Chapter Four

The next morning, Naomi walked into King’s Garage, officially and totally freaked out. She looked around, uncomfortable in this overly masculine environment bristling with testosterone and unfamiliar smells and loud noises. She knew it was ridiculous, but she half-expected to see a bunch of guys in fatigues and black face paint hiding behind every door, wielding machine guns. Instead of a bunch of Rambos, though, all she spotted was two large guys standing next to a bike, revving it.

“Hear that?” said the guy with blond hair.

“Hear what?” the other man replied.

“Listen.” The man hit the gas again. “The timing is off.”

“Fuck, Chris.” The other guy wiped his hands on a filthy rag. “Only you can hear that, man.”

“Yeah, well, that’s the problem with it.”

“You can deal with it today?”

“Sure.” The guy named Chris turned around now, and saw Naomi standing there. “Oh. Hi. Can I help you?”

“Yes, please.” She cleared her throat. “I’m looking for Matt Kingston.”

The guy gave her a look with a pair of quite sexy gray eyes. “King’s upstairs. Who can I say is here?”

“Naomi Abbott.”

“OK, Naomi Abbott. I’ll get him and you just hang out, alright?”

Despite her nervousness and his size, she found herself smiling at the man; something about him just set her at ease. She nodded and watched him go up the stairs, then she looked around again, trying to look like she belonged here. Her sobriety coin was in her coat pocket and she held on to it tightly, drawing courage.

Chris knocked on King’s office door and poked his head in.

“Hey, Brooker," King said. "What’s up?”

“You’ve got a visitor. A woman. Suit, high heels, even a briefcase.”

“Yeah?” King looked puzzled. “Is the accountant supposed to come by today?”

“Dunno. She said her name’s Naomi.”

King jumped in his chair. “Naomi?”

“Yeah. Naomi Abbott.”

“Oh. Oh, OK.” King stood up, flustered. “Uh… send her up.”

“Sure thing, boss.” Chris smirked. “You might want to take a few minutes to freshen up, though.”

“Why?” King’s hand shot to his face. “Am I dirty?”

“Man, the things I could say to that, huh?”

“Shut it, Brooker. Gimme two minutes.”

“Uh-huh.” Chris left and closed the door behind him.

King ducked into the small attached bathroom, looked in the mirror. Sure enough, he had streaks of motor oil on his cheek. Cursing, he washed his face quickly, then stared at himself for a few seconds, wishing that he’d taken the time to shave that morning. Without pausing to wonder why he gave a damn about any of these things, he changed his t-shirt and splashed on a bit of cologne.

He had just settled back into his chair when he heard a soft knock at the door.

“Come in!” he called.

Slowly, it opened and there she stood. Blonde hair dazzling gold in the morning light, eyes warm brown velvet. Her skin was smooth and shining and it looked like she was barely wearing any makeup at all. King stared at her lips, thought maybe she had a bit of lipstick on them. He had the craziest urge to taste that mouth, just to see if it was as sweet and soft as it looked. In that prim little suit, her curves looked even fuller, rounder, lusher than they had the day before, and his rough fingers itched to explore them.

Goddammit, she is glorious.

He’d dreamed about her the night before, and woken up that morning with a hard-on that wouldn’t quit. It had persisted until he got to the shower, and that was when he’d closed his eyes and let her beautiful face come to him. The way she’d looked sitting next to him at Jax’s bar, the feel of her hand when he’d helped her to her feet. She’d been cool and reserved towards him at Dangerous Curves yesterday, and he wondered what exactly he’d have to do to get her to warm up, to loosen up.

His hand had gone to his cock and as he’d stroked it, he’d indulged in a fantasy of Naomi in the shower with him. Down on her knees, the water running over those amazing breasts, her perfect lips sliding up and down his length.

He’d imagined taking her delicate wrists in one large hand and pressing them above her head against the wall, holding her in place so he could watch her take him, taste him. His hand became her mouth, and his back had arched as he’d pumped harder, faster. His release had been almost painful, and he’d stood under the hot water, panting and already hard again when he thought about fucking her against the cool tile.

Mind out of the gutter now, man. Greet the lady like a gentleman, not a goddamn horndog who jerks off in the shower while thinking about her.