over his jaw for the tenth time to check for missed stubble.

Riley was already inside, seated at a corner table by the window, her fingers wrapped around a ceramic mug. She’d twisted her hair into a loose knot at the nape of her neck, a few curls escaping to frame her face. The sunlight caught the silver necklace at her throat, the delicate chain glinting as she turned the page of a cookbook propped open beside her.

Reed hesitated in the doorway. She looked different here- not the polished caterer or the sharp-witted stranger from the DMV, but something softer. More real.

She glanced up, and her lips parted in surprise before curving into a smile. “Took you long enough to show up,” she teased, though her voice held none of the bite from their first meeting. Just warmth. “I was starting to think you’d stood me up.”

“Traffic,” he lied, sliding into the chair across from her. The table was small, intimate. His knee brushed the leg of her chair, and he didn’t pull away. “And I don’t stand people up.”

Her hazel eyes flicked to his, assessing. “Good to know.”

A silence settled, not uncomfortable but loaded, like the pause before a storm breaks. The barista called his name, and Reed stood to grab his coffee- a black pour-over, no sugar- giving himself a moment to steady his pulse.

When he returned, Riley had closed the cookbook. “So,” she said, stirring a packet of raw sugar into her latte. “Twenty questions, round two? Or do we pretend the DMV never happened?”

Reed exhaled a laugh, wrapping his hands around his mug. The heat seeped into his palms. “I’d rather not relive that. But I’ll answer anything you ask.”

She leaned forward slightly, the neckline of her blouse dipping just enough to draw his gaze before he forced it back to her face. “Why’d you lie to your kid about being busy?”

The question hit like a wrench to the chest. Reed’s fingers tightened around the mug. “Because saying I don’t want to disappoint you sounds weaker than I’m swamped at work.”

Riley’s expression softened. “I get that.” She traced the rim of her cup with her thumb. “Emma asked me last week why I don’t date. Told her I’m married to the business.” A bitter laugh escaped her. “Pathetic, right? Like my catering company’s gonna keep me warm at night.”

Reed studied her- the way her lashes cast shadows on her cheeks, the way her lips pressed together after admitting something raw. “Not pathetic,” he said quietly. “Safe.”

Her gaze snapped to his. For a heartbeat, neither looked away.

Then Riley exhaled, breaking the spell. “God, we’re a pair.” She took a sip of her latte, her fingers trembling just slightly against the cup. “So. Divorced, two kids, workaholics with trust issues. What else?”

Reed smirked. “You forgot birthday twins.”

“Right.” She grinned. “Shared astrological doom.”

He matched her smile, but his mind was still stuck on trust issues. On the way her voice had dropped when she mentioned her daughter. On the fact that he’d just met this woman, and yet sitting here, with the scent of coffee and vanilla wrapping around them, felt like coming home after a long day on the road.

“Your turn,” she prompted. “Ask me something.”

Reed didn’t hesitate. “What’s the last thing that made you happy? Not content. Happy.”

Riley’s fingers stilled against her cup. She looked out the window, where the sun was dipping lower, painting the sidewalk in gold. “This morning,” she said finally. “Jake- my son- burned his first batch of pancakes trying to make breakfast for Emma. The smoke alarm went off, the dog stole a pancake off the floor, and Emma filmed the whole thing to blackmail him later.” She laughed softly. “It was chaotic and stupid and perfect.”

Reed’s chest ached. “Sounds like it.”

She met his eyes again, hers bright with unshed laughter. “What about you?”

He thought of his daughter, Lily, perched on the counter in his garage last weekend, handing him tools while she chattered about some school project. Of the way she’d grinned when he’d let her “help” change the oil, her small hands smeared with grease. “Same,” he admitted. “The little things.”

Riley’s smile faded just a little, her gaze dropping to his mouth before flicking back up. “We should do this again,” she said, too quickly. “Not the DMV part. The coffee part.”

Reed’s pulse kicked up. “Yeah,” he said,voice rough. “We should.”

Outside, the streetlights flickered on, casting long shadows across the table. Neither of them moved to leave.

Chapter Three: Unfinished Rhythm

The rain had started as a fine mist, barely noticeable when Reed pulled into the parking lot of Brew & Leaf, the café where he and Riley had agreed to meet. But by the time he stepped out of his truck, the sky had opened up, turning the pavement into a slick, reflective sheet. He jogged toward the entrance, his dark Henley clinging to his shoulders by the time he reached the door- only to find it locked, the lights inside dimmed. A handwritten sign taped to the glass read “Closed for private event. Sorry for the inconvenience!”

Reed exhaled sharply, running a hand through his damp hair. He pulled out his phone, thumb hovering over Riley’s contact. Before he could hit call, a voice cut through the downpour.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

He turned. Riley stood under the awning of the shop next door, her arms crossed over her chest, her blouse darkened with rain in patches. Her hair, usually so carefully styled, was sticking to her cheeks, and her hazel eyes burned with frustration. “I drove twenty minutes out of my way for this,” she muttered, gesturing at the closed café.

Reed stepped toward her, the rain drumming against the metal awning above them. “I thought I was late,” he admitted, voice rough. “Didn’t even check if they were open.”

Riley let out a humorless laugh, shaking her head. “Of course. Because why would anything go smoothly?” She hugged herself, her fingers digging into her arms. The air between them was thick with more than just the humidity- there was the weight of their last conversation, the way they’d both lingered at the table, neither wanting to leave. The way her knee had pressed against his under the wood, just for a second too long.

Reed cleared his throat. “We could- “

“What?” she snapped, then sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Sorry. I’m just- fucking tired of things not working out.”

He studied her- the way her breath hitched, the way her lips pressed together like she was holding back more than just frustration. The rain pattered around them, the world reduced to this sliver of dry space, the two of them trapped in it. “My place is a mess,” he said slowly. “But yours isn’t.”

Riley blinked, then laughed- really laughed, sharp and surprised. “Are you seriously asking to come over right now?”

Reed didn’t flinch. “Unless you’d rather stand here all night.”

She held his gaze for a long moment, her chest rising and falling faster than the rain could explain. Then, with a shake of her head, she turned toward the parking lot. “Fine. But I’m not feeding you.”

Riley’s apartment smelled like vanilla and something faintly citrus, the scent clinging to the air as Reed stepped inside, dripping onto the entryway mat. She tossed her keys onto the console table, then turned to face him, arms still crossed. “Towels are in the bathroom. Second door on the left.”

He nodded, stripping off his damp Henley as he walked, leaving it draped over the back of a kitchen chair. The apartment was warm, the kind of warmth that seeped into his bones, chasing away the chill of the rain. The living room was lived-in but tidy- throw blankets draped over the couch, a half-empty mug on the coffee table, a framed photo of her kids on the mantel.

When he returned, towel-dried and in just his undershirt, Riley was already in the kitchen, rummaging through the fridge. She glanced over her shoulder at him, her eyes flicking down to his chest before snapping back up. “I lied,” she said, pulling out a carton of eggs. “I am feeding you.”

Reed leaned against the doorway, watching as she moved- efficient, confident, her hips swaying slightly as she pulled a cutting board from the cabinet. “You don’t have to.”

“I know.” She cracked an egg into a bowl with more force than necessary. “But I want to.”

The words hung between them, heavy with something unspoken. Reed swallowed, his fingers curling against the doorframe. “What are you making?”

“Whatever the hell I can throw together.” She shot him a look, but there was no real bite to it. “Sit down. You’re hovering.”

