Eric moved to stand beside her, looking at the completely fucked up engine with something that bordered on pride. “When I had her towed to my house from the junkyard, I promised myself that I’d do all the work on her myself. She does start now.” He glanced at Rebekah. “Sometimes.”
“I’m surprised she runs at all.”
He flushed and looked across the parking lot. Rebekah stared at him, perplexed. He hadn’t been this cute ten minutes ago, had he? Maybe because he was so close, she was able to get a better look at him. And he smelled good. A hint of leather and aftershave and something utterly male. She suddenly wanted him to notice her. As a woman.
Rebekah shifted sideways and brushed her arm against his, pretending it was an accident. He didn’t move away, but he didn’t increase the contact between them either.
“You can keep that promise. If I do help you,” she said, “you’ll be the one doing all the work. I’ll just supervise.”
His bright, genuine smile did something strange to her heart. It soared upward, fluttering in her throat or thereabouts.
“That sounds like a plan, Reb.”
His hand slid across her lower back. A thrill of excitement raced up her spine.
“I don’t expect you to volunteer your help,” he said. What would you like in repayment for your assistance?”
His thumb rubbed a small circle at the base of her spine. Her breath caught. Why were her nipples suddenly erect? She thrust her breasts forward, wanting him to observe them, and not sure why the thought of him seeing her arousal excited her. She chanced a glance at him and found his eyes closed. Her heart sank a little. He wasn’t paying attention to her. She turned away from him slightly. Not exactly out of his one-armed embrace, but to be less… engulfed by the man. He stood over a foot taller than her, which made her feel very feminine and small. She wasn’t sure she liked that feeling.
“Uh, what did you have in mind?” she asked breathlessly.
“I give a pretty good massage,” he said, his low voice drawing goose bumps along the side of her neck. His eyes opened and immediately fixated on the small bumps at the front of her thin tank top. His breath caught. She tugged the hem of her shirt down, giving him a nice view of her cleavage as well. She pretended that was accidental too. He was definitely paying attention now.
Which would make now a good time to grab hold of the long side of his hair and pull those easy-to-smile lips against her throat.
Wait. What was she thinking? Trey—all cool, suave, and sexy—was the band member she wanted to tease mercilessly, not this silly guy with the… with the… mesmeric hands. Oh. Just his thumb rubbing in circles along her lower back had her muscles melting. Her belly quivering. Her nipples straining.
Eric moved behind her, and his long fingers dug into her shoulders with just enough pressure to have her swaying back toward those wonderful hands in bliss. His thumbs massaged either side of her spine as he worked his way lower. Lower. Lower. Mmmmm, lower.
“Sold!” she cried as a deep shudder shook her entire body. Dear God, this man’s hands…
Eric chuckled and those strong, long-fingered hands moved around her waist to splay over her belly. He drew her against his lean-muscled body. She tilted her head back and found his gaze locked on her neckline. He bent his head closer to her ear. “I’m good at other things too,” he murmured.
I’ll bet you are. “Just not fixing cars,” she teased.
His hands rubbed her belly, and she longed for him to move them a bit higher to massage her aching breasts. If his hands felt that good on her back and belly, what would they feel like there? Oh, and down there.
“That wasn’t nice, little Reb.”
“Who said I was nice?”
“You look very nice to me,” he murmured.
She tugged the neckline of her shirt a little lower. Her nipples were scarcely covered now.
Eric drew a shaky breath through his teeth. Did he want her? She wanted him to want her. More like needed him to.
A loud, low rumble drew Rebekah’s attention. Thunder? On a sunny Californian day? A red Harley entered the parking lot and headed across the expanse of concrete in their direction. It pulled to a stop beside them, and its rider, dressed all in leather, shifted the bike on its kickstand.
“Tripod!” Eric greeted.
“Tripod?” Rebekah echoed.
The rider removed his helmet, revealing the cutest member of Sinners, bassist Jace Seymour. Jace was a perfect ten on the hottie scale. That dark beard stubble and bleached blond, spiked hair totally worked for him. Rebekah found each member of Sinners attractive in his own way. Lead guitarist Brian, with his cover model good looks, was a perfect ten. Vocalist Sed, all hunky and handsome, was another perfect ten. Rhythm guitarist Trey, sultry, sexy, with a heap of bad boy thrown in for good measure, was at least an eleven. And then there was Eric. Their drummer. She’d never really paid much attention to him. Too busy drooling over Trey. Trey—hummina, hummina, hummina—Mills. She wondered when he’d arrive.