Chapter Fifteen

Lexi

I’ve been home from work for maybe fifteen minutes when a knock sounds at my door. It was a crazy busy Saturday with several walk-ins trying to squeeze in a quick cut, color, or whatever before Christmas. Even though I had a full schedule, I was still able to add two kids’ cuts and help a frazzled mom who tried an at-home dye kit the night before.

It didn’t turn out so well.

When I open the door, I find the world’s ugliest Christmas tree. “What the hell is that?”

Linkin steps inside the entry, forcing me to step aside to let him and his tree in. “It’s a Christmas tree.”

“That’s the ugliest, saddest tree I’ve ever seen,” I retort as I shut the door. “Charlie Brown would even be embarrassed by this tree.”

Linkin’s inside the living room, positioning the tree, which is already nailed to a wooden stand, in front of the picture window. “Apparently, the selection isn’t so great when you wait to buy a tree until the week before Christmas.”

“Why did you buy it?” I ask, shaking my head at what can only be described as a small tree with only four branches.

“Because you didn’t have one,” he states matter-of-factly as he turns the tree to display its best side.

Of which there isn’t one.

When he turns, his dark chocolate eyes find mine, raising my blood pressure and making my body hum with excitement. Before I even register that he’s moving, Linkin stands before me, towering over me like a giant, and takes me in his arms. I wet my lips without realizing it just before his own lips come down and claim mine. It’s a slow, gentle kiss, but I still feel it clear down to my toes.

“Hi,” he whispers, pulling back slightly.

“Hey. You bought me a tree.”

“I figured you should have one.”

“It’s kinda ugly,” I say with an easy grin.

“True, but she has potential. Here,” he says, turning and grabbing the paper bag he had under his arm when he came in.

“What’s this? The fire extinguisher for when this bad boy goes up in flames?”

“No, Negative Nelly, it’s your decorations,” he says, tapping my nose.

“You bought me decorations?” I ask, unable to mask the surprise.

“Actually,” he starts before clearing his throat and looking a little sheepish. “No. I couldn’t find anything left at the store that wasn’t crap, so I made a call.”

“You made a call?” ask, reaching for the bag. “Like, to your people?”

“Yeah,” he says as I pull homemade construction paper garland out of the bag. “My mom helped my brothers make some ornaments and garland-y stuff to hang from the branches.”

I pull the brightly colored chain-linked paper from the bag, smiling widely as I go. When I reach the end of the garland, I pull out several homemade ornaments. There are many paper swords and even a few plastic Army guys tied with string. It melts my heart.

“That’s very sweet of you, and them. Thank you,” I say, pulling him in for a hug.

“Don’t tell anyone. I have a reputation to uphold.”

“Your secret is safe with me,” I tell him, but suddenly it feels like I’m talking about more than just his soft side. It feels deeper, and even though I don’t know much about Linkin, except what he shows on the surface, I feel like I’m safe with him. And I’m not just talking physically.

“Come on,” he says. “I have about forty-five minutes before I have to head over to Lucky’s. Shouldn’t take us longer than,” he glances at the sad tree up and down, “five, six minutes tops to decorate this beast of a tree.”

I grab the garland and join him in front of the tree. “No lights?”

Linkin shakes his head and lowers his voice to a whisper. “No way. I bet if you even breathe the word match that it would ignite.” Standing up tall, he adds, “And since the only thing I plan to ignite is your loins, I figured I’d leave the twinkling Christmas lights off.”

His comment makes me roll my eyes. “Such a man,” I grumble.

Linkin takes me in his arms again. “All man, baby. One hundred percent, pure…man,” he grunts, biting my earlobe and sending a shot of lust racing through my bloodstream.

“Come on, Firecracker. Let’s get her decorated before I need to leave. If we hurry, we’ll have time for more kissing,” he adds with a wink before reaching for the end of the garland rope.

More kissing?

Well, you don’t have to tell me twice.

 

* * *

 

“He brought you a tree?” Jaime asks, a princess doll in one hand and a Cabbage Patch Kid in the other. “Which one?” she adds, directing this question at Payton.