He obeyed, taking a seat at the small kitchen table. The space was intimate, the kind of kitchen meant for one, maybe two people at most. He could hear the sizzle of butter in the pan, the clink of a spatula against the stovetop. Riley worked in silence for a few minutes, her movements precise, her focus absolute. Then, without looking at him, she spoke. “You ever just- get tired of being the one who has to hold everything together?”

Reed exhaled, watching the way her shoulders tensed. “Every damn day.”

She nodded, flipping whatever was in the pan with a sharp flick of her wrist. “Emma’s got a school project due tomorrow. She told me about it a week ago. But did I remember? No. Because I was too busy making sure the fucking linens for the Whitmore wedding were monogrammed correctly.” She let out a shaky breath. “And then Jake asked me today if I even like my job anymore.”

Reed didn’t offer empty reassurance. “Do you?”

Riley turned, leaning back against the counter, her hands gripping the edge. “I love it. Most days.” She laughed, bitter. “But some days, I just want to burn it all down and move to a cabin in the woods where no one needs me for anything.”

He understood that feeling- the weight of responsibility pressing down until it felt like you might crack. “I used to dream about selling the shop,” he admitted. “Just- walking away. But then I’d think about my dad’s face if I did.” He rubbed his thumb over the scar on his knuckle, an old injury from a wrench slip. “Some things are worth the weight.”

Riley studied him, her expression softening. “Yeah,” she murmured. “I guess they are.”

The food- some kind of frittata with herbs and cheese- was simple but perfect, the kind of meal that tasted better because it was unexpected. They ate at the table, knees brushing again, the way they had at the cafe. This time, neither pulled away.

The music started low, something soulful and slow drifting from the speakers Riley turned on after they finished eating. She didn’t ask if he wanted to dance. She just held out her hand.

Reed looked at it, then at her. “I don’t dance.”

“Good,” she said, curling her fingers slightly. “Neither do I.”

He took her hand.

The first touch was electric- her skin warm, her grip firm as she pulled him up. They stood there for a moment, awkward, too close and not close enough. Then Riley stepped into him, her free hand resting on his shoulder, his settling at her waist. They moved slowly, swaying more than dancing, the space between them charged with every breath.

“You’re tense,” she murmured against his ear.

“You’re not?”

She laughed softly, her breath hot on his neck. “I’m terrified.”

Reed’s hand tightened on her waist, his thumb brushing the fabric of her blouse, feeling the heat of her through it. “Of what?”

“Of this.” Her voice was barely a whisper. “Of you.”

He should’ve pulled back. Should’ve made a joke, lightened the mood. But the way she was looking at him- like he was the only thing in the world worth being afraid of- shattered whatever resistance he had left. His hand slid up her back, fingers tangling in her hair as he pulled her closer, their bodies flush. “Riley,” he warned, but it wasn’t a warning at all. It was a surrender.

She didn’t let him finish. Her mouth crashed into his, hungry and desperate, her hands fisting in his shirt. Reed groaned, the sound swallowed by her as he kissed her back, just as fierce. They stumbled, her back hitting the couch, his body pressing her into it. The music faded into the background, the world narrowing to the taste of her, the way her legs parted to let him settle between them.

Her hands were everywhere- his chest, his jaw, his hair- like she was memorizing him. Reed cupped her face, angling her head to deepen the kiss, his tongue sliding against hers. She moaned into his mouth, her hips lifting, seeking friction. He rolled his hips in response, the hard ridge of his cock pressing against the heat of her, and she gasped, breaking the kiss.

“Fuck,” she breathed, her eyes dark, her lips swollen. “Reed- “

He didn’t let her finish that either. His mouth found her neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin below her ear as his hand slid up her thigh, pushing her skirt higher. Her legs fell open wider, inviting, and he growled against her pulse, his fingers inching toward the damp heat between her thighs.

The knock at the door was so sudden, so loud, that they both froze.

Riley’s breath hitched, her body tensing beneath him. “Shit,” she whispered. “That’s- Emma.”

Reed pulled back instantly, his chest heaving, his cock aching. Riley sat up, smoothing her skirt, her hair wild, her lips still glistening from his mouth. She looked at him, eyes wide, before calling out, “One second, sweetie!”

The moment was gone. But the way she looked at him- like she was already counting the seconds until she could have him again- told him it wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

Chapter Four: What the Silence Held

The knock at the door sent a jolt through Riley’s body, her fingers tightening around Reed’s wrist before she could stop herself. The warmth of his skin, the rough texture of his calloused palm against her own- it all vanished in an instant as reality crashed back in. She stumbled back, her breath coming in short, uneven gasps, her lips still swollen from his kiss. The air between them was thick with something more than just desire- it was laced with panic, with the sharp, bitter tang of almost.

Reed didn’t move. His chest rose and fell in slow, measured breaths, his dark eyes locked onto hers as if willing her to stay, to not retreat into the safe, carefully constructed walls she’d built. But the knock came again- three sharp raps, followed by Emma’s voice, muffled but unmistakable. “Mom? You in there? I forgot my key again.”

Riley exhaled sharply, pressing her palms against her thighs as if she could physically push down the heat still coiling low in her belly. She turned away, her voice steady despite the tremor in her hands. “Just a sec, sweetheart.” Her fingers fumbled with the hem of her blouse, tugging it back into place, smoothing down the fabric as if that could erase the evidence of what had almost happened. Reed stayed where he was, his broad frame tense, his undershirt clinging to the damp heat of his skin. The rain outside had slowed to a dull patter against the windows, but the storm inside the apartment was far from over.

Emma’s arrival was a blur of apologetic excuses- forgot my charger, left my homework, sorry, I’ll be quick– but Riley barely registered the words. She moved on autopilot, fetching the forgotten items, her smile too bright, her voice too light. Reed lingered in the background, his presence a quiet, solid weight, though he kept his distance. When the door finally clicked shut behind Emma, the apartment felt too small, the silence too loud.

Riley didn’t turn around immediately. She stood there, her back to Reed, her fingers curled around the edge of the countertop. The wood was cool beneath her palms, grounding her. “I can’t do this,” she said suddenly, her voice raw. Not him. Not the almost-kiss, not the way his hands had burned through the fabric of her dress, not the way her body had arched into his like she was starving for him. “I can’t.”

Reed didn’t pretend to misunderstand. He stepped closer, close enough that she could feel the heat radiating off him, but he didn’t touch her. “Because of her?” His voice was low, rough.

“No.” Riley turned then, her hazel eyes glistening. “Because of me.” She swallowed hard, her throat working. “I spent years picking up the pieces after my ex. I swore I’d never let myself get blindsided like that again. And now- “ She gestured helplessly between them. “Now I’m standing here, one knock away from letting you fuck me on my own kitchen counter, and I don’t even know you.”

The words hung between them, ugly and honest. Reed’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t look away. “You know me,” he said quietly. “You know I work too much. You know I lie to my kid about being too busy because it’s easier than admitting I don’t know how to be what he needs. You know I haven’t let anyone touch me in years because every time I try, I end up feeling like I’m failing at one more goddamn thing.” His hands flexed at his sides, like he was fighting the urge to reach for her. “You think I don’t get it? That I don’t lie awake wondering if I’m gonna fuck this up too?”

