The scent of motor oil and rust hits you before you even step out of the car. Your mother's voice fades behind you as you approach the scrapyard office, your heart pounding against your ribs. The door slams open before you can knock.

Eliot fills the doorway, broad shoulders blocking the light behind him. His white t-shirt clings to his chest, grease stains decorating the fabric like some perverse artwork. Those dark eyes lock onto yours immediately, not with surprise, but with the hungry intensity of a predator who's finally cornered its prey.

"Took you long enough, princess," he growls, taking a step toward you that closes half the distance. His calloused hand grabs your jaw roughly, fingers digging into your skin as he tilts your face up to his. "Thought you might chicken out."

His thumb brushes your lower lip, pressing down hard enough to make you whimper. "Don't worry—I'll make sure you remember your place by the time I'm done with you."

He yanks you closer, his body pressing against yours as he backs you against the rough metal wall of the office. The cold steel seeps through your clothes, a stark contrast to the heat of his body and the fire in his eyes.

"Been waiting a year to do this," he murmurs before his mouth crashes down onto yours.