“She has a million dolls,” our oldest sister says, giving Jaime a look.

“You’re right. I’ll get her both,” Jaime coos, referring to Dean’s daughter, the only child in the family, and places both dolls into her cart. Turning towards me she adds, “Don’t ignore the first question. He brought you a Christmas tree?”

“He did,” I confirm, dropping a hairdresser play set I found one aisle over into the cart. It’ll go great with the apron I found online and had embroidered with her name across the front. I smile just thinking about that purchase; it matches the one I use in the salon.

“Stop buying her more toys!” Payton exclaims. “We’re going to have to add onto the house to fit all of her new things.”

“That’s probably not a bad idea,” Jaime adds. “Wait ‘til you see what Grandma got her.” Jaime smiles mischievously, a wicked little gleam in her eyes brightening her face.

“What do you expect, Pay? She’s our first niece,” I acknowledge, not even trying to hide the small stuffed cat I just found amongst the display of stuffed dogs.

“I get it,” Payton concedes. “I went a little overboard myself. Back to the tree.”

“It the barest, ugliest tree I’ve ever seen,” I confirm, unable to hide the smile on my face. “And his little brothers made the ornaments.”

“Why don’t you have a tree?” Payton asks, trying to steer us away from the toy aisle.

“I left everything at Chris’s. Honestly, I didn’t really want it. I pretty much left everything except my personal belongings and a few things that were mine before we moved in together.”

Following behind my two oldest sisters, I continue, “You know, that’s why I don’t really understand why he’s dragging his feet on the divorce. We waived the mandatory six-month separation. I didn’t ask for anything. I left him all of the furniture and everything. I took my car, which I pay for, and asked for him to buy me out of my half of the house. We split the checking and savings accounts and the investments that he made on our behalf. Anything in his name is his. It’s the cleanest, tidiest divorce. All he needs to do is sign.”

“I don’t get it,” Jaime agrees.

“Anyway, I’m going to ask my attorney to follow up with his once more, but heading into Christmas, it might not be as quickly as I’m hoping.”

“At least you can have the sex with your hot neighbor until all of this blows over,” Payton adds with a wide grin, using the terminology that Grandma uses when referring to sex.

I quickly turn my attention to an aisle end cap, desperate to look anywhere but at my sisters. They’ll read me like a book.

“Lexi?” Jaime says slowly. “Tell me you’re having the sex with your gorgeous neighbor with abs you could lick chocolate syrup off of.”

Clearing my throat, I turn to face the two women who helped raise me. “We haven’t had sex yet.” Yet, being the keyword.

“Seriously?” Jaime exclaims at the same time Payton hollers, “What?”

“How can you not be having the sex? The way that man was looking at you that night he stripped, I’m surprised you aren’t taking a ride on the bologna pony every day!”

“Would you stop saying the sex?” I beg my oldest sister.

“And don’t ever say bologna pony again,” Jaime adds.

“Sorry,” Payton says, waving her hand. “We’ve had to be careful what we say around Brielle, and I figured asking for a ride on the bologna pony was a hell of a lot better than begging Dean to fuck me against the wall.”

“Jeez, that’s…descriptive. Anyway, we’re just not there yet.”

“That’s okay, Lex. Not everyone has to be a hobag like Payton here and sleep with the guy on the first night,” Jaime chimes in.

“Don’t get me started, hussy,” Payton retorts goodheartedly.

My sisters continue talking about sex, but my attention falls on the end cap I stopped in front of. I didn’t even realize I was looking at the display until this moment. A wide smile crosses my face as I grab two of everything here and throw it in the cart. Jaime glances my way, giving me a questioning look, and I just shrug.

Two little heathens are going to love this stuff.

 

* * *

 

It’s Christmas Eve when my phone rings. I took the afternoon off so I could get ready for dinner at Dad’s house tonight. Most of my clients are getting ready for their own Christmas gatherings anyway.

I’m stunned silent as I listen to my attorney share his news, a weird sense of relief washing over me. I don’t even remember writing down the information and dates he provides, but after I hang up my cell phone, I look down and find the notes I took. Gazing down at the details, I let out a squeal and hug that piece of paper to my chest.

