Total pages in book: 162
Estimated words: 158872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 530(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 158872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 530(@300wpm)
Seems like an appropriate punishment for a few seconds of daydreaming about my future with Molly. I hate insects. I’d rather cut an entire lawn with toenail scissors than deal with hornets.
“Let me do it, dipstick.” Remy smacks my chest as if he wants to stop me in my tracks. “You’re allergic to bees. What if you’re allergic to hornets too?”
“Good call,” I mutter, not at all surprised by his concern. He once watched me break into hives and swell up like Winnie the fucking Pooh after getting stung on the school playground.
Reality slams into my gut like a fist. Molly isn’t a daydream. She’s Remy’s sister. My loyalty to Remy should come first. Every time I give in to my obsession with her, I’m betraying not just a friendship, but a brotherhood that’s been my anchor since childhood.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Griff
We’re playing with fire.
That’s what the old country song currently spilling out of the speakers keeps reminding me.
No, I’m playing with fire. Every day since the racetrack, the flames seem closer and closer.
Almost getting caught should’ve been a wakeup call. I’m risking my friendship with Remy. Disrespecting him every time I’m with Molly—which is a lot lately. Behind Remy’s back. Neither of us mention him but the guilt lingers.
I get plenty of adrenaline rushes from fighting, racing, riding my motorcycle. I don’t need the added threat of getting caught fooling around with Molly.
Still, I can’t help myself.
He’s really going to kill me when he finds out I bought her a damn car. Giving it to her will be as good as announcing she’s my girlfriend.
But I can’t wait to see the look on her face when I hand her the keys.
And I’m really looking forward to spending a lot of time in the garage with her, fixing it up. Maybe I’ll tell him the night before her birthday party? Give him time to digest the news.
Something more suitable for my mood blasts through the speakers.
I’m at work in the garage, lying on a creeper under a ’65 Mustang, carefully loosening the bolts securing the shock absorber to the car’s chassis. Each turn of my wrench punctuates the aggressive guitar riffs and growly lyrics of All That Remains’ “The Air That I Breathe.”
The bing-bong of the bell signaling someone has stepped into the garage breaks my concentration. I ignore the intrusion. The other mechanics come in and out all day long. Any customers should go into the front office and find Jerry. No one’s gonna bother me in my corner of the garage.
A pair of pink leather high-top Chucks come into view.
My blood pounds.
Fucking pink sneakers get my heart racing.
Because I know they belong to one girl—Molly. I was with her when she bought them at the beginning of the school year.
I set the wrench on my chest and push myself out from underneath the car.
There she is, standing above me like an angel.
She flashes a shy smile and extends her hand as if to help me off the concrete.
“You think you can really lift me off the floor, Muffin?” I reach up and tickle my fingers against her palm.
“Lift? No. Assist?” She runs her gaze over me, and pink brightens her cheeks. “Maybe.”
Whatever’s making her blush, I like it. I take in her tight gray jeans, neatly cuffed above her sneakers, and her pink, flowery blouse. Somehow, she always looks cute, sexy, and innocent all at once. I grasp her hand but instead of letting her pull me up, I tug her down. The fender digs into my back as I sit up straighter and brace myself against the car. Laughing, Molly falls into my lap, straddling my legs and pressing her palms against my shoulders.
“What are you doing?” She gestures toward the office. “You’re going to get in trouble.”
“No one can see us here.” I thread my fingers into her hair and palm the back of her head, pulling her closer. “I’m happy to see you.” Lower, I add, “Been thinking about you all day.”
“Me too,” she admits. “Couldn’t wait for school to end. I asked Hayden to drop me off.”
“I would’ve picked you up.”
“I wanted to surprise you.” She curls one arm around my neck.
“You did. In the best way.”
“She’s coming back to get me in a bit. I know you have work to do.”
Work’s the last thing on my mind.
I pull her closer. The angle’s awkward as hell and she’s right—we shouldn’t get carried away here. Plus, she’s so clean and pretty while I’m all sweaty and dirty. It’s a crime to rub myself all over her. She takes a deep breath as if she doesn’t plan to come up for air any time soon and the second her soft lips brush against mine, any concerns about my greasy hands on her pristine outfit vanish.
In seconds, she’s melting against me, parting her lips, and I sweep my tongue against hers. She sighs into my mouth as I slide my hand to her hip, my thumb finding the edge of her blouse and sliding it out of my way. Just one touch of her silky skin against my rough fingers—that’s all I’ll steal for now. But the moment I make contact, she squirms and moans. She rolls her hips, grinding herself against me.