Princess

Chapter 37: Grease

Ariadne

"Do you understand?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I can't focus," I admitted.

"Why not?"

"Have you seen yourself?"

Damon looked down at his body and looked back up at me with a confused expression on his beautiful face. Of course he didn't understand what the fuck I was losing my mind about.

The man was wearing dark jeans and a thin white shirt with black streaks here and there. He looked unnecessary sexy—the sunset catching his brown hair and making it look lighter.

I had no idea how much Damon loved cars. We'd regularly gone to car shows that he initially dragged me to but now I loved going to because he was so happy there. He'd stand around for hours, looking at cars that quite frankly all looked the same to me. He'd get so excited about some rare car and he'd grab my hand and tell me all about it.

I loved when Silence talked to me. It was literally my favorite thing in the entire world. I'd do anything, go anywhere, just to hear him tell me about things he was excited about and a big thing he was passionate about was apparently cars.

He worked on his own collection of cars all the time—he never let anyone touch them except for himself. The fact that I was even allowed in the garage to watch him work was apparently monumental.

So here I was, perched on the side bench, drooling over him while occasionally handing him something he asked for. I couldn't imagine I was helping very much since every time I handed him something, he gave me a look, chuckled, and then got whatever he needed himself.

Greasy hands, gray eyes, and my full blown demise.

"Ariadne," he said, snapping two fingers in front of me.

"Huh?" I asked stupidly, releasing the lip I was chewing violently.

"Are you listening to me?"

"No."

An exasperated sigh escaped him. "Why not?"

I hummed. "I'm thinking about you."

He tilted his head to the side, something sinful flickering in his gaze. "Oh?"

I nodded. "Mmhm."

"Okay, well, I'm trying to tell you about the timing chain in this car so why don't you be a good girl and pay attention?"

I dropped my voice to say, "But I don't wanna be good, Damon."

His eyes flicked to mine dangerously and held before he ran a hand through his hair.

"I need to finish fixing this up," he said in that impossibly low pitch that settled right between my thighs.

Ugh. Who the fuck cared about the car?

The man I wanted to fuck. That was who.

"Okay," I nodded. "Let me help you."

"After you haven't paid a single bit of attention to anything I've said in the last twenty minutes?"

"Definitely longer than that," I murmured under my breath and got to my feet, making my way toward him. Smoothing a hand down my ponytail, I made sure it was behind my shoulders when I stood in between him and the open hood of the car. My back was toward him—just the way I wanted it.

Damon Hale was obsessed with my ass. Deeply, hopelessly, irrevocably.

It 100% was his favorite thing about me. He was completely an ass man. I never thought I had a good one until I met him and he seemed to lose his mind over it.