He was so strong, so muscular. His body was tall, powerful, his shoulders wide, his biceps defined. She could see those muscles under the white shirt he wore, the material stretched across his upper body. His waist was narrow, and the gray sweatpants he wore fit his powerful legs perfectly. She got all warm and wet down there.
And when he turned off the stove, plated the food, and turned to face her, she watched how he visibly tensed. His eyes did a onceover of her body, and chills raced along her arms and legs at how that one look made her feel.
Scars cleared his throat and gave her a smile, but it seemed tight. He gestured to the table, and she glanced at it for the first time since stepping into the room. She’d been so transfixed at the sight of Scars that she hadn’t noticed the spread he cooked.
“Sit down. Eat,” Scars said in a gruff voice, one that was deeper than normal.
When she was seated, he put the plated bacon on the table then gave her an empty one. Before she could serve herself, Scars started filling up the white, circular ceramic dish.
Bacon, scrambled eggs, pancakes, and a couple of scoops of fresh fruit were now overflowing it. She looked down at it, then looked at him. He sat across from her, filling up his own plate, his portions double the size of what he’d given her. Then again, he was so much bigger than her that his daily calorie intake had to be insane.
He stopped midbite and looked up at her then glanced at her plate. “You’re not hungry?”
She licked her lips and nodded. “I am.”
He grunted in approval. “You need food.” He pointed his fork at her plate.
She couldn’t help but smile, not bothering to remind him that she couldn’t possibly eat all this.
He was thoughtful and wanted her to be taken care of, well fed. And once again, warmth spread through her at that thought.
“I’m going to work on your car a little bit today.” His voice was husky, and she noticed he didn’t go very long without looking at her. It was like he needed to see her at all times.
“I appreciate everything you've done for me. I can’t thank you enough, could never repay you.” She cleared her throat, her belly in knots. “I’ll be out of your hair as soon as I can. I know I’m an inconvenience.”
The low growl he made had her eyes widening fractionally.
“Let me tell you something,” he said and set his fork down, leaning forward and bracing his elbows on the table. “You’re not an inconvenience, Hannah.” Scars spoke low but gently. “I like having you here. A lot.” It was his turn to clear his throat.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “I… like being here too.” And she did. God, she did. She liked being in Scars’ presence. He made her feel safe. He made her feel more than that.
He grunted as if that was settled then. After picking up his fork again, he gestured for her to start eating.
“I’m gonna try to work on your car. All day. The more I get done, the faster I can figure out all that needs to be fixed.” He focused on his plate and scooped up a big forkful. She watched as his forearm flexed from the simple act. A fresh wave of heat moved through her. “But I want you to know,” he said and looked at her, piercing her with a steely stare. “You’re welcome to stay here as long as you like. Even after your car is fixed… you don’t have to go.”
She was stunned by his words, shocked at how good they made her feel. “Why?” she whispered. “Why would you offer something like that to me?” She cleared her throat again.
He didn’t answer for long moments, just watched her, making her feel bare, exposed, as if he could see every single part of her. As if he knew her better than anyone else.
“Because I don’t want you to leave,” he said so clearly, so honestly, that she sucked in a breath.
Hannah’s cheeks felt hot, she couldn’t stop her smile, and she focused on her plate, picking up her fork and eating. A moment later, he continued to eat, but she could feel his eyes on her the whole time.
She hadn’t responded, even though she wanted to tell him that she didn’t want to leave either.
12
Scars had been working all day on her car, and Hannah felt guilty as she stayed inside and rested—his nicely put demand. She cleaned up after breakfast, had made some sandwiches for lunch, some fruit, made potato salad, which had been her mother’s recipe, and as she made it, a pang filled her chest. And when he kept telling her how good everything was, that it had been so long since someone had taken the time to cook solely for him, she felt pride and—again—that damn warmth.
She grabbed a glass from the cupboard and filled it with water, added some ice, then stepped outside to head to the garage. It wasn’t hot out, this light chill in the air with the promise of fall already here and the hint of winter on its heels. She heard the music before she even stepped out of the house, and the closer she got to where Scars worked, the louder it became.
Classic rock blasted through a speaker sitting on a wooden, scarred bench, and she could see Scars hunched over the hood of her car. He wore a dark T-shirt that looked like it had seen better days. His jeans were worn, a few holes at the knees, grease stains covering them. Her body warmed, softened at the sight, at the images that flashed through her mind.
She was embarrassingly aroused, feeling that need, the lust and desire claiming her higher and harder the longer she was with him. The way he watched her, tracked her with his eyes whenever she was near, made her blood feel like it was on fire.
He hadn’t noticed her presence yet, and she took that moment to appraise his very male, very hard and powerful body more. His boots were thick and black. They screamed “biker boots,” and she could imagine him on his Harley riding down the road, not a care in the world, everyone noticing him and staying away because he screamed danger.
The wind picked up and goose bumps popped out along her arms. She shivered, knowing it wasn’t just the chill in the air, but how he made her feel.
Hannah couldn’t lie, not even to herself, and say she didn’t think about him constantly, that she didn’t picture what it would be like to have him in every way imaginable, to touch him, to feel him touch her, moving over her… inside her.
She became wet, embarrassingly so, her panties soaked, the fire consuming her from the inside out.
After long moments, probably too long of her just standing there with this glass of water in her hand, Scars glanced up. Maybe he sensed her, but either way, when their eyes locked, she actually felt the air leave her violently.
The music couldn’t even drown out the sound of her rapidly beating heart, and as she awkwardly held out the glass, watched as his eyes flicked down to it before immediately looking back at her face, her cheeks heated in awareness.
He moved close to her, reached out to take the glass, and a shiver raced up her arm when their fingers brushed together. While watching her the entire time, Scars brought the glass to his mouth and downed all of it, never once taking his focus from Hannah. When he was finished, she found herself reaching for the glass, their fingers brushing again. God, that moment when he watched her while he drank seemed so erotic.
“Thanks,” he said in that sexy, deep voice that had her entire body clenching tightly, her muscles aching, and the air leaving her.