The volume dropping on "Kashmir" and a long whistle of appreciation had Damon rolling from under the Mercedes to find Stefan standing at his feet.

"You like?" Damon sat up, propping forearms on his knees as he swung a gear wrench idly in one hand.

"You know I prefer American, but this one is sweet." Stefan did a slow circuit around the car, brows furrowed in scrutiny. "A 190SL, right?"

"Three hundred. She was rotting away in a barn in Altona, but you're home now, aren't cha, baby?" Damon crooned, stroking the car's bumper.

"Who's the buyer?"

"Tech nerd with a god complex."

"How much of a complex?"

"Million-five."

"Holy." Stopping in front of Damon again, Stefan regarded his brother stoically. "Guess you won't be coming back to the company any time soon."

Damon shrugged, lying back on the creeper and rolling under the car again. "You and Lils are doing okay without me."

He didn't have to say that he wanted no part of Salvatore Holdings because it still stank of their late father. Everyone knew the real reason for his shunning the family business but out of deference to his feelings, the subject was never given voice.

Stefan leaned in to examine the engine Damon was dismantling and said casually, "You spaced out at dinner the other night."

This shit again.

Rolling from under the car a second time, Damon remained prone as he scowled up at his brother. "Something in particular you wanna know?"

"Something in particular you wanna share?" There was challenge in Stefan's eyes as he returned Damon's glare with a might-as-well-fess-up look.

Little brother in mother hen mode was annoying as fuck. Damon had already decided to tell his family about the baby at next week's standing Thursday night dinner. He wanted all the shock and all the questions over in one shot. Stefan was putting a serious kink in that plan, but Damon was determined to hold firm.

"I'm going through something…life altering. When I'm ready to tell you about it, I will. That cool with you?"

Maybe he shouldn't have used "life altering" because now Stefan was gaping at him in alarm. "You're n-not…you're not sick or anything?"

Silently observing him for a moment, Damon bitterly recalled Stefan as a sweet kid who'd get terrified whenever his big brother got into trouble and was "disciplined" by their father. And because he understood where this obsessive fretting came from, Damon wasn't going to flame him for it. Today.

"I'm not sick. I'll tell you what's going on when I'm ready, but I'm gonna need you to back off until then, va bene?"

"Yeah...sorry…I was just…" Stefan shoved hands into his pockets and abruptly changed the subject. "The Bruins are in town tonight and Elena and I have an extra ticket. You interested?"

"No offense, baby brother, but watching you two teehee and suck face doesn't sound appealing. Besides, I've got plans."

And he really should've said no when Tara had called wanting to hook up given he still felt slightly off kilter after last night's binge. He'd woken up at the Saltzman's feeling ancient and anemic and had spent two hours in the gym trying to sweat the alcohol out of his system. All he needed was one good meal sans the liquor appetizer and some sleep and he'd be a perfect physical specimen again. But per usual, his inner sexual demon had gotten in the way of good sense.

"You and Amber hittin' some clubs?"

Aggravated, Damon snatched up a water bottle and took a long sip before responding. "It's not Amber."

"Really? You two are always hanging out, so I just assumed. Anyway." Stefan was back to drooling over the Mercedes and eagerly pulling off his jacket. "You need any help? I've got some time."

It'd been a while since they'd worked on a car together and now this was the kind of brotherly interaction Damon could get behind. Shelving his irritation, he pointed at several engine parts lined up neatly a few feet away as he rolled under the Mercedes once more. "Bag and label those."

A half hour in, they were working at an efficient clip when Damon's phone erupted. He wiped dirty palms on his worn jeans before yanking the cell out of a pocket, surprised to see Bonnie's name lighting up the screen.

"Hey." He lowered his voice as Stefan hovered nearby. "How're you feeling?"

"I'm fine."

She sounded anything but so Damon asked again. "How. Are. You. Feeling?"

He could hear the frustrated sigh despite the loudness of the subway in the background. "I'm exhausted and my breasts feel like they're about to pop, but I went a whole morning without hugging the john so…yay."

The guilt ratcheted up a notch as Damon realized she'd been suffering through this shit while he'd been assing it up. He wanted to make amends. Because after a night spent talking about the baby and then dreaming about the baby, he'd fallen in love with the baby and he wanted desperately to do right by the kid. And that meant doing right by its mother.

"You need anything? What can I do?"

There was a pause and then, "Hey, this comes with the territory. Today its sore breasts, next week it'll be heartburn but I'm fine, I promise. Look, I know we were supposed to meet tomorrow, but something's come up and I was hoping we could get together today?"

"Yeah, we can do that." Damon agreed, keen to hit the reset button. "I'm at my shop now, but I can meet you in-"

"I can come there."

