“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 ni**les suddenly erect? She thrust her br**sts 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 cle**age 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 ni**les 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 br**sts. 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 ni**les 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.
Jace unhooked an elastic cord from the back of his bike and the cargo net snapped free. He tugged a duffel bag off the back of the seat and tossed it to Eric.
“If you’re trying to impress her with your car, man,” Jace said, “I think you should reconsider your strategy.” He snorted as he attempted to withhold a laugh.
“She loves it,” Eric said.
“She’s just saying that so you don’t cry.”
Rebekah shook her head. “No, he’s right. I do love it. I can’t wait to help him restore the engine.”
Jace lifted one brown eyebrow at her. “You’re going to help him restore it?”
Before she could take Jace down a peg about women’s lib and all that, Eric said, “Apparently, she has mad mechanic skills. Right, Reb?”
“Uh, yeah. I guess.” She blushed. “Well, I get auto mechanics, but sometimes I’m not strong enough to… But I do have little hands, so I can reach into small places easily.” She held up her hands, fingers splayed wide, and tapped her fingertips together. “I prefer to work with big hunks of metal—”
“Big hunks of metal? You’ve signed up with the right band,” Eric said.
Jace snorted and slapped Eric’s shoulder.
She rolled her eyes at Eric and tried not to laugh. “As I was saying, I’m not a fan of electronic components. That’s why I love these older cars so much.” When she beamed a smile at Eric, he got that melty look that Dave sported when he gazed at his adorable little sister with sappy affection. Ugh! She hated when guys looked at her like that. Rebekah was not Eric’s adorable little sister. She was a strong-willed, sharp-minded, tough, independent, sensual creature, and he’d damned well better remember it.
Rebekah grabbed Eric by the front of his white T-shirt and pulled him down to eye level, prepared to give him a good tongue-lashing. “J-just because I’m s-small doesn’t mean I’m not capable of t-taking care of myself or that I’m not s-sexy.” She hated how she stammered when she was perturbed. It sorta took the significance from her words.
Eric just grinned at her, the heart-meltiness in his look intensifying. “Are you sure about that, precious?”
Maybe she’d get her point across better if she did something other than lash him with her tongue. She wasn’t precious. She wasn’t. She was bold. Daring. And more impulsive than strong-willed, sharp-minded, tough, independent, or sensual. Her free hand found the long hairs at the nape of his neck. She grabbed them with enough force to draw his lips against hers. He put up no resistance to her unexpected kiss, but didn’t exactly respond the way she’d hoped, or at all for that matter.