“Okay, Tink, start her up.” Leaning in through the driver’s window of the Bel Air, Tink turns the key and brings the engine in front of me to life. “Yeahhhhh, listen to her purr. Nice job, sprite.”

Tinker Bell cheers with our success before turning it off again and coming to stand by me. “All we need are the final touches, and she’s all done.”

I frown. “Speaking of which, shouldn’t that shipment have come in already? We only have one week left to install everything.”

“Don’t sweat it, I’m sure it’ll be here Monday,” she says, grabbing tools from the ground to put them away.

“Shit, I should’ve placed the order a lot sooner. But I paid for express shipping to make up for it, so we should be fine as long as it doesn’t get held up anywhere.” Scrubbing a hand down my face, I mentally kick my own ass for not planning this better. “Do me a favor when you go to the house and check the tracking. I want to know where it is and when it’s supposed to arrive.”

“Sure thing.” Turning around, she leans back with her elbows on the tool bench. “You know, if none of those stuffy asshats bid on the car, we could sell her for a mint. Enough to buy another one we can fix up.”

Wiping the grease from my hands on a rag, I raise a brow. “You’re telling me you think there’s a chance no one will bid on this car? Maybe the new paint fumes are going to your head.”

She shrugs. “Of course, they should. I’m just saying if they’re too dumb not to, is all.”

“Let’s hope that’s not the case, or it’ll ruin Wendy’s fundraiser.”

“She’s leaving after it’s over, right?” Tink’s doing her best to sound casual but hopeful would be a better word for it.

Lowering myself into a metal folding chair, I brace my arms on my thighs and prepare for an unpleasant conversation. “I don’t know yet. We haven’t had a chance to talk much about it. But there’s a good chance, yeah.”

“Oh,” she says, sounding a little too chipper. “Well, it was nice to have her here for a visit, but she does have her own life to get back to. Probably has lots of catching up with friends to do, a boyfriend waiting for her, things like that. Guess life in Neverland will be back to normal, then.”

“She doesn’t have a boyfriend,” I say, barely stopping my eye roll, “and whatever happens, things won’t be the same in Neverland again.”

Tink freezes. “What do you mean? Why not?”

I think about the ring box I unearthed from my tool chest at the shop. I cleaned the dust off it and polished what had been nestled inside, untouched, for an entire decade. I plan on finally giving it to her when I show her the finished car, when I show her that she can depend on me to always come through for her. Because while I might not be the most mature or grown up when it comes to certain things—or even most things—I’ll always be what she needs me to be. I will always love, cherish, and take care of her.

Blowing out a long exhale, I bite the bullet and reveal my intentions. “I’m going to ask Wendy to stay. If she says yes, then she’ll be a part of our family for good, Tink, and I’ll expect you to respect that and respect her,” I say firmly.

“And if she says no?” she asks slowly.

I pause, unsure if I want to drop this on her now. But there’s never going to be a good time for it. Tinker Bell won’t like my answer no matter when I tell her or how I do it. I can only hope that she’ll come around eventually. “Then I’ll go with her.”

Her green eyes flare wide. “What? You can’t leave Neverland! This is your home. She’s not your family, we are. I can’t believe you’d fucking abandon me and the boys for her.”

Shit, this isn’t what I want. I hate it when Tink gets pissed or upset with me about serious stuff. I know it’ll be an adjustment for her to be without me—I’ve been her person since she was a baby—but she’ll be fine. Maybe it’s even better for her if I do leave. If Wendy’s right about Tink’s feelings for me, she’ll be able to move on and find someone easier if I’m not around to confuse her.

Pushing to my feet, I hold my hands up. “Calm down, sprite—”

“Don’t you dare tell me to calm down, Peter Pan. I have the right to my feelings, and if I want to rant and scream at you then I’ll damn well do it.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to sound patronizing. I just don’t like seeing you upset.”

“Really?” she says sarcastically, narrowing her eyes at me. “You have a funny way of showing it.”

“Who wants Chinese?”

Tink and I spin to see Wendy standing under the open bay door in a cornflower blue sundress that matches her smiling eyes, holding up white plastic take-out bags like a game show hostess showcasing what we’ve just won. Sensing the tension in the air, she falters.

“Is this a bad time?”

Making a sound of disgust, Tink brushes by me, but I stop her with a hand on her arm. “Tink, wait. We still need to talk about this later.”

“What for? You’ve already made your decision. And we all know that the great and mighty Peter Pan always does what he wants.” She shakes me off and ignores Wendy as she storms off toward the house.

“I’m sorry,” Wendy says on a sigh. “That was about me, wasn’t it?”

Pulling her into my arms, I kiss her forehead. “No, it was about me. Don’t worry about it, I’ll talk to her after she cools down. What’d ya bring me?”