Riley’s breath hitched. She hadn’t expected that- the rawness of it, the way his voice cracked on the last word. It made her chest ache. “Reed- “

He took a step forward, close enough now that she could see the stubble darkening his jaw, the way his pulse jumped in his throat. “I’m not asking you to trust me yet,” he murmured. “I’m asking you to let me earn it.” His hand lifted, slow, giving her time to pull away. But she didn’t. His knuckles brushed her cheekbone, his touch feather-light, like she was something fragile. “Let me show you I’m not him.”

The dam broke. Riley surged forward, her hands fisting in the damp fabric of his undershirt as she crashed her mouth against his. It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t sweet. It was desperate, bruising, a collision of teeth and tongue and years of held-back need. Reed groaned against her lips, his arms banding around her waist, hauling her flush against him. She could feel him- hard, thick, the ridge of his cock pressing against her stomach through the thin barrier of their clothes. Her hips rolled instinctively, seeking friction, and his grip tightened, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her ass.

“Bedroom,” she gasped against his mouth. “Now.”

He didn’t argue. Didn’t tease. Just nodded, his breath coming in rough bursts as he let her drag him down the hall. The moment the bedroom door shut behind them, the last of Reed’s control snapped. His hands were everywhere- cupping her breasts through her blouse, thumbs dragging over her nipples until they peaked, hard and aching. Riley arched into the touch, a broken sound tearing from her throat. “God, yes- “

Reed growled, his mouth crashing down on hers again as he walked her backward toward the bed. The backs of her knees hit the mattress, and she fell, pulling him down with her. He braced himself over her, his body a heavy, welcome weight, his hips grinding down in slow, deliberate circles. Riley whimpered, her nails raking down his back. “More. Please.”

He didn’t make her beg twice. His hands found the hem of her blouse, yanking it up and over her head before tossing it aside. The cool air hit her skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat of Reed’s gaze as he took her in- the lace of her bra, the flush spreading across her chest, the way her ribs expanded with every ragged breath. “Fuck, Riley,” he breathed, his calloused fingers tracing the swell of her breasts. “You’re perfect.”

She reached for his belt, her fingers fumbling in her haste. “Less talking.” The buckle gave way with a sharp clink, and then she was palming him through his boxers, her thumb swiping over the damp spot at the tip. Reed hissed, his hips jerking into her touch. “Jesus- “

Riley didn’t let him finish. She shoved his boxers down, freeing his cock, and wrapped her fingers around the thick length. He was heavy, veined, the head flushed dark with need. She stroked him once, twice, her thumb smearing the bead of pre-cum leaking from the slit. Reed’s breath came in sharp, uneven bursts, his forehead dropping to hers. “If you keep doing that, this is gonna be over before it starts.”

She smirked, even as her own body throbbed with want. “Then you’d better make it worth my while.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. In one fluid motion, he hooked his fingers into the waistband of her pants and dragged them down, taking her underwear with them. The cool air hit her wet heat, and she gasped as Reed’ fingers found her, sliding through her folds with a groan. “So fucking wet,” he murmured, his voice rough with awe. “All for me?”

Riley couldn’t answer. Not with his fingers circling her clit, not with the way her hips were lifting off the bed, chasing his touch. She was so close already, her body coiled tight, her breath coming in short, sharp pants. “Reed, please- “

He didn’t make her wait. He lined himself up, the broad head of is cock pressing against her entrance, and then- finally– he pushed inside. Riley cried out, her back arching as he filled her, stretch after slow, delicious stretch. He bottomed out with a groan, his forehead pressed to hers, his breath hot against her lips. “Fuck, you feel- Riley.”

She couldn’t form words. Couldn’t do anything but clutch at him, her nails digging into his shoulders as he began to move. It wasn’t fast. wasn’t rough. It was deep, each thrust dragging against something inside her that made her see stars. His mouth found hers again, swallowing her moans as his hips rolled, his cock hitting that perfect, maddening spot over and over. “You’re mine,” he growled against her lips. “Say it.”

Riley shattered. The orgasm ripped through her, her body clenching around him, her cry muffled against his shoulder. Reed followed with a groan, his release spilling inside her in hot, thick pulses, his arms banding around her like he never wanted to let go.

And for the first time in years, Riley didn’t want him to.

Chapter Five: Unwinding the Knot

The air in Riley’s bedroom still hummed with the aftershocks of their urgency, the scent of sweat and sex clinging to the sheets. Reed lay beside her, his chest rising and falling in slow, steady breaths, but his fingers traced idle patterns along the curve of her waist, as if unwilling to let go. Riley, however, had gone still. Her gaze was fixed on the framed photo of Emma and Jake on the nightstand- her daughter’s bright smile, her son’s lopsided grin- both frozen in a moment of carefree happiness. The sight tightened something in her chest, a knot of guilt and longing twisting together.

Reed noticed. Of course he did. His hand stilled against her skin, his calloused thumb pressing just a little harder, grounding her. “You’re thinking too loud,” he murmured, his voice rough from exertion but warm, like gravel under slow-moving water.

Riley exhaled through her nose, forcing herself to relax against the pillow. “It’s just- “ She gestured vaguely toward the photo. “I don’t know how to do this. Be this and still be that.” The mother who had dinner on the table, who remembered permission slips and orthodontist appointments. The woman who didn’t let herself get distracted by the way a man’s hands felt on her body, by the way his weight pinned her to the mattress like she was something precious and irreplaceable.

Reed shifted, propping himself up on one elbow so he could look at her properly. His eyes were dark, serious, but there was no judgment in them. Just quiet understanding. “You don’t have to figure it all out right now.” His fingers slid up her arm, slow and deliberate, like he was memorizing the shape of her. “But you do have to stop tensing up every time you remember you’ve got a life outside this room.”

Riley let out a shaky laugh, though there was no humor in it. “Easier said than done.”

“Then let me help.” His voice dropped lower, thicker, and the way his gaze dragged over her- lingering on the flush still high on her cheeks, the way her nipples had tightened under his attention- sent a fresh wave of heat through her. “Lie on your stomach.”

She blinked. “What?”

Reed didn’t repeat himself. Instead, he sat up, the muscles in his back flexing as he reached for the half-empty bottle of lotion on the dresser. The bed dipped as he settled behind her, his thighs bracketing hers. His hands were already warm when they landed on her shoulders, fingers pressing into the knots there with just the right amount of pressure. Riley groaned, her body melting into the mattress before she could stop herself.

“See?” His thumbs worked in slow circles, kneading the tension from her traps, her deltoids, the tight cords of her neck. “You’re wound up like a goddamn coil. When’s the last time someone took care of you?”

Riley bit her lip, her answer lost somewhere between the pleasure of his touch and the embarrassment of admitting she couldn’t remember. Reed didn’t push. His hands did the talking for him, sliding down her spine, following the dip of her waist, the flare of her hips. His palms were rough, the skin abraded from years of gripping wrenches and turning bolts, but the way he touched her was anything but harsh. Every stroke was measured, intentional, like he was mapping her body anew.

When his fingers grazed the swell of her ass, Riley’s breath hitched. She could feel the heat of him behind her, the thick length of his cock stirring against her thigh, but he didn’t press further. Not yet. His touch remained maddeningly chaste, tracing the backs of her knees, the sensitive skin behind her calves. Riley squirmed, her nerves alight, her pussy already throbbing with the memory of how he’d filled her just minutes before.

“Reed,” she breathed, her voice muffled against the pillow.

“Shh.” His hands returned to her lower back, spreading the lotion in slow, sweeping motions. “Just feel.”