Grabbing my purse and making sure that I have my keys, I fly out the door, heading towards the door of a big source of comfort and companionship. A sudden pang of sadness fills my gut when I realize that I’m not standing in front of my twin’s door. Instead, I’m about to knock on Linkin’s apartment, eager to share my good news with the man who is quickly becoming a great friend.

More than a friend.

Is this what Abby felt when she went all-in with Levi? A weird sense of happiness mixed with sadness? I’m excited for this budding new relationship I have (even if it’s still in the non-sexual stage), but also a little dejected that my twin sister isn’t my go-to person.

In the last week, we’ve spent every spare minute together. Well, as much as we can in between his two jobs, my job, him helping his mom with his brothers, and pre-holiday gatherings around town, which really isn’t that much time. But we’ve talked on the phone, texted throughout the day, and had a couple of late dinners while he was watching Jeff and Jack.

My knock goes unanswered, and sadness sweeps in. Should I go across the hall? I know Abby is there and would be tickled to hear my news. Hell, she’d probably start pouring the margaritas, ensuring we were heading full-steam ahead into sloshed before Christmas Eve appetizers.

But this is something I want to share with Linkin first.

So with my keys in hand, I head down towards my car. I know he’s off tonight from Lucky’s, which means he can only be at one place. With my purse thrown onto the passenger seat, I start my car and head out of the parking lot, my foot a little heavy on the gas.

The closed sign is showing as I pull into the parking lot for Stapleton Auto. Disappointment starts to settle into my stomach as I steer my car to the side lot to turn around. But as I round the building, I see his old Blazer parked by a door marked for employees. Without allowing myself any time to reconsider, I park next to his truck and turn off the engine.

The late afternoon air has a salty chill as it blows off the Bay and it has me pulling my sweater a little tighter around my neck. When I reach the door, I contemplate knocking, but decide on just trying the handle, since he could be working on something that’s loud. Of course, startling him if he’s distracted probably isn’t the way to go either.

I opt to try the handle first, deciding to knock if the door is locked. A smile graces my lips when I realize the door is unlocked. As I pull it open, classic rock music filters through the open door, instantly reminding me of the night he stripped to the old Warrant song.

“Hello?” I holler as I step inside, the heavy door slamming shut angrily behind me.

The shop is large with car parts and tools of all sizes scattered around. There’s a newer Mustang stripped down to primer in one bay and a Honda Accord with damage to the front end in another. What pulls my attention now is the sleek, sexy, and oh so dangerous Plymouth Hemi Cuda in the center of the room.

I think I’m in love.

“Can I help you?” I hear over the music just before a creeper rolls out from beneath the Cuda.

I’m struck speechless at the sight of him. He looks utterly edible in his tight t-shirt streaked with dirt and grease, well-worn jeans with grimy handprints on the thighs, and a pair of heavy black work boots that look like they’ve seen better days. But what holds my attention now is that little sliver of stomach that’s teasing me, enticing me, with its taut, tanned skin and dark little happy trail.

Oh, that delicious little happy trail.

“Hey,” he says, humor laced in his greeting.

“Oh. Hey.” I lift my gaze to land on his smiling face, a streak of grease swept across his cheek, just above his beard. Linkin wipes his hands on a red shop towel, that cocky smile ever present. My sights return to the car behind him, my fingers twitch to touch its powerful lines and sexy curves. “She’s gorgeous,” I say, unable to stop myself as I run my fingers along the hood.

“That she is.” Linkin stands up and stretches his arms above his head. I’m rewarded with another mouthwatering and panty-melting view of his stomach. This time, I catch a glimpse of that delectable V that starts at his hips and stretches downward towards his groin.

Oh, how I’d love to get an up-close, maybe even hands-on, view of that V.

“What brings you here on Christmas Eve?” he asks, grabbing a bottle of water from the counter and drinking almost half of it in one long pull. The way his throat muscles work and his Adam’s apple bobs lulls me into some sex-crazed frenzy that makes me want to hump his leg like a dog and pant like I’m in heat.

It’s embarrassing.

“Lexi?” he asks, his eyebrows shooting skyward, the corner of his lip curving upward.