I relieve her of one of the bags, and we take them over to the counter. “Chicken Lo Mein, beef and broccoli, wonton soup, fried rice, and Crab Rangoon.”

The aromas of sautéed meat and veggies drenched in sauces hit my nostrils and make my mouth water. I didn’t realize how famished I was until now. “Nice. So then what are you gonna eat?”

“It’s for both of us,” she says, backhanding me in the stomach. Big mistake because I capture it and yank her in to tickle her sides. “Ahhh, Peter, stahhhhhp!”

I can barely understand her through the staccato beats of her laughter as she does her best to squirm out of my grasp. Remembering that she could only deal with tickling for a few seconds at a time, I take out a few containers of food while she catches her breath.

“You’re pure evil, you know that?”

I’m about to answer that I’d love to show her just how devilish I can be when my phone rings in my pocket. It’s Hook, and I’ve been waiting to hear back from him. “Hold that thought, baby, I have to take this.”

Kissing her on the cheek, I move to where the Bel Air sits in the middle of the bay and swipe my thumb to connect the call. “Hey, man, what’ve you heard?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?” I repeat in disbelief. “It’s been a whole week, and you’re telling me that none of your slimy, underbelly associates have heard about anyone messing with Lily?”

“That’s what I said. Look, if you don’t like my results then I suggest you get your own fucking contacts. I got enough on my plate as it is. I don’t need your ungrateful bullshit.”

I plow a hand through my hair, no doubt streaking it with traces of grease, and blow out a breath. “Sorry, man, I’m just worried about her. If someone’s fucking with her car…”

“I know,” he says in a low voice. For all his acting like he doesn’t give a shit about anyone, Hook’s still protective of his own. It’s the rest of the world he truly doesn’t give a shit about. “I’ll let you know if I hear anything.”

“Thanks. Hey, what’s going on with Starkey?”

Two arms snake around my waist from behind, and I feel her lips press into the dip of my spine over the thin cotton of my wifebeater. Unable to resist, I guide her in front of me and kiss her neck as I listen to Hook.

“Nothing. They won’t release him, won’t let me see or talk to him. They’ve taken away all his rights. And they call me the criminal.”

Wendy pulls back and whispers, “Is Starkey out?” I shake my head and her brows knit together. “John’s LPD. Maybe he can look into it for us.”

“No way,” Hook snarls into my ear. “No London cop is gonna give two shits about a Pirate, including her kiss-ass brother. Tell her no fucking thanks and to keep her nose—and especially him—out of my business.”

When the line goes dead, I pocket my phone. “He says thank you, and he really appreciates your help.”

Smiling, she says, “Aww, see? He’s not such a bad—” She breaks off and narrows her blue eyes at me. “That’s not what he said, is it?”

I chuckle and shake my head as I walk her backward. “Not even close.”

“Ugh, men.”

“I only want you thinking of this man right now.” Her legs hit the front of the Bel Air and suddenly all I can think about is fucking her on top of it. I want to devour her like the rich pricks I’m building it for devour their caviar. To temporarily defile the car as I defile her until she comes so hard, she sees stars and speaks in tongues.

“It’s a good thing that giant hood ornament hasn’t come in yet or this would’ve been a lot more uncomfortable for you.”

Grabbing her waist, I easily lift her onto the hood and lean in to claim her mouth, but she stops me with a hand on my chest. Twisting around to look at the car, she starts shooting off rapid-fire questions. “Wait, what else needs to be done? Why hasn’t the hood ornament come in? Are there other things that haven’t come in?” She gasps. “Oh my God, there’s no seats! Or a steering wheel!”

Framing her face with my hands, I guide her attention back to me. “Stop worrying, it’ll all be done on time. Come by next Thursday night, so I can show you how pretty it is.” And then we can talk about our future together.

Her eyes are wide, and I can see her mind racing as she runs through all the disastrous scenarios. “Peter, if I don’t have a car to auction off next Saturday, I might as well kiss Second Star Events goodbye. My reputation will be ruined, I—”

“You named your company Second Star Events?” I ask huskily. At every turn, this woman undoes me. Ten years apart didn’t stop her from keeping so many things about our relationship alive. And I’d chosen to bury it deep in my mind and in the back corner of an unused tool chest drawer. Out of sight, out of mind was the best way I’d found to cope with the aching loss. I could pretend I had everything I wanted in life as long as that ring box wasn’t staring at me. I should’ve gone after her. What a waste of precious time.

She nods and traps that poor lower lip between her teeth. This time I don’t use my thumb to rescue it. I kiss it, embracing her lip with mine, sucking on it lightly until it’s free. “I won’t let you down. You’ll have your beautiful Bel Air, finished and ready for bidding. I’ll prove it next Thursday.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

Wendy pulls me in by the scruff of my neck, slamming her mouth to mine, and fuck yes, that’s hot. If she reacts like this every time, I’ll make it my life’s mission to promise her everything under the sun and stars. Then I’ll damn well deliver.