It was torture. The kind that made her arch into his touch, her body craving more even as her mind spun with the implications. His thumbs dug into the dimples above her ass, and Riley moaned, the sound raw and needy. Reed’s breath hitched in response, his cock twitching against her skin, but he didn’t rush. Instead, his hands slid upward, cupping the weight of her breasts from beneath, his thumbs brushing the undersides in teasing strokes.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. “Every inch of you. The way you respond to me- “ His fingers tightened just slightly, plucking at her nipples until they were hard peaks, aching for more. “Like you were made for this. For me.”

Riley whimpered, her hips lifting instinctively, seeking friction. Reed’s chuckle was dark, satisfied, but he still didn’t give her what she wanted. Not yet. His hands moved lower, sliding between her thighs, his fingers parting her slick folds with excruciating slowness. “You’re already wet again,” he groaned, his voice rough with restraint. “Greedy girl.”

She couldn’t deny it. Not when her body was betraying her so thoroughly, her clit throbbing, her inner walls clenching around nothing. “Please,” she begged, her voice breaking.

Reed’s fingers finally gave her what she craved, two of them sinking into her with a deep, possessive curl. Riley cried out, her back arching as he found that spot inside her, the one that made her see stars. His other hand slid beneath her, his palm cupping her mound, his thumb circling her clit in slow, deliberate strokes. “That’s it,” he murmured, his lips pressing to the nape of her neck. “Let me take care of you.”

His fingers worked her in a rhythm that was maddening in its precision- deep, then shallow, then deep again, his thumb never letting up on her clit. Riley’s nails dug into the sheets, her body trembling asthe pleasure built, coiling tighter and tighter. She could feel his cock, thick and heavy, trapped between them, but he didn’t push for more. This was about her. About proving he could give without taking. About showing her she could trust him with her body, her pleasure, her fragile, battered heart.

When the orgasm crashed over her, it was with a sob, her body convulsing around his fingers, her release soaking his hand, the sheets beneath her. Reed didn’t stop, drawing out every last shudder, every gasp, until she was boneless and spent, her breath coming in ragged pants.

Only then did he shift, his weight settling over her, his cock sliding through her slick folds, teasing her entrance. “Tell me you’re okay,” he demanded, his voice rough with need.

Riley turned her head, catching his mouth in a slow, deep kiss. “I’m okay,” she whispered against his lips. “I trust you.”

Reed’s groan was raw, primal, and when he finally pushed inside her, it was with a reverence that made her eyes burn. His thrusts were slow, measured, each one a promise. I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere. And for the first time in years, Riley let herself believe it.

Chapter Six: The Warmth of Connection

The warmth of Reed’s body still lingered against Riley’s skin as she lay curled into his side, her fingers tracing idle patterns against his chest. The room smelled of sex and sweat, the air thick with the kind of quiet that only came after something raw and unguarded. But beneath the afterglow, a familiar tightness coiled in her stomach. She exhaled slowly, pressing her palm flat against his ribs as if to steady herself.

“I need a minute,” she murmured, her voice rough.

Reed stilled, his hand pausing mid-stroke along her arm. He didn’t pull away, but she felt the shift in him- attentive, waiting. “Talk to me.”

Riley pushed up on one elbow, the sheet slipping down to pool at her waist. The cool air raised goosebumps along her bare shoulders, but she ignored it. “It’s not you. It’s just- “ She swallowed, her gaze flickering to the window where the late afternoon light slanted in golden bars across the bed. “I feel like I’m drowning in my own head. One second I’m here, with you, and the next I’m thinking about Emma’s science project or whether Jake ate anything green today or if I forgot to pay the electric bill- “ She cut herself off with a sharp laugh, rubbing her temples. “I can’t turn it off. And then I feel guilty for even wanting to turn it off.”

Reed studied her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he sat up, the muscles in his back shifting as he reached for his discarded shirt. “Okay.”

The simplicity of it made her blink. “Okay?”

He tugged the fabric over his head, the hem catching on the rough stubble along his jaw before he smoothed it down. “You’re saying you need space. I hear you.” His voice was low, steady. No push, no frustration- just quiet acceptance. It should’ve been a relief. So why did it make her chest ache?

Riley bit her lip. “I didn’t say I wanted you to leave.”

A corner of his mouth quirked. “Didn’t figure you did.” He stood, buckling his belt with efficient movements, then turned to face her. His gaze dropped to where the sheet had slipped further, exposing the curve of her breast, but he didn’t reach for her. “How about this? We take a beat. No sex. No expectations.” He jerked his chin toward the door. “You got a kitchen out there, right? Let me cook for you.”

She stared at him. “You cook?”

“Not like you, obviously.” His hands flexed at his sides, calloused fingers twitching like he was already imagining the weight of a knife in his palm. “But I can hold my own. Come on.” He extended a hand. “Trust me.”

The words hung between them, heavy with everything unsaid. Riley hesitated, then slid her fingers into his. The moment their skin touched, a spark of something- anticipation, fear, desire- shot up her arm. She let him pull her from the bed, let him lead her down the hall to the kitchen where the scent of garlic and basil still clung to the air from last night’s prep work.

Reed released her hand only to roll up his sleeves, exposing forearms dusted with dark hair. “What’ve you got?”

Riley wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly hyper-aware of her nakedness beneath the thin silk robe she’d grabbed on the way out of the bedroom. “Uh. Chicken. Mushrooms. Cream.” She gestured vaguely toward the fridge. “I was going to make a coq au vin later.”

“Too fancy.” He opened the fridge, bending slightly to peer inside. The fabric of his jeans pulled tight over his ass, and Riley’s mouth went dry. “We’ll do something simpler. Comfort food.” He straightened, holding up a carton of eggs and a block of cheddar. “Cheese omelets. Toast. You got a cast iron?”

She nodded toward the cabinet above the stove. “Second shelf.”

He moved with surprising ease, pulling out the skillet, turning on the burner. Riley hovered near the island, watching as he cracked eggs into a bowl with one hand, his focus absolute. The muscles in his shoulders shifted with each movement, the play of light and shadow defining the planes of his back. She’d seen him like this before- at the garage, bent over an engine, lost in the rhythm of work. But this was different. Intimate in a way that had nothing to do with skin.

“You’re staring,” he said without looking up.

“You’re good at this.”

He chuckled, the sound low and rough. “Not my first rodeo, Riley.” The whisk clinked against the bowl. “My mom taught me. Said a man should know how to feed himself- and the people he cares about.”

The words settled into her like a warm weight. She wet her lips. “What else did she teach you?”

Reed glanced over his shoulder, his eyes dark and knowing. “Patience.” He turned back to the stove, pouring the egg mixture into the skillet. The sizzle filled the silence. “And that sometimes the best way to get what you want is to stop chasing it.”

Riley’s breath hitched. She reached for the loaf of sourdough on the counter, her fingers trembling slightly as she sliced it. The knife bit into the crust with a soft crunch. “Is that what you’re doing? Stopping?”

The spatula scraped against the pan as he folded the omelet. “I’m giving you room to breathe.” He slid the food onto a plate, then turned to face her, leaning back against the counter. His gaze dropped to her hands- white-knuckled around the knife- and his voice softened. “But I’m not going anywhere, Riley. Not unless you tell me to.”

She set the knife down. The space between them felt charged, like the air before a storm. “What if I can’t give you what you want?”