“Oh! Sorry,” I reply, feeling slightly embarrassed. “So, my attorney called me just a bit ago. He had great news and I needed to share it with someone, so I thought I’d stop by and see what you were doing.” I hope I sound more casual than I do in my own head. I also don’t mention the fact that I bypassed my own sister’s apartment just so I could tell my big news to Linkin first.

“Well, you found me working on this beauty,” he says, wiping speckles of dust off the headlight.

“She is gorgeous,” I answer, unable to stop touching the car. “A 1970 Hemi Cuda with a 440 V-8 big block engine.”

“God, you’re sexy as fuck when you talk car,” he says, his voice deep and dirty. This voice draws my attention and makes me smile.

Suddenly, he’s close. I look up and find his hungry eyes devouring me, a look of longing written on his face. The scent of his soap mixed with the greasy environment tickles my senses, a smell that’s distinctly associated with Linkin.

He gazes down at me, our bodies mere inches away from each other. I can feel his warm exhale kissing my forehead with each breath he takes. “You were saying? Earlier? The attorney?”

“Oh! Yes, my attorney called me, and guess what?” I don’t even wait for him to reply. “Chris signed the papers!” I squeal loudly, grabbing onto his forearms for leverage as I jump up and down.

Or maybe I’m just using it as an excuse to touch him again.

“Hey, that’s great,” Linkin says moments before wrapping his big arms around me and squeezing. The hug feels amazing, comforting and familiar.

And I never want it to end.

Until his lips are on mine, and suddenly, I never want this to end.

My arms wrap around his neck and I hold on tight. When he picks me up and my feet start to dangle, I do the most natural instinctive action I can: wrap my legs around his waist. His tongue is swift and hot as he explores my mouth and strokes my own tongue. I purr like a cat, feeling the groan vibrating in my chest.

Turning, Linkin positions me until I’m sitting on the fender, my legs still wrapped tightly around his waist. “My God, I love kissing you,” he whispers against my lips.

“I love it when you kiss me.”

“When is it final?” he asks, trailing tantalizing kisses down my throat and towards my collarbone. Shivers of lust rake through my body.

“Huh?” I ask, still focused on the way his lips graze against my skin, leaving a raging fire in its wake.

“The divorce,” he whispers, placing opened mouthed kisses down to where my sweater meets my cleavage.

“End of January. We go to… God, that feels so fucking amazing…court. Yeah, we go to court on January twenty-ninth. It’ll be final. Finally.”

“And I can finally have you,” he says, his hand sliding up my side, pushing my sweater as he goes.

“You can have me now,” I groan, my body flooded with the amazing sensation of his mouth. It makes me want his mouth other places.

But not yet.

Right now, I need one thing.

Ripping his shirt from within his pants, I push it up and grip the taut muscles of his chest, scratching at his skin with my nails to get as close as possible. Linkin grabs his shirt and pulls it over his head, exposing every muscle, ripple, and divot that God gave him. His body is simply amazing.

And I’ve only seen half of him.

Reaching for his belt, I start to pull at the leather. “What are you doing?” he asks, stalling his kisses and dropping his eyes to where my hands release the brown strap.

“Celebrating,” I answer, my green eyes meeting his brown ones. They’re dark and hot, and searching for the confirmation to his unspoken question. “Please.” My plea comes out just above a whisper, but it might as well have been yelled.

It only takes a few seconds for Linkin to understand. Quickly, he helps me up from the car to stand before him. With swift movements, he slides my sweater up and over my head, exposing my red satin bra. “My God, you are stunning,” he groans, rubbing his thumb over my nipples.

Before I can formulate any sort of response, his mouth descends on my chest, his big fingers moving my bra and exposing my sensitive breasts. The flash of cool air is quickly replaced by the warmth and wetness of his mouth. My fingers remove the belt and swiftly work at releasing the button and fly of his jeans.

Our hands are frantic as we help shed each other’s clothes. My ankle boots land somewhere in the garage, along with my jeans, panties, and bra. We don’t waste time removing his boots. Instead, I slide my hands along his hips, pushing his jeans and boxer briefs down as I go.

