A shiver slices up my spine, unstoppable and fierce, setting every nerve on edge. Then he does something he’s never done before. His teeth graze my throat, a gentle bite that sends sparks through me. My knees give out, my body dissolving into helplessness. Tomcat catches me easily, wicked amusement lighting his face as a low, dark laugh vibrates from his chest.
Oh. Oh, man. This is so, so dangerously bad.
“How about you pour me a coffee and tell me about your day?” he says, stepping away.
My lungs finally remember how to work.
Barely.
But the look in his eyes?
Oh, this is absolutely not over. That heated, predatory gleam promises he’s going to push me again before he leaves, and my body reacts with a traitorous little pulse of anticipation.
I don’t know whether to be excited or shove him out the damn door before I do something catastrophically stupid.
Blowing out a shaky breath, I scoot around him, fingers immediately flying to my hair, smoothing, fixing, pretending I’m not two seconds from climbing this man like a tree. I clear the desire from my throat before plastering on a bright smile.
“Yes. Right. Coffee. That sounds good.”
His husky laugh vibrates through the air, and I can only sigh in surrender.
Goddess, he is unfairly gorgeous.
“Goldie. Coffee?” he prompts, amusement dripping from every syllable.
I shake my head, dragging my eyes away from him with visible effort, scowling as if that might protect me. “Stop that. Put your manly manliness away. Right now.”
“No. I don’t think I will. You look sexy as fuck, all flustered.”
My thighs clench.
Again.
Distance. I need distance. Immediately. Before I do something insane like rip my clothes off and beg him to fuck me over the counter like a feral heathen.
I snatch the coffee cup I crafted just for him from beneath the counter, my movements quick and bristling with purpose. I fill it, slide it his way, then seize my disinfectant spray and rag like they’re emotional support objects.
We slip into conversation as I scrub down counters, tables, and chairs, letting the steady rhythm of cleaning anchor me, just enough to keep my heart from racing out of control. This is the hour I crave most. Just us. No distractions, no noise, no one watching. In the hush of night, he unravels in ways the world never witnesses. His shoulders relax, that razor-sharp alertness fading. He becomes less Tomcat, all danger and distance, and more Axton, real and reachable.
Just…him.
And I swear, this is the version of him I love best, the one I’d do anything to keep. Sometimes, I almost believe I’m his safe place too, not just the other way around.
“I ran into one of your many bed partners today,” I tell him, tossing the rag into the dirty bin and leaning against the counter.
Casually. Completely relaxed.
“Yeah? Which one?”
“How am I supposed to know?” I shrug. “They all blend together at this point.”
Her words echo in my mind, smug and certain, dragging up a fresh ache as I’m reminded I might always be just a friend to him, no matter how many years pass.
“What’d she say to you?” he asks, his voice dropping, something darker threading through the question.
“Nothing.”
Lie.
