The speed at which Vincent moves takes my breath away. Before I can blink, his rough hands are around my waist, and then I’m on his shoulder as he’s carrying me toward the back of the garage. I feel his taut back muscles against my stomach, and his manly scent has my head already spinning.

I hear him kick a door open and find myself in what looks like a break room. He slams the door shut behind us, then throws me down on an old dirty couch that smells of must and wear.

“Oh, fuck,” I gasp, my mouth hanging open as he slides out of his shirt, revealing...