Reed pushed off the counter, closing the distance in two strides. He didn’t touch her, but she felt the heat of him, the steady rise and fall of his chest. “What if,” he murmured, “what you want is the same thing I do?”

Her pulse jumped. “And what’s that?”

“To stop overthinking.” His hand lifted, hovering just shy of her waist. “To trust this.” His fingers finally brushed her robe, the fabric whispering against her skin. “To let go- even if it’s just for an hour.”

Riley’s breath came faster. The scent of melted cheese and buttered toast wrapped around them, rich and homey. She should step back. She should tell him to slow down. But then his thumb grazed the dip of her waist, and her body arched into the touch without permission.

“Reed- “

“Shh.” He tilted her chin up with his free hand, his thumb brushing her lower lip. “No decisions right now. Just this.” He pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth, light as a breath. “And this.” His lips trailed to her jaw, then her throat, where her pulse hammered against his tongue. “Tell me to stop.”

She couldn’t. The words dissolved before she could form them. Instead, she turned her head, capturing his mouth in a kiss that was equal parts hunger and surrender. Reed groaned, his hands sliding up to cradle her face as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping against hers with slow, deliberate strokes. Riley melted into him, her fingers clutching at his shirt, the fabric rough beneath her palms.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes were dark with desire, but his voice was steady. “Still no sex. But I’m not letting you hide from this.” He pressed his forehead to hers. “From us.”

Riley swallowed hard, her body thrumming with need. “Then what do you want?”

Reed’s smile was slow, wicked. “Feed you.” He stepped back, leaving her cold and aching. “Then I want you to feed me.”

The double meaning hung between them, thick and promise-laden. Riley’s knees nearly buckled. She watched, dazed, as Reed plucked a strawberry from the fruit bowl on the counter, his gaze never leaving hers as he bit into it. Juice beaded at the corner of his mouth, and he caught it with his thumb, then offered her the fruit.

She took it, her lips closing around the sweet flesh. The taste exploded on her tongue- bright, tart, alive. Reed’s pupils blew wide as she licked her lips, savoring.

“Good?” he rasped.

She nodded, her voice lost somewhere between her throat and the ache between her thighs.

“Then let’s eat.” His hand found the small of her back, guiding her to the table where two plates waited. “Because after this, Riley-“ He pulled out her chair, his breath hot against her ear. “I’m gonna need you to trust me with a hell of a lot more than just your kitchen.”

Chapter Seven: Recipe for Intimacy

The warmth of the omelet still lingered on Riley’s tongue as she reached for the plates, her fingers brushing against Reed’s forearm. He didn’t pull away, just watched her with that quiet intensity of his, the kind that made her pulse thrum beneath her skin. The kitchen light caught the silver threads in his hair, the way his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, exposing forearms dusted with dark hair and old scars- proof of a life spent working with his hands. She exhaled, steadying herself, then turned toward the small dining nook where a checkered tablecloth waited.

Her fingers fumbled with the cutlery, the weight of his gaze pressing into her back. The fork clinked against the plate as she set it down, and that’s when she felt it- the faint crinkle of paper in his pocket. Not the stiff fabric of a receipt or the smooth slide of a business card, but something thinner, softer. Curiosity got the better of her. She glanced over her shoulder, ensuring his attention was still on the stove where he wiped down the counter, then slipped her hand into the back pocket of his jeans.

The paper was worn, edges softened by time and touch. She pulled it free just as Reed turned, his brow furrowing when he saw what she held. “That’s- “ he started, but she was already unfolding it, her breath catching at the sight of looping, feminine handwriting.

“Reed’s Favorite Peach Cobbler,” it read, the ink faded but still legible. Beneath the title, the instructions were precise, almost loving- “butter must be cold, or the crust won’t flake right.” At the bottom, in smaller script: “For my boy, who works too hard. Love always, Mom.”

Riley’s throat tightened. “She wrote this for you.”

Reed exhaled through his nose, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah. Found it in her recipe box after she passed. Kept it- stupid, I guess.”

“No,” Riley said softly, tracing the words with her fingertip. “It’s not stupid.” She looked up at him, the weight of the card heavy in her palm. “You cook like her?”

A ghost of a smile touched his lips. “Tried to. She’d smack my hand if I overmixed the batter.” His voice roughened. “Said a man should know how to feed himself- and the people he cares about.”

The air between them thickened, charged with something deeper than desire. Riley set the card carefully on the table, then stepped closer, her robe whispering against her thighs. “You fed me,” she murmured. “Even when I didn’t ask for it.”

Reed’s hands found her waist, his thumbs brushing the tie of her robe. “You needed it.”

She did. More than food, more than words. She needed this-the solid warmth of him, the way his callouses caught on the silk as he tugged the knot loose. The robe parted, revealing the swell of her breasts, the dip of her waist, the way her nipples tightened under his gaze. His breath hitched, but he didn’t rush. Instead, his fingers traced the edge of the fabric, pushing it slowly off her shoulders until it pooled at her feet.

“Fuck,” he breathed, his voice raw. “You’re so goddamn beautiful.”

Riley shivered, not from cold, but from the way he looked at her-like she was something precious, something his. She reached for the hem of his shirt, her nails skimming the ridged muscle of his abdomen as she pulled the fabric up. He lifted his arms, letting her strip it off, and she took a moment to just look– at the dusting of hair across his chest, the way his nipples pebbled in the cool air, the old scar near his collarbone she’d never noticed before.

“What’s this from?” she asked, pressing her lips to it.

“Grease burn,” he rumbled, his hands sliding up her back, pulling her flush against him. “Fifteen. Thought I was invincible.”

She smiled against his skin. “And now?”

“Now I know better.” His mouth found hers, slow and deep, his tongue coaxing her lips apart. Riley melted into him, her hands exploring the hard planes of his back, the way his muscles flexed beneath her touch. He tasted like coffee and something darker, something him, and she couldn’t get enough.

When they broke for air, his fingers went to the waistband of his jeans. “Your turn,” he murmured.

Riley dropped to her knees in front of him, her hands trembling as she worked the button free. The zipper came down with a quiet hiss, and she hooked her fingers into the denim, dragging it over his hips. His cock sprang free, thick and heavy, the tip already glistening. She licked her lips, but Reed caught her chin, tilting her face up.

“Not yet,” he said, his voice rough. “Stand up.”

She obeyed, letting him guide her back to her feet. His hands went to her hips, then lower, slipping beneath the waistband of her panties. The lace was damp, clinging to her, and when he peeled it down her thighs, the cool air hit her swollen lips, making her gasp.

“Spread your legs,” he ordered, his breath hot against her ear.

Riley did, bracing her hands on his shoulders as he knelt in front of her. His thumbs parted her folds, exposing her to the air, to his gaze. “So fucking wet,” he groaned, leaning in. His tongue dragged through her slit, slow and deliberate, and Riley’s knees nearly buckled. “And you taste like heaven.”

She whimpered, her fingers tangling in his hair as he lapped at her, his stubble scraping the tender skin of her inner thighs. He took his time, savoring her, his tongue circling her clit before dipping lower to fuck her with shallow strokes. Riley rocked against his mouth, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

“Reed- please- “

He pulled back just enough to growl, “What do you need, baby?”

“You.” She tugged at his hair, desperate. “Inside me. Now.”

Reed stood in one fluid motion, lifting her onto the edge of the table. The dishes rattled as he pushed them aside, then stepped between her thighs, his cock nudging her entrance. “Look at me,” he demanded.