"Why don't I come get you instead?" He was out from under the car and on his feet now. "Where are you?"

"I'll come there." She insisted. "I'm out running errands anyway."

Damon wasn't happy about her taking the subway with her feeling the way she did, but he could hear the stubbornness in her voice so he relented. He gave her the address and by the time the call ended, his mood was on the upswing.

Stefan was watching him with raging curiosity. "Should I make myself scarce?"

"You should." Damon replied bluntly as he began putting away tools.

"Starting your date early?"

"Different chick."

With a laugh and shake of his head, Stefan walked to the sink to wash grease off his hands. "One day you're going to meet a woman who'll cure your manwhore ways and I am praying I'm there to see it."

"I doubt it." Damon joined him at the sink and nudged him aside. "Elena is that rare breed of perfectly devoted woman. Everyone can't be as lucky as you."

The uncertainty that flashed across Stefan's features drew Damon up short. Usually mentions of Elena elicited a goofy smile, but…shit. Was there trouble in paradise?

"I say something wrong?"

"No." Stefan answered curtly as he dried his hands. He couldn't get to his jacket fast enough and was jerking it on when he said, "So I guess I'll see you at mom's on Thursday?"

"Hey." Blocking his path to the door, Damon clapped a hand to Stefan's shoulder and eyed him with concern. "What's going on? You and Elena okay?"

"Yeah, yeah…we're good." Forcing a smile, he punched Damon's arm lightly. "I'll see you next week."

As he watched Stefan leave, Damon sensed that things with Elena were not good. And the more he thought about it, the more Stefan's laser focus on Damon's life made sense. Little brother was avoiding his own problems. He made a mental note to invite Stefan out for beers in a couple days. See if he'd open up if given the chance.

In the meantime, he had his own drama to deal with and he was actually looking forward to it.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Salvatore Customs occupied a three-story white brick building on the corner of 22nd. A large bay door took up the lower left side and a bank of tall dark windows wrapped around the second and third floors. The area was working class residential and commercial, with turn-of-the-century brownstones and small stores mixed in amongst newer industrial buildings. As she stood at the entrance waiting for him, Bonnie was rethinking her initial impression of Damon Salvatore.

From the mod clothes to the shway black Vanquish he'd been driving the night they'd met, his whole persona had screamed trust fund baby. But as she surveyed the area, Bonnie began to wonder if there was maybe more to him than just an expensive car and hip clothes.

The door opened and there stood the enigma in all his grease monkey sex god glory. Low slung jeans. Black wife beater. Jacked arms. Longish messy black hair and sultry cerulean eyes. Even the dark smudges on his jaw were attractive and Bonnie suddenly remembered why she'd let him take her home and smoosh her all over the apartment.

"Fuck." Damon shuddered at the gust of icy October wind and quickly hustled Bonnie inside. "Should you be out in this shit?"

Official for one day and already he was in overprotective daddy mode. "You want me to spend the whole pregnancy bubble wrapped?"

"I'm good with that." He grinned, tiny crinkles forming at the corners of his eyes.

Just ridiculously pretty, Bonnie thought. Her quim throbbed in agreement.

"I'm fine, baby's fine." She forced herself away from him to inspect this shop of his.

The building was longer than it appeared on the outside, stretching lengthwise to accommodate vehicles in varying stages of restoration. Cranes hung from the ceiling and a bazillion tools lined the walls. Classic rock bumped from a sound system and the smell of oil hung heavy in the air. She wasn't big on cars, but the bronze beauty directly in front of her left Bonnie in awe.

"Nice." She walked to the car and dipped to peer inside.

"1973 Pantera." Damon came to stand next to her and launched into an enthusiastic description of the car's vintage guts. He lost her somewhere between 351CU engine and ZF transaxle, stopping abruptly when he noticed her laughing. "What?"

"You are a serious gearhead." Bonnie teased. "Like, sacrificing-hoopties-to-the-car-gods serious."

He ducked his head, rubbing the back of his neck as he smiled sheepishly and the whole thing was kinda cute. "Yeah, it's a sickness."

Their gazes met and held and making those startling eyes even more deadly were the long spiky lashes. So pretty. And if she didn't stop this hormonally driven lusting, she'd be naked and spread eagle on top of the Pantera's hood.

"You wanna grab something to eat?" Damon went to lock and bolt the door. "We can sit and talk."

She wasn't sure what else needed to be said, but she was starving. "Yeah, dinner sounds good."

"What's baby craving?"

"She's been wanting Greek the last few days."

"I know a place across town." He came back to her, fingers light against her hip as he guided her towards the elevator at the rear of the room. "Let's go upstairs…I've got a change of clothes in my office."