I follow her lead, and I then take it. She instantly submits, eagerly opening to my hungry demands, letting me control the pace, the depth, the intensity. I bite her lip—the one she loves to imprison so much—staking my claim on every inch of her body with a single, sharp nip. This lip is mine, everything is mine. Her wanton moan slips over my tongue and down my throat. The vibrations set my blood on fucking fire and rushing straight to my cock.

I kiss and bite down the column of her neck as I reach under the skirt of her dress, up her smooth thighs and grab hold of her ass.

“Sweet Christ,” I rasp out. “A thong?”

She blushes. “You like?”

“Yeah, I fucking like.” But I’ll like them even better off. Hooking my fingers in the sides, I pull them all the way down and tuck the tiny scrap of blue lace into my pocket for safe-keeping. Sliding my hands up her dress again, I guide her thighs open.

“Hey, you can’t keep my—”

Before she finishes her sentence, I use my thumbs to part her folds and massage her clit. Her words melt into nothing more than a moan as her head drops back on her shoulders. “What was that, baby? I can’t what?”

“N-nothing,” she gasps when I insert a finger into her tight pussy. “Do whatever you want.”

My lips twist into a satisfied smirk, and I drop to my knees in front of her. “Plannin’ on it.”

The scent of her arousal makes my mouth water more than the take-out did, and if I could figure out a way to do it, I’d survive on nothing but Wendy for the rest of my life. With my free hand, I push her skirt against her belly, giving us both an unfettered view of my finger working in and out of her slick channel.

She braces herself with her arms behind her and stares down her body, watching my invasion with lust-bright eyes, her breasts rising and falling with shallow breaths. I add a second finger, then a third.

“Oh God, Peter,” she groans.

Pumping and twisting, I pick up my speed and graze her G-spot on every withdrawal. Her juices bathe my hand and drip onto the hood, and it turns me on knowing this car will have my mark on it in more ways than just my craftsmanship.

Unable to deny myself any longer, I lean in and taste her. My tongue swipes over her swollen nub, causing her to cry out and grab onto my head. She holds me in place like she’s afraid I’ll back away—which I suppose is fair since I enjoy teasing the hell out of her until she doesn’t remember her own name or what planet we live on—but she doesn’t have to worry this time because I’m not going anywhere.

Using everything in my sexual arsenal, I continue to fuck her with my fingers and tongue. I plunge and lick and suck and bite. Her arousal consumes me. The scent of her in my nose, the feel of her on my skin, and the sound of her keening moans—all of it makes my cock hard and my balls ache with the need to bury myself deep inside her. But not until I’ve made her come.

“Fuck, Wen, you taste so good,” I growl between swipes with my tongue. I need more, and my fingers are in the way, so I pull all the way out and move them down, spreading her juices onto the hyper-sensitive nerves around her puckered hole. She jumps in surprise, but my hand holds her steady. “Easy, angel, I’m only touching.” For now, anyway. Someday I hope she’ll let me inside, but we have plenty of time to work our way up to that. “Take a deep breath and focus on the pleasure.”

She nods, her lids at half-mast, her hair a wild mess of waves around her shoulders. I pierce her sweet cunt with my tongue and eat at her like a man starved. Her inner walls get tighter, her legs begin to shake, and she gets a whole lot louder as her climax approaches.

“Yes, right there, oh my God, don’t stop, please don’t ever stop.”

I wouldn’t stop now even if the gates of Hell opened and threatened to swallow me whole. Instead, I double my efforts, adding a slight pressure to the strokes over her hole and using my other hand to rub her clit while I devour her with my mouth. The fist in my hair tightens, but the pain in my scalp only turns me on more.

She shouts my name and curls her body forward, flooding my mouth with an ambrosia all her own. I groan as I drink every drop, and still I want more. As the orgasm sweeps through her, causing her to shake with mini-convulsions on the hood of the ’55 Bel Air, I don’t let up. I keep going and going, pushing her back toward the brink of another climax before the first one even has the chance to die down.

“Oh God, Peter, what are you— No, I can’t— It’s too much, I—” She tries pushing my head away, but I block her hands with mine and then link our fingers as I stare up her body, my lips and tongue proving her wrong. She can come again.

And she does.

With her mouth in the shape of an O, her brows drawn, and her hands squeezing mine for support, she comes hard. After several seconds, I slow my motions and gentle my pressure, easing her through it until most of her aftershocks are gone.

Standing up, I strip off my shirt and use it to clean my face before tossing it to the side. If I thought making Wendy come twice would zap the energy out of her, I was dead wrong. Grabbing onto my shoulders, she pulls me in for a punishing kiss. When she breaks away, she pulls a condom out of her bra and holds it between us.

