“You think I’m that desperate to be named after a fabric? Get a grip.”
“No,” I say, leaning down over her, being a perfect gentleman by not looking down her shirt at her insanely inviting tits, might I add. “Jealous of her having her hands on me when you can’t.” I hear the catch in her breath as her neck flushes and she licks her lips.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says haughtily as she moves to go back inside. I gently grab her wrist, the barest touch, and that’s all it takes to stop her in her tracks. I’m done being a gentleman.
“I think you do, sunshine.” I can’t help but tease her when I see how she reacts. “I think you still need me to make you come. I think you want to know what I look like naked and sweaty on top of you.” I turn us so I’m caging her in against the wall, completely shielding her from the sight of anyone who might wander by. Her mouth slackens as she stares at me, her neck and cheeks colouring as the pulse in her neck races. Her pupils widen, and I smirk. Am I pushing this too far? Maybe. It’s so fun to play with her though. She’s so innocent, so responsive, and the feeling of being a massive creep is overshadowed by her own arousal, how she’s pushing into my hold, not to get away, but to demandmore.
“I think you want to know what my cock tastes like before it’s inside you. Are you saying you haven’t thought about what it would be like to come, screaming on my cock?” The way she shivers as I divulge my own fantasies is tantalizing. I bend so I’m right at her ear, speaking softly. “Are you saying you’re not jealous that I considered her, even for a moment?” Her eyes snap to mine, full of fire and venom.
“Screw you, James,” she spits at me, full of rage. I press her into the wall, letting her feel exactly what she’s doing to me as her breath picks up.
“Wouldn’t you like that?” I let my hand roam up the feminine sweep of her waist, curling my fingers around her as my thumb brushes the underside of her breast. She tries to hide the light tremors running through her at my touch, taking deep, gulping breaths, but I feel them nonetheless, how much I affect her. How much she wants this despite her reasoning.
“You know why we can’t.”
“But do you want it?”
“James…” she whispers right as the door to the rear of the bar bangs open against the wall not too far from us. She jumps,trying to move away from me as I keep her still, hiding her from whoever just came out.
“Hey, James! You coming back in? We’re getting nachos!” I could pass out in relief that it’s Jill who’s found us and not another employee. Although, the fact that they’re ordering the nachos is concerning. Beck has done a great job spiffing the place up, and whoever does their baking is phenomenal, but the food here is downright awful. I’m hoping they get a new chef in ASAP, and I don’t think I’m the only one who feels that way.
Questionable nachos aside, the interruption brings me sharply into my reality.
“One sec,” I call over, making sure Stella is completely obscured. I wait until I hear the door close before I pull away. “See you later, gorgeous.” With great effort, I pull myself away from her and fight every instinct to turn around for one last look.
No matter how much I want this, Nessa’s right. She’s too young, has too much ahead of her. My future has already been decided for me and I don’t even want it for myself, least of all her.
Chapter 7
Stella
“Crap!” I shout as steamed milk pours over my hand. The skin instantly turns a hot, angry red and I rush to the sink to pour some cold water over it. I’m used to water and milk burns at this point, yet it always manages to catch me by surprise. I smile apologetically at the lady whose drink I’m making as she harumphs in my direction and I go to re-steam her milk. I’ve been so stuck in my own head these last few days.
Every time the bell on the door jingles, I look up, wondering if it’s going to behim. I can’t stop thinking about the way he caged me against the alley, how my breath caught, the way his eyes hypnotically pulled me in.
Why does he have to be so hot?I lament internally while I quickly replicate the ruined drink. The customer snatches it off the counter once I’m done, leaving in a huff.
Some people simply can’t handle human error.
“Are you okay?” Maria asks, peeking her head out of the swinging door that leads to the kitchen. Her frazzled hair is wrapped up in a bandana, sweat beading on her forehead as thesmell of cinnamon wafts from the workspace behind her. She’s been working on her cinnamon roll recipe for mornings here for the last three hours and I think I’m going to dehydrate from all the watering my mouth has been doing just imagining biting into one.
“I’m fine,” I assure her as I soak a cloth in cold water before wrapping it over my burnt hand.
“You need to be more careful! You’re going to lose a limb one of these days,” she scolds as she tops up her own coffee from the dredges at the bottom of the pot.
Shoot, I totally forgot to brew another batch.I mentally smack myself and start whipping up a fresh pot before our next customers come in and give me something to cry about.
“I’m not that bad.” It’s a lie. I’m pretty bad. Just this morning I dropped a knife as I was pulling it out of the dishwasher and only narrowly avoided lodging it into the top of my foot. She doesn’t need to know that though.
“Well, shout if you need anything.”
“I wouldn’t complain about you feeding me again? I didn’t bring a lunch today.” I ask hopefully, thinking about the ninety-nine cent ramen stashed in the bottom of my bag, which doesn’t hold a candle to anything Maria makes. Seriously, on my deathbed, I would like the privilege of eating anything she cooks.
“Sure thing, querida,” Maria laughs, gulping down her scalding coffee as I wince, and promptly returning to the kitchen.
The bell on the door jingles. My mood brightens significantly when one of my favourite regulars, Miriam, struts in. She has her signature Barbie-pink cane, a faux-fur coat, oversized sunglasses, and her milk foam white hair is freshly permed, never looking anything other than immaculate.
She’s my hero.
