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“Fuck,” he grunts, stepping away and pulling the condom off with a swipe of his hand. “Someone’s here.”
He tosses the condom, adjusts himself in his boxers, and pulls up his coveralls. I jump off the desk and tug my shirt, a flood of awkward energy vibrates through my limbs, and I am suddenly aware of the recklessness of this whole thing.
Whatever spell I had been under is shattered, the handsome man in front of me no longer a fantasy, but real. This is real. I did this for real.
“I should go,” I say, turning my gaze to the floor, and I head to the door.
He reaches for my hand, stopping me. He whips me into his body and kisses me again, hard and desperate, and I suspect our encounter did as much for him as it did for me. “Meet me. Tonight. At the pub.”
“I will.” I struggle to take my hand from his. I have to exert force to tear my eyes from his. I scoop my panties from the floor, tuck them in my coat pocket, and slip out of the office into the shop.
A man in the shop appears to be a taller, leaner version of the young mechanic passes me with a frown on dark eyebrows. A laugh threatens my composure, and I straighten out my skirt and tuck my hair behind my ear.
I can’t believe I took charge like that.
My Mom will fucking kill me if word ever gets out about this.
I push out into the bright warm sun with a sense of satisfaction.
One tiny moment of my life, and it was all mine—no one else’s.
But the freedom only lasts a second.