The elevator glided smoothly to the third floor and as they stepped off, Bonnie was awestruck. It wasn't so much the office taking up the whole third floor or the artfully stained concrete floors or the massive, curved Plexiglas desk. It was the fucking car sitting in the middle of the room.

"Are you kidding me?" Bonnie went to the compact red convertible and ran a hand down the sleek hood, brain working overtime as she scanned the room. "How'd you get it in here?"

Damon came to stand next to her, smug and tickled at her reaction. "I built it here. Wasn't easy getting some of the parts through the elevator and reinforcing the floor."

"Why would anyone build a car in his office?"

"Because it's over the top and I deal with a lot of rich asses who're impressed by this kind of stuff. They see the Barchetta and offer big money for it or beg me to restore a classic for them or both."

"A red Barchetta." Bonnie walked around the car, marveling at the antiquated dials embedded in the dashboard. "Like the Rush song."

Damon expression was impressed. "What do you know about Rush?"

"Used to date a guy in a cover band. Looked just like Geddy Lee."

"I question your taste in men."

"Oh..." Her eyes drifted over his chest and arms. "…it's improved over the years."

His whole face lit up with a shit-eating grin and why? Why, Bonnie?

"Give me fifteen to shower and change."

Pulling his phone out of his pocket, Damon began rapidly tapping as he disappeared through a door on the other side of the room. Intense heat suffused her whole body and Bonnie knew it had more do to with the way his back muscles rippled than hormones.

She pulled off her coat and draped it over a gray leather sofa as she wandered around the room. A long red wall featured tens of pictures of Damon with clients and fabulously restored vehicles. On his desk sat mechanical blueprints, detailed 3D designs and a desktop computer that would make Tony Stark envious. Three pictures held pride of place on a clutter free corner. One of twin girls who looked up to no good. One of Damon, another man with dark blonde hair and an older woman with Damon's blue eyes. The last was of Damon, the dark haired blonde and two other guys dressed in ski gear and posing in front of a steep snow-covered hill.

What had she learned about the father of her baby by scouting his office? That he had family and friends and…that was it. For her child's sake, she wanted to get to know him, but spending time with him might not be the sane thing to do when she was in the middle of one of her spells.

He was obviously texting when he emerged again, dressed in clean jeans and a snug, midnight blue pullover. Mercy.

"Ready to go?" He slipped the phone in his front pocket.

"Yep." Bonnie reached for her coat, hand fluttering as it often did to her belly. Damon approached her then, gaze drawn to her middle.

"Shouldn't you be bigger?"

"No, I'm just entering the second trimester." She lifted her top to show him the slight swell. "She's about the size of a plum."

He splayed his hand across her stomach and Bonnie fought hard to keep her reaction inward. His palm was warm and firm and calloused and pleasure rippled from her clit to her nipples and back to her clit again. With a nonchalance she didn't at all feel, she stepped away and Damon moved in again to help her put on her coat. He smelled so good. Spicy and...lickable. He was just…wreaking all kinds of havoc on her equilibrium.

They took the elevator to the bottom floor again and exited the shop by the rear door. Damon pulled up a security app on his phone and set the alarm before leading her to a late model blue Camaro, as lovingly restored as the cars in his shop. As he helped her into the passenger seat, Bonnie smiled to herself because seriously. Such a gearhead.

Damon drove the Camaro with much speed and skill through the dense Saturday night traffic, peppering her with questions mostly about the baby. At the restaurant, his ribbing her about her appetite (because baby wanted a little bit of everything) kept Bonnie laughing and his sweet apology for his previous behavior nearly had her bawling. Ugh. Hormones.

For the most part, she was able to keep her attraction to him under control. Then he discovered she was a teacher.

"What do you teach?" He asked with intense curiosity.

"Chemistry." Bonnie leaned back in her chair to let her food digest and prayed she could keep it down. She noticed he'd gone quiet, expression far away. "Are you alright?"

His lips tilted in a wicked smirk. "Not really. Having a lot of hot teacher sex fantasies at the moment."

Laughing, Bonnie covered her face. "Jesus."

"When you're teaching, what are you wearing?" Damon's gaze was near orgasmic as he leaned across the table. "Eyeglasses? Stilettos?"

Jesus.

Damon checked his lasciviousness while driving her home later, but he'd opened the floodgates and now Bonnie couldn't stop thinking about fucking him on top of her classroom desk wearing safety goggles and her favorite Prada platforms. And as he walked her to her door, she contemplated seducing him because he was giving off those vibes. Little looks here, little touches there.

But impulsive behavior was the reason they were where they were and although Bonnie now knew more about him, he was still a man and they were good at walking out when things got rough. Her mother had experienced it twice and she was still bitter because of it. And Bonnie was fairly sure Damon had been texting a woman earlier, which meant…she wasn't sure exactly what it meant, but she wasn't about to set herself up for heartbreak.