I break into a huge smile. “Have you been taking lessons from the Boy Scouts?” Despite her brazenness two seconds ago, my teasing makes her blush, and it drives me crazy.

“Shut up, put it on, and…”

My eyebrows shoot up to my hairline. Hell no, I’m not letting her stop there. I want to hear her say it. I need to hear her say it. Snatching the latex ring from her hand, I rip it open and sheathe my cock in record time after opening my fly and shoving my jeans past my hips. Gripping my hard cock, I set the head at her entrance and wait.

“And what, Wen?”

She raises her chin a notch. “You know what.”

I shake my head. “I shut up. I put it on. Tell me what you want me to do next.”

Just when I think she can’t bring herself to say it, a sly grin tilts up one side of her lush mouth. Then she leans in and whispers in my ear, “Fuck me, Peter Pan.”

Jesus fucking Christ, I think I may have died and went to Heaven. Those sinful words from my angel’s lips send me into overdrive, and before I know what I’m doing, I flip her position and have her bent over the hood with a foot up on the bumper. One hand squeezes my cock and presses the tip against her pussy as my other one fists her hair and pulls back, arching her beautifully for me. She moans and tries to push back on my dick, but I don’t let her.

“Say it again,” I rasp out against her ear.

Wendy turns her head to lock eyes with me over her shoulder, her words pouring out slow like warm honey. “Fuck me, Peter.”

“Hell yes.” I drive home in a thrust so powerful it moves her several inches higher onto the hood. She cries out and begs me for more, but it’s an unnecessary plea because I’m already pounding into her, over and over—harder, deeper, faster.

I don’t think I’ve ever been so turned on in my life as seeing Wendy Darling bent over the hood of a classic car that I poured my blood and sweat into rebuilding, my large hands gripping her bare ass as I watch my shaft disappear between her swollen pussy lips.

“Gonna come again,” she pants.

“That’s it,” I say, adjusting my hold on her, so I can pull her hips back as I thrust forward. “Do it, baby. I wanna feel you coming on my cock.”

She screams, and just as I feel her pulse around me, fire shoots down my spine. My balls draw up tight a second before they unload, my cum shooting through the tip of my dick so hard I see double for a good thirty seconds.

Completely spent, we collapse onto the hood and laugh as we try to catch our breath.

“Should we be this winded after sex?” she asks.

“Baby, that wasn’t just sex. That was Olympic-level screwing is what that was.”

She giggles. “You can’t say the F-word to me now that we’re done, can you?”

Somehow, I find the strength to push myself up. “Look who’s talking,” I say, smacking her ass for good measure. She squeals and twists her body, dislodging my softening cock, making me hiss through my teeth. “Well, that was abrupt.”

“Serves you right for spanking me,” she says with a fake pout.

Straightening, she flips the skirt of her dress down, and I instantly regret not taking the whole thing off her, so she wouldn’t have as easy of a time redressing. I make quick work of getting rid of the condom and putting myself back together. Then I pull her into my arms and drop my hands to her ass cheeks. “You have no idea what a real spanking is, but if you’re interested, I’d be happy to put you over my knee and turn these babies bright pink.”

Her blue eyes spark, and she bites her lip for a split second before she schools her expression. I start to get hard again just thinking about it, but Wendy changes the subject on me. “Are you going to return my panties?”

“Hell no, these are mine now.” I smile down at her. “I’m thinking I might start a collection.”

“Then I’m thinking I’ll switch to cotton granny-panties.”

I frown. “That’s not funny, Wen.”

“Neither is stealing a lady’s panties, Peter.” She arches a challenging brow and holds out her hand.

Laughing, I fish them out of my pocket. But instead of handing them to her, I crouch down and help her back into them. Once they’re firmly in place—Christ, those look so fucking hot on her—I give her a quick kiss on the nose. “There, now that you’re all put together, what do you say we eat our cold Chinese food?”

“Oh, I’m not actually hungry. I ate before I came over.”

Okay, now I’m confused. “You said you brought lunch for the two of us.”

“I lied, silly man. I was in the mood for something much more decadent than Chinese, hence the condom in my bra. It’s so cute you thought sex was your idea, though.” Rising up on her on tip-toes, she kisses my cheek, then gives me a brilliant smile. “I have to go, but enjoy the food. I’ll call you later.”

And with that, she saunters her fine, thong-clad ass out of my garage bay and into the midday sun, leaving me utterly speechless except for the laughter that doesn’t stop until I stuff my face with lo mein noodles.

Sex on the hood of a car in the afternoon with the woman of my dreams, followed by take-out she brought over as an excuse to have said sex? Life doesn’t get any better than this.