Patty’s eyes lift from his overflowing plate to me. “Were those fighting words I heard?” he queries, his voice a deep snarl.
My brows meet my hairline, utterly confused by his statement.I didn’t say anything?It’s only when I see the possessive streak plaguing his eyes I was expecting earlier do I realize what his statement is referring to.
I rub my stomach. “It’s all good, I’m stuffed,” I assure him.
Patty drags his plate across the table and guards it possessively. “Good, cause your mitts are not to go anywhere nearmypancakes. All their sweetness belongs to me.”
I need to get fucking laid.Even though Patty’s statement is referring to food, my mind went straight to the gutter. Every improper thought that ran through my mind included Ava in some form of sexual activity. On her knees, in the shower, bent over the very desk Patty is eating his breakfast on.
My thoughts turn even more perverted when Ava pops her backside onto the desk and gestures for me to join her by patting the desk with her hand. Trying to act like a man, instead of the teenage boy Ava forces out of me every time I'm near her, I accept her offer.
Over the next forty five minutes, Patty eats his breakfast while updating me on his life history. He met his wife, Calista, when he was sixteen; they married six days after her eighteenth birthday. They had three children: two sons and one daughter. His wife passed away eight months ago, and since he was lonely, he decided to rejoin the workforce after being retired for over five years.
He was ecstatic when he secured his position as a night watchman in Ava’s apartment building six months ago, but disappointed when he discovered his employer won’t let him carry a gun like the rest of the security personnel.
“I’ve never failed an eye exam!” he exclaims, emphasizing his plea.
Ava leans across the table and taps Patty on his spot-blemished arm. I try to keep my eyes away from the delectable skin on her thighs. I fail miserably.
“They don’t let you carry a gun to keep the staff moral up,” says Ava.
Patty stares at Ava with just as much confusion as I'm bestowing on her.
“They don’t want you bruising the ego of the younger guards when you show them how a real man operates,” she adds on.
Patty’s chest puffs high, proud of Ava’s compliment.
“Besides, what’s that saying you quote all the time?” she questions, tapping her index finger on her lips. “A real man doesn’t need to carry a weapon. His body is his weapon.”
“Damn straight,” Patty replies, standing from his chair. His chin is higher than it was earlier and his shoulders more square. “Thank you for breakfast, Ava, but it’s time for me to get back to showing these boys how it’s really done.” He places a kiss on Ava’s cheek before ambling out of the room with a new-found spring in his step.
Ava’s brows scrunch. “I think my little pep talk backfired.”
“Why’s that?” I query. “Patty walked out of here with his head held high. Isn’t that the whole purpose of a pep talk?”
“But Patty works the graveyard shift. He is supposed to be going home to sleep, not showing the boys how it’s done,” she says with a little laugh.
I laugh before helping Ava clear away the Tupperware containers. By the time we walk out of the office, the worry fettering Ava’s face fades. Patty is slouched in a grandpa rocking chair in the corner of the room, fast asleep. With a broad grin across her face, she bids farewell to the security officer still watching me cautiously with a wave of her hand before pacing out the heavy-weighted door.
When the elevator pings, announcing its arrival to the lobby, I guide Ava inside by placing my hand on the curve of her back. After pushing the button for her floor on the lift dashboard, I turn to face her.
“Do you have plans this afternoon?” I ask.
Smiling, she shakes her head.
“Did you want to come and christen my new pad?”
Her entire body blooms with heat.
I shake my head, trying to conceal the smile tugging the corner of my lips. “I thought I was the only one in this elevator with the mind of a thirteen year old boy,” I mutter under my breath.
“I meant to say a housewarming party,” I explain, cringing at the thought of old ladies sitting in my sunken living area with china teacups in their hands.
All my good intentions for treating Ava like the woman she is crash into oblivion when she peers up at me, wide-eyed and eager. The hardness of my cock hasn’t eased any since her little tease earlier this morning, and if she keeps looking at me like that, it’s never going to quit.
My morals are left for dust when Ava’s dark eyes peer up at me and she says, “I would love to come and christen your new apartment.”
Fifteen