"Thank you for dinner." Bonnie said from the safety of her open doorway, trying to keep some distance between them but again, Damon was having none of that. He drew her into a hug and gave her a gentle squeeze before releasing her, hand trailing over her abdomen as he stepped back.

"I'll call you tomorrow."

She didn't need that smooth voice in her ear making the throbbing between her thighs worse. "You don't have to."

"I know." He pivoted, walking backwards towards the landing. "I'll call you anyway."

Bonnie watched him jog down the stairs before retreating inside the apartment. Later in bed, her fingers did a fairly decent job of easing the persistent ache in her snatch. But she was still restless and unsatisfied, finally falling asleep with relentless Damon fantasies playing in her head.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Even though he'd canceled their date, Tara had sent a text inviting Damon over for a late night session if he was free. He'd taken her up on the offer because he'd left Bonnie's apartment in a feverishly aroused state. Now as he watched the beautiful redhead dance nude in front of him, his dick couldn't even be bothered. It was just hanging out in his jeans, being all flaccid and picky. Never mind. Wrong pussy.

And Tara's flat belly got him to thinking about Bonnie's smooth, slightly rounded one and the little nugget growing inside of it and now he was getting all sappy. It was fucking disgusting how sappy badass Damon Salvatore had gotten in the past twenty-four hours.

Tara climbed onto his lap and settled her cunt right over his disobedient bulge. "What's up with you?"

Her breasts were gorgeous 36Ds and determined, Damon reached for them, squeezing roughly as he latched onto a stiff nipple. Tara moaning and grinding against his crotch should've done the trick, but nope. Dick didn't even twitch. Damon's head fell back against the sofa in frustration. "Fuck."

Tara wiggled in his lap. "Yes, please."

He laughed pitifully. "Hate to break it to you, but-"

"You're not into this?"

Lifting his head, Damon patted her ass apologetically. "Sorry."

"I could call Kimberly. We had fun together last time, even though dingbat kept forgetting the safe word."

"Hmm." Damon contemplated it for a hot second. "Not sure that would help."

Grabbing a bottle off the end table, Tara poured two shots of vodka and handed one to Damon. "Do you want to talk about it?"

She was a nice. Smart and funny and not at all interested in a serious relationship. Just his type, or so he'd thought. They could probably be friends if he took the time to get to know more about her than just her favorite position. And the fact that she was nice and far removed from his life was probably why he found it easy to confess the truth to her.

"I'm going to be a father." Damon said, surprised at the pride he felt with that statement.

"Oh?" Tara responded with genuine interest. She took a sip of her drink and shifted in his lap, apparently no longer concerned with fucking. "How do you feel about that?"

Right, she was a psychologist. This kind of shit was her thing.

"I'm excited. Kind of happy."

"Then congratulations. Are you and the mother-to-be involved?"

Shaking his head, Damon swirled the vodka absently and watched it slosh against the glass.

"Do you want to be?"

His dick apparently did. "I don't know. We're just trying to get along and focus on the baby."

"But you like her?"

Damon thought about the time he'd spent with Bonnie today and he experienced a flush of pleasure. She was unique and sweet and fierce and he hadn't laughed with a woman like that in a long time. "I like her."

Tara's expression was naughty and perceptive. "You wanna fuck her."

His head dropped back against the sofa again and now this time his cock did twitch. "Badly."

"Ah." She bounced off his lap and grabbed her robe. "I was right about you."

"What?"

"This reckless playboy shit, it's not you. I see monogamy and more babies and a suburban bungalow with a two-car garage in your future."

"Get out."

"No you get out." She waved him towards the door, more amused than angry. "I've got a date with a dildo. And you should quit judging women by the bitch that gave you those trust issues. Whatever. You're a big boy, I'm sure you'll figure it out."

"I'm sure I will."

But as much as he liked Bonnie, the baby was the number one priority. The kid needed him. Damon refused to follow in his old man's horrific parenting footsteps. Which meant he should probably scale back the getting wasted and indiscriminate fucking. He placed his untouched drink on the coffee table and Tara walked him to the door.

"Two things. First, I hear pregnant sex is really hot."

He laughed and damn if that didn't sound intriguing. Bonnie had been luscious before, but pregnancy had made her even more alluring. "What's the second thing?"

Tara smiled and leaned up to buss his cheek. "Send me a picture when the baby's born."

Damon couldn't stop grinning as he drove home. Couldn't sleep either. He spent the rest of the night researching and planning and fantasizing and by the time he finally went to bed, he knew almost everything there was to know about babies and the sex drive of pregnant women.