His cock is amazing. Long, hard, and throbbing in my hand. Just the way I’ve pictured it in my dreams. You know the ones where you wake up so wet and aroused you have no choice but to make yourself come in under five seconds? He flexes in my hand, his muscles tightening throughout his body as he releases a torturous groan of pleasure.

In one swift motion, I’m back in his arms and his lips lock on mine once more. The cold metal of the Hemi Cuda is shocking against my ass, but it’s nothing compared to the sensation of being possessed by Linkin Stone. My heart hammers in my chest and my body throbs with desire as he steps in close. So close, his cock is sandwiched between us.

His finger slides between my legs. “Fuck, you’re so wet,” he moans before his tongue delves back into my mouth. Gently, he pushes one finger inside of me, quickly followed by two. The stretch is almost a burn, but the discomfort is nothing compared to the overwhelming need to have him fill me.

“You sure?” he asks, giving me one last chance to stop this.

But there’s no way in hell I’m stopping this. If it were to come to an end before we ever really get started, I might actually die. You know, drop dead from lack of orgasm. And something tells me an orgasm administered by the massive cock of Linkin Stone’s is something to write romance books about.

“Yes. Very sure. So sure that there’s nothing I want more than you, right now.” My voice is breathy, my words choppy, but I think he gets my point.

With one thrust, he’s there, filling me completely. I cry out in both pleasure and a little in pain. It’s been months since I’ve had sex, and I had started to wonder if maybe AJ was right. If you don’t use it, it closes shut.

Linkin stills within me, his breathing labored and the muscles of his back and shoulders tight with tension. “Okay?” he asks, searching my face for signs of my discomfort to ease.

“More,” I instruct, the slight burn already turning to incredible pleasure.

You don’t have to tell him twice.

He slowly eases out, our gazes locked, as he pistons his hips and slams into me. Again, I cry out, this time in complete pleasure. My ankles are locked around his waist as he sets a bruising pace, filling me wholly, over and over again.

All I can do is hang on and enjoy the ride.

Get it?

Car humor.

I have no time to enjoy my dirty pun because I’m quickly racing towards an orgasm. My nails dig into the hardness on his upper back and I hang on for dear life. Linkin grunts as I leave my mark on his sweaty skin. The orgasm tears through me like a jolt from a live wire, alive and free. I fly over the edge, blinding white light clouding my vision.

Linkin pounds into me once, twice, three more times before stilling. He grunts and groans his release, grinding his pelvis against my throbbing clit. The friction sends me soaring into a second orgasm. Linkin rides out my second release, rubbing and grinding against me until we’re a mix of heavy breathing and sweaty limbs.

“Fuck,” he groans slowly, running his nose against my neck.

“You could say that again.”

“Fuck,” he mimes and I feel the smile against my skin.

“Already done that.”

He pulls back, gazing down into my eyes. There’s a mixture of emotions I’m not ready to diagnose shining back in those dark chocolate eyes. My fingers twitch to touch him, so I take a long, leisurely path of running my hands up his torso, his neck, until I’m caressing his jaw. The beard is prickly, and it makes me wonder what it would feel like on a more sensitive area. My thighs clench.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks, tenderly stroking my neck with the pads of his long fingers.

“Your beard,” I answer honestly, loving the feel of it against my hands. “I bet it’ll leave marks on my thighs.”

Linkin laughs as his lips find mine once more. The kiss is slow, sensual, and starts to spark to life my under-used libido. “That could be arranged,” he quips, nibbling on my swollen lower lip.

He pulls back more, looking down to where our bodies are still joined. “Shit, I didn’t use anything,” he says before meeting my eyes once more.

“It’s okay. I’m clean. It’s actually been quite a while for me, and I’ve only been with Chris for seven years.” Linkin tenses when I say my soon-to-be ex-husband’s name.

“I’m clean too,” he confirms. “And I always use condoms.”

Our gazes remained locked and I can feel so many unspoken emotions bubbling to the surface. I wasn’t expecting to feel anything for anyone so quickly after leaving my husband. Is this too soon after coming out of a long-term relationship? Or is there more here?