Riley forced her eyes open, locking onto his as he pushed inside. The stretch burned, perfect and deep, and she arched into it, her nails digging into his shoulders. “Oh god- “

“That’s it,” he groaned, bottoming out. “Take me just like that.”

He moved slowly, each thrust measured, each withdrawal a tease. Riley wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, her body coiling tighter with every roll of his hips. His mouth found hers again, swallowing her moans as his pace picked up, the table creaking beneath them.

“Touch yourself,” he ordered against her lips. “I want to feel you come on my cock.”

Riley didn’t hesitate. Her fingers found her clit, rubbing in tight circles as Reed fucked her, his thrusts growing erratic. “That’s my girl,” he praised, his voice a dark velvet rasp. “So fucking perfect. Gonna fill you up- “

The words sent her over. Her orgasm crashed through her, her walls clenching around him as she cried out, her body shuddering. Reed groaned, his hips stuttering as he buried himself to the hilt, his cum pulsing deep inside her.

For a long moment, there was nothing but the sound of their ragged breathing, the way his forehead rested against hers, his cock still twitching inside her. Then he kissed her- slow, deep, like a promise.

“No more hiding,” he murmured.

Riley smiled, her body still humming, her heart full. “No more hiding.”

Chapter Eight: Under the Hood

The kitchen air still clung to the scent of sex and peach cobbler, thick with the musk of their bodies and the sweet, syrupy residue of Reed’s mother’s recipe. Riley’s back arched slightly against the cool edge of the table where he’d just fucked her senseless, her skin still flushed, her thighs slick with the proof of how thoroughly he’d taken her. Reed stood between her legs, his cock softening but still glistening, his breath warm against the damp curve of her neck as he pressed a final, lingering kiss to her pulse point.

Her fingers traced idle patterns over the grease-stained fabric of his uniform, the name tag- Reed Martin– rough under her fingertips. The contrast of his work-worn clothes against her bare skin sent a fresh shiver through her. She could still feel the ghost of his stubble between her thighs, the way his tongue had lapped at her like she was something precious, something he couldn’t get enough of. But it wasn’t just the physical that had her chest tight. It was the way he’d looked at her when he’d said no more hiding, like she was the only thing in the world worth being honest for.

“Show me where you work,” she murmured, her voice still husky from moaning his name. The words slipped out before she could second-guess them, but the second they did, she realized how much she meant them. She wanted to see the place that shaped those hands- the ones that could dismantle an engine with precision and just as easily coax her body into trembling wreckage. “The garage. I want to see it.”

Reed stilled. His calloused fingers, still resting on her hip, flexed slightly, as if he were considering the weight of the request. For a man who measured his worth in the reliability of his labor, inviting someone into that space wasn’t just about showing off tools and lifts. It was letting her into the part of him that didn’t involve softness or recipes or the vulnerable crack in his voice when he talked about his mom. It was the part of him that was all grit and sweat and unapologetic control.

“You sure?” His thumb dragged along the dip of her waist, slow and possessive. “It’s not exactly- clean.”

Riley turned her head just enough to catch his gaze, her lips curling. “I’ve had your fingers inside me while you had motor oil under your nails, Reed. I think I can handle a little dirt.”

A rough sound escaped him- half laugh, half growl- and then his mouth was on hers again, hard and demanding, like he was sealing a deal. When he pulled back, his eyes were dark with something that wasn’t just lust. Pride, maybe. Or the same curiosity that had her pulse jumping. “Alright, sweetheart. But you touch nothing unless I say so.”

The command sent a fresh wave of heat pooling low in her belly. She slid off the table, her legs unsteady, and reached for her discarded blouse. Reed watched as she dressed, his gaze lingering on the way her nipples still pebbled against the fabric, the way her fingers fumbled slightly with the buttons. He didn’t offer to help. Just crossed his arms over his chest, the picture of a man who knew exactly what he was doing to her.

The garage was a short walk from the house, tucked behind a stand of pine trees that shielded it from the road. The moment Reed pushed open the heavy metal door, the scent hit her- gasoline and rubber, the metallic tang of oil, the faint bite of something electrical. It was a smell that clung to him, even after showers, and now she understood why. The space was dim, lit by a handful of overhead fluorescents that cast long shadows over the concrete floor. A classic Mustang sat up on the lift, its underbelly exposed, and tools were scattered across a rolling cart nearby, each one gleaming under the harsh light.

Reed stepped inside first, his boots echoing, and Riley followed, her flats silent against the concrete. She took it all in- the pegboard walls lined with wrenches and sockets, the calendar hanging crooked by the office door, the coffee mug with World’s Best Mechanic chipped along the rim. It was a space built for function, not comfort, but there was something undeniably him about it. The way everything had its place. The way the air hummed with the ghost of his focus.

“This is where you spend your days,” she said, more to herself than to him. She trailed her fingers along the fender of a restored Chevelle, the paint smooth under her touch.

“Most of ’em.” Reed’s voice came from behind her, low and rough. She turned to find him leaning against the hood of a pickup, his arms crossed again, his eyes tracking her every movement like she was something rare he’d just rolled into the bay. “You like it?”

She wet her lips. “I like you in it.”

That earned her another one of those sounds- a dark chuckle that promised trouble. He pushed off the truck and closed the distance between them in three long strides. Before she could react, he had her spun around, her back pressed against the Chevelle’s driver-side door, his body caging hers in. The metal was cool through her blouse, the contrast making her hyperaware of the heat radiating off him.

“Careful, Riley,” he murmured, his mouth brushing the shell of her ear. “Or I’m gonna think you came out here for more than a tour.”

She arched into him, her breath hitching as his thigh slid between hers, the denim rough against her inner thighs. “Maybe I did.”

His hand found her throat, not tight enough to restrict, just firm enough to remind her who was in charge here. In this space. With these hands. “You’re gonna be a good girl and let me show you around first.” His fingers tightened fractionally, just enough to make her pulse jump under his grip. “Then we’ll see about the rest.”

The promise in his voice had her clenching her thighs together, but she nodded, her gaze dropping to his mouth. “Yes, sir.”

Reed’s exhale was shaky, like the word had gone straight to his cock. He released her throat but kept her pinned with his body, his free hand sliding down to grip her hip. “First lesson,” he said, steering her toward the lift. “This is where I make things run right.”

The innuendo wasn’t subtle, and Riley bit her lip to keep from moaning. The lift was hydraulic, the Mustang suspended above them like a sleeping beast. Reed’s hand never left her as he guided her underneath it, the space just tall enough for them to stand without ducking. The scent of oil and metal was stronger here, mixed with the faint musk of his cologne. It was intoxicating.

“You ever been under a car before?” he asked, his voice a rough purr.

She shook her head, her back pressing against the cold wall of the bay.

“Then you’re gonna learn.” Before she could protest, he was on his knees in front of her, his hands gripping her waist. “Up.”

Riley barely had time to process before he’d lifted her, settling her onto the hood of a toolbox that had been rolled under the lift. The metal was unyielding under her ass, the position forcing her legs to spread just enough for Reed to step between them. He didn’t touch her. Not yet. Just braced his hands on either side of her hips, his biceps flexing under the fabric of his uniform, and looked up at her with a smirk that was all sin.

“Comfortable?”

She swallowed. “Not even a little.”

His chuckle vibrated through her. “Good.” Then his hands were on her knees, pushing them wider, exposing her to the cool air of the garage. The denim of her jeans was a thin barrier, and when his thumbs dragged along the inside of her thighs, she could feel how damp she was through the fabric. “You’re gonna sit right here, sweetheart, and watch me work. And every time you squirm, I’m gonna make you wait ten more minutes before I touch you.”

Riley’s breath hitched. “That’s not fair.”

Reed’s grin was feral. “Who said anything about fair?” He leaned in, his mouth hovering just above the fly of her jeans. His breath was hot through the denim, and when he spoke again, his lips brushed her, sending a jolt straight to her clit. “Now be a good girl and keep your hands on the toolbox. Or I will cuff you to the lift.”

The threat sent a fresh wave of arousal through her, her hips lifting involuntarily. Reed’s groan was low, approving, and then he was standing again, turning back to the Mustang like she wasn’t even there. Like she wasn’t spread out behind him, aching and desperate and his.

She lasted exactly three minutes before she broke.

Chapter Nine: Beneath the Surface

The flickering fluorescent lights cast jagged shadows across the garage walls, the hum of the old bulb struggling to stay alive. Riley’s fingers traced the rim of the chipped World’s Best Mechanic mug, her hazel eyes studying the faded letters as if they held a secret. The air smelled of oil and warm metal, the kind of scent that clung to Reed’s skin even after he showered. She turned the mug in her hands, the rough ceramic cool against her palms, and glanced up at him. “This one’s seen better days,” she murmured, her voice soft but probing. “Was it yours?”

Reed exhaled through his nose, his broad shoulders tensing beneath his grease-stained uniform. He wiped his hands on a rag, the motion slow, deliberate, like he was buying time. The question hung between them, heavier than the humidity in the air. His jaw worked, the stubble along it catching the dim light as he finally spoke. “My old man’s.” The words came out rough, like they’d been scraped from somewhere deep. “He got it from my mom when I was a kid. Used to drink his coffee out of it every morning before he opened the shop.” His fingers twitched, as if he wanted to reach for it, but he kept them curled into fists at his sides. “Dropped it the day he told me he was sick. Chipped the rim.” A bitter laugh escaped him. “Said it was fitting. Nothing stays perfect.”

Riley’s throat tightened. She set the mug down carefully, the clink of ceramic against the metal workbench too loud in the quiet. Before she could second-guess herself, she stepped into him, her body pressing against the solid warmth of his chest. His heartbeat thudded under her palm, steady but fast, like an engine revving just below the surface. “Reed,” she whispered, tilting her face up. His breath hitched when her fingers curled into the fabric of his uniform, pulling him closer. The garage, the mug, the weight of his past- it all faded into the background when his hands finally landed on her waist, his callouses rough through the thin fabric of her blouse.

He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Riley, I- “ But she didn’t let him finish. Rising onto her toes, she pressed her lips to his, slow and searching. His stubble scratched at her skin, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she deepened the kiss, her tongue tracing the seam of his lips until he groaned and opened for her. The taste of him- coffee and salt and something uniquely him– sent a shiver down her spine. His hands slid up her back, one tangling in her hair, the other gripping her hip hard enough to bruise. The kiss turned hungry, desperate, their teeth clacking together as they fought for control.

When they broke apart, breathless, Riley’s fingers trembled as she worked the buttons of his uniform. The first one popped free, revealing a strip of sun-browned skin dusted with dark hair. Reed’s hands covered hers, stilling them for a heartbeat. “You don’t have to- “ he started, but she cut him off with a sharp shake of her head.

“I want to.” Her voice was husky, her nails scraping down his chest as she pushed the fabric apart. The uniform fell open, exposing the broad expanse of his torso, the faint silver scars from years of manual labor, the trail of hair disappearing into his waistband. She leaned in, pressing her lips to the spot over his heart, feeling the way it hammered against her mouth. Reed’s breath came in ragged bursts, his fingers tangling in her hair as she kissed lower, her tongue dipping into the hollow of his collarbone.

“Fuck, Riley,” he groaned, his voice rough with need. His hands found the hem of her blouse, yanking it up and over her head in one smooth motion. The cool air of the garage pebbled her skin, but the heat of his gaze burned hotter. His thumbs hooked into the cups of her lace bra, dragging them down to free her breasts. The moment her nipples hit the air, they tightened into stiff peaks, aching for his touch. Reed didn’t make her wait. His mouth closed over one, his tongue swirling before he sucked hard, drawing a broken moan from her lips.

Her back arched, pressing herself deeper into his mouth as her fingers fumbled with his belt. The metallic clink of the buckle echoed in the empty garage, followed by the rasp of his zipper. She pushed his pants and boxers down just enough to free his cock, thick and heavy in her hand, the tip already glistening. Reed hissed when she stroked him, his hips jerking forward instinctively. “Easy,” he warned, but his voice lacked conviction, especially when she sank to her knees in front of him.

The concrete floor was cold against her bare knees, but she barely noticed. All she could focus on was the way Reed’s breath hitched as she ran her tongue along the underside of his shaft, the way his fingers twitched in her hair when she took him into her mouth. He tasted like salt and musk, the flavor of him making her core clench with need. She hollowed her heeks, taking him deeper, her lips stretching around his girth. His groan filled the garage, low and guttural, his hips rolling in shallow thrusts that she matched with eager bobs of her head.

“Fuck, just like that,” he growled, his voice rough with pleasure. His free hand gripped the edge of the workbench, his knuckles white. “Your mouth feels so goddamn good, baby.” The praise sent a thrill through her, her pussy throbbing in response. She moaned around him, the vibration making his cock jerk. His fingers tightened in her hair, guiding her pace, his breaths coming faster. “Gonna come if you keep that up,” he warned, but she only hummed in response, her tongue swirling around the head before taking him deep again.

Reed’s control snapped. With a growl, he pulled her off him, hauling her to her feet. His mouth crashed onto hers, his kiss bruising as he backed her up against the nearest car. The cold metal pressed into her bare back, but all she could feel was the heat of him, the hard length of his cock trapped between them. His hands were everywhere- cupping her breasts, pinching her nipples, sliding down to pop the button of her jeans. “Need you,” he muttered against her lips, his voice raw. “Need to be inside you.”

She didn’t argue. Couldn’t, even if she wanted to. Her jeans and panties were shoved down her thighs in one rough motion, leaving her bare and trembling against the car. Reed’s fingers found her pussy without hesitation, sliding through her slick folds. “So wet,” he groaned, circling her clit before plunging two fingers inside her. She gasped, her nails digging into his shoulders as he curled his fingers, hitting that spot that made her see stars. “Fuck, you’re tight. Gonna feel so good around my cock.”

He didn’t give her time to respond. In one swift motion, he lifted her, her legs wrapping around his waist as he pinned her against the car. The tip of his cock teased her entrance, and then he was pushing inside, stretching her deliciously. Riley cried out, her head falling back against the metal as he filled her inch by inch. “Reed- fuck- “ she gasped, her nails raking down his back.

“Say it again,” he demanded, his voice a growl in her ear as he bottomed out. “Say my name like that.”

“Reed,” she whimpered, her hips rolling against him, desperate for friction. “Please, move.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. With a groan, he pulled back and snapped his hips forward, driving into her with deep, punishing strokes. The car rocked with each thrust, the squeak of metal the only sound besides their ragged breaths and the wet slap of skin. Riley’s moans filled the garage, her body tightening around him, her orgasm building with every roll of his hips. “That’s it, baby,” Reed grunted, his lips finding her neck, his teeth grazing her pulse point. “Come on my cock. Want to feel you milk me.”