Linkin slowly eases his body from within mine, warmth and wetness spilling out. He reaches over and grabs a clean shop towel from the pile beside the Cuda. With delicate movements, he tenderly cleans me up before tending to himself.

When he’s finished, those dark eyes find mine once more. My heart is pounding in my chest and I can’t help but reach for him. I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him against me, skin on skin. My legs encase him, loving the way the scratchy coarseness of his legs feel against the smoothness of mine.

I ease him forward until our lips meet in another slow, tantalizing kiss. He explores my mouth, dipping his tongue into each recess and sliding it gently against mine. “I could kiss you all day,” he whispers, barely breaking the kiss.

“That sounds like an amazing day,” I reply, my hands sliding over his shoulders and onto his upper back. Linkin winces. “What?” I ask, pulling back.

“I think a tiger got a hold of me,” he says with a smile and a wink.

Moving his big body isn’t an easy task, especially while sitting atop a classic muscle car, but when I finally get him to turn, I see exactly what he was referring to. “Oh my God, did I do that?” I gasp, taking in the angry red lines that resemble claw marks.

“Fuck yes, you did. I wouldn’t trade those war wounds for anything,” he chides, spinning back around and wrapping his arms around me. “Those scratches I wear like a badge of honor.”

“You’re weird.”

“Maybe,” he says, placing a chaste kiss on my lips. “We should get dressed. I’m pretty sure that door over there isn’t locked.”

Well, isn’t that a pleasant thought. Anyone could have walked in and seen me getting the ride of my life on the hood of a freaking car. Awesome.

Linkin helps me down from the car before lifting his pants, which are still gathered around his ankles. Without even buttoning them, he works quickly to gather my clothes. I’m securing my bra when I feel his eyes on me. He’s fully dressed, watching me as I fasten the bra around my chest.

Suddenly, he’s moving.

I’m wrapped up in his arms once again, our lips hungry and urgent. The kiss goes on forever, or maybe that’s just wishful thinking?

Eventually, I pull back, gasping for air. “We really should get going,” I tell him, my hand resting over his chest where I feel his heart pounding and his lungs working frantically to pull in oxygen.

“Where are we going?”

“My dad’s. It’s Christmas Eve.” Linkin stares at me, one dark eyebrow raised high. “I want you to come to my family’s dinner tonight. Lots of laughs, some cards, probably some really gross PDA from my grandparents. It’ll be fun.”

He seems to struggle with saying yes, glancing between the car, his watch, and me. “Mrs. Case is going to be here in about thirty minutes to pick up the car. She bought it for her husband for Christmas.”

“Hell of a Christmas gift,” I acknowledge.

“It was the car he had when they met, but when money got tight, he sold it. Well, she found the man they originally sold it to, and he agreed to sell it back to her. She had it delivered here yesterday for a tune-up. A friend is supposed to drop her off at four so she can take it home to surprise him.”

“That’s awesome.”

Glancing at his watch once more, he adds, “I’ll need about twenty minutes or so at home to shower and change.”

“How about I meet you there? I have to finish putting together my dish for dinner, and I could probably use a shower myself,” I say, snorting a laugh.

Linkin wraps his arms around my waist. “I kinda like that I made you all dirty.”

“Me too,” I whisper.

“Okay,” he starts, taking a step back. “You better get out of here before I rip your clothes back off you and bend you over the car this time.” That piques my interest.

A lot.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he chastises, knowing exactly where my mind was. “I’ll meet you at your place in about an hour.”

“Sounds good,” I say, stepping forward and reaching for his neck.

Chris wasn’t short, but he wasn’t exactly tall either. He was just…average. The fact that I have to work to kiss Linkin is actually quite a turn on. And the fact that he always seems willing to kiss me isn’t so bad either. Not that Chris didn’t want to kiss me, but he wasn’t big on random public displays of affection…or those in private either.

With a smile on my face and whisker burn on my neck, I finally bid Linkin farewell and head towards my car. Oh, yes. I definitely made the right choice in tracking down my slightly mysterious and oh so sexy mechanic this afternoon.

I can’t wait to see what happens next.