It was the dirty words that sent her over the edge. Her back arched, her nails digging crescents into his skin as her pussy clenched around him, her orgasm crashing over her in waves. Reed groaned, his thrusts turning erratic as he chased his own release. “Fuck, Riley- “ His voice broke, his body tensing before he buried himself deep and came with a shuddering groan, his cum filling her in hot pulses.

For a long moment, they stayed like that- breathless, sweaty, their hearts pounding in sync. Reed’s forehead rested against hers, his breath warm on her lips. “Fuck,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. “We’re gonna need a shower.”

Riley laughed breathlessly, her fingers carding through his hair. “Or we could just stay like this.”

Reed chuckled, the sound rough and satisfied. “Tempting.” But when he finally pulled back, his expression was softer than she’d ever seen it, the weight of his past momentarily lifted. And in that moment, the garage didn’t feel like just a workspace anymore. It felt like the start of something else entirely.

Chapter Ten: Scars and Slow Burns

The garage air clung to their skin, thick with the scent of oil and sweat, as Reed’s fingers traced the faint ridge of a scar along Riley’s hip. His touch was slow, deliberate, as if he’d just discovered something precious hidden beneath layers of time. She shivered, not from the chill of the concrete floor beneath them, but from the way his calloused thumb circled the old mark, his breath warm against her collarbone.

“Where’d this come from?” His voice was rough, but softer than before- like he was asking about more than just the scar.

Riley exhaled, her fingers curling into the fabric of his discarded shirt beside them. “Stupid teenage shit,” she admitted, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Me and my best friend thought we were invincible. Sneaked into this abandoned construction site after dark, climbing scaffolding like we were in some action movie.” She could still feel the adrenaline of that night, the way her heart had pounded as she’d misjudged the distance between beams. “Fell six feet onto a pile of rebar. Lucky it was just this.” She traced the scar herself, her nails grazing the raised skin. “My mom lost her mind. Grounded me for a month.”

Reed’s chuckle rumbled against her skin, his lips pressing to the scar before he pulled back just enough to meet her gaze. “Sounds like you’ve always been trouble.”

“Only when it’s worth it,” she murmured, her hand sliding up his chest, over the ridges of his own scars- ones she’d kissed earlier, ones that told stories he hadn’t shared yet. The garage light flickered above them, casting long shadows over the tools scattered across the workbench, the half-dismantled engine in the corner. None of it mattered now. Not the grease on the floor, not the weight of the day pressing in. Just this. Just them.

His fingers hooked into the waistband of her jeans, the last barrier between them. “You cold?” he asked, though his touch burned hotter than the summer air outside.

Riley shook her head, her pulse thrumming in her throat as she lifted her hips, letting him peel the denim down her legs. The cool concrete sent a shiver up her spine, but it was nothing compared to the heat of Reed’s gaze raking over her- bare now, completely, no secrets left between them. His own clothes followed, discarded in a heap beside hers, until there was nothing but skin and breath and the quiet, electric hum of anticipation.

He didn’t rush. Not this time.

Reed’s hands mapped her slowly, like he was memorizing every dip and curve- her ribs, the flare of her hips, the way her breath hitched when his fingers brushed the inside of her thigh. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he growled, low and rough, his mouth following the path his hands had taken. His lips sealed over her nipple, tongue swirling before he pulled back just enough to blow a stream of cool air over the wet peak. Riley arched into him with a gasp, her fingers tangling in his hair, holding him there.

“Reed- “ His name was a plea, a demand, but he only chuckled darkly against her skin, his teeth grazing the underside of her breast before soothing the sting with his tongue.

“Patience, baby,” he murmured, his hand sliding between her legs, fingers parting her with agonizing slowness. “We’ve got all night.”

She whimpered as he found her clit, circling it with just enough pressure to make her hips jerk. “Fuck patience,” she gasped, her nails scraping down his back. “I want you inside me.”

His breath hitched, his cock twitching against her thigh, but he didn’t give in. Not yet. Instead, his fingers slipped lower, teasing her entrance before retreating, again and again, until she was trembling, her thighs slick with need. “You’ll get me,” he promised, his voice a dark velvet rasp. “But first, I wanna hear you beg for it.”

Riley’s laugh was breathless, desperate. “You’re a cruel man, Reed Martin.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, finally- finally– sliding two fingers inside her, curling them just right. “But you like it.”

She did. God, she did. Her back bowed off the floor as he worked her, his thumb pressing firm circles over her clit while his fingers stroked deep, unhurried. The orgasm built slow and inevitable, coiling tighter with every drag of his calloused skin against hers. When it crashed over her, it wasn’t the explosive release from before- it was deeper, richer, pulling a broken sob from her throat as her body clenched around his fingers.

Reed didn’t let her come down. He kissed her through it, swallowing her moans, his free hand gripping her hip hard enough to bruise. “That’s one,” he murmured against her lips. “Now give me another.”

She should’ve argued. Should’ve flipped him onto his back and rode him until neither of them could walk. But the way he said it- like he knew she could, like he trusted her to- sent another wave of heat through her. So she let him roll her onto her stomach, let him pull her onto her knees, his hands spreading her open from behind.

“Look at you,” he groaned, his palm smacking her ass just hard enough to make her gasp. “So fucking wet for me.”

She could feel him- thick and heavy against her thigh, the tip dragging through her folds before he notched himself at her entrance. “Reed, please- “

He thrust in one smooth stroke, filling her completely, and Riley cried out, her fingers scrambling for purchase against the concrete. He didn’t move at first, just stayed buried inside her, his chest pressed to her back, his breath hot against her ear. “You feel that?” he rasped. “How perfect you take me?”

She could only nod, her body stretching around him, adjusting to the delicious ache. When he finally pulled back, it was slow- inch by torturous inch- before sinking back in just as deep. His pace was maddening, each thrust measured, each retreat leaving her empty and needy. She tried to push back, to force him faster, but his grip on her hips tightened, holding her still.

“No,” he growled. “We do this my way.”

And they did. For what felt like hours, he fucked her like that- deep, unhurried strokes that had her whimpering, her body coiled tight as a spring. Every time she got close, he’d slow further, his fingers digging into her skin, his mouth on her neck, her shoulder, the shell of her ear. “Not yet,” he’d murmur. “Not until I say.”

By the time he finally let her come, she was sobbing, her orgasm ripping through her so violently her vision whited out. Reed followed with a groan, his release pulsing inside her as he buried his face against her back, his teeth sinking into her shoulder just hard enough to leave a mark.

They collapsed onto the floor, a tangle of limbs and ragged breaths, the garage silent around them except for the distant hum of the fridge in the break room. Riley turned her head, pressing her lips to the scar over his collarbone- the one she’d kissed earlier, the one that matched the ones on his hands, his arms. Stories he hadn’t told her yet.

But she knew now. Knew the weight of them. Knew the way his body fit against hers like they’d been made for this- for slow, desperate nights in a garage that smelled like oil and sex, for scars and secrets and the quiet, terrifying promise of more.

Reed’s arm wrapped around her, pulling her close, his lips brushing her temple. “Stay,” he said, simple and sure.

And for the first time in years, Riley didn’t hesitate.

“Yeah,” she whispered, her fingers lacing with his. “I will.”