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“Town.Definitely.Ineed all the greasy toast.Andhash browns.Andmaybe just like a side of fries, too?”
“Allthe potatoes and all the grease.Yougot it.”Suckingin some air,Ilook her up and down. “Wereyou gonna put on some pants or just go like that?”
“Coffeefirst.Thenclothes,” she mutters as she walks over to the coffeemaker to fix herself a cup.
Insteadof heading up the stairs with her beverages, forcing me to avert my eyes soIdon’t look up her t-shirt,Selenawalks over to the table and sets her drinks down at the place next to me.
Ipush the chair out from the table with my boot so she can sit down.She’sbrushed her teeth, but there’s a faint whiff of booze coming from her.
Iam not going to think about whether she’s wearing panties under that t-shirt.
AndI’msure as hell not going to think about her wet pussy dripping onto the chair at my parents’ kitchen table.
Watchingher, she takes a sip of coffee from a mug that says#1Cock, next to a big-ass rooster.Whythe hell did she pick that mug if she didn’t want me to think about shoving my cock balls deep inside her?
Thegroan she lets out after her first sip isn’t helping my morning wood. “Mmmm.Whyis coffee so good?”
“Don’tyou usually drink tea?”
“Yes, but there’s a time and a place for coffee.I’mambi-beveragous, andIdon’t need your judgment.It’sthe twenty-first century.”Shetakes another sip, moaning into the cup. “Butwhyis it sooo good?”
“That’sone of the secrets of the universe, not for us to know.”
Whenshe puts her mug down, she reaches her arms up above her head, stretching them while she yawns.
Donot look down at her naked thighs.
Donot look down to see if her pussy is showing.
Don’tlook.
Don’tmove.
Justdon’t do anything,damnit.
Tryingto avoid temptation,Iforce my eyes up her body instead of down, all the way up the curve of her arms to her hands.
“Whatthe hell is that,Selena?”Idemand, jerking forward and grabbing her right arm.
“What’swhat?”Selenagrumbles, but doesn’t pull away.
Itrace the constellation of dark blue bruises near her wrist. “This.Whatthe hell is this?”
“Ugh.Iwas wondering why my arm was sore.Ididn’t even notice that.”Selenafrowns down at her wrist, and then runs her other hand over the bruises.Shepresses her fingers down lightly to examine them.
“Thatasshole did this to you?Ishould have fucking killed him.”Myvoice is low asIthink about tracking the guy down and howI’ddispose of the body.It’searly.Heprobably hasn’t left the country yet.
“You’renot killing anyone.AndCanadadoesn’t even have the death penalty.It’sfine.Well, it’s not fine.ButI’mfine.It’sjust a few minor bruises.”
“Inever should have let that guy leave the bar last night in one piece.I’mgonna fucking kill him.”
“It’snot worth it.Ipromise you, it’s not.”
“Whatdo you mean?BecauseI’mpretty fucking sure killing him is going to be worth it for hurting you like that.”
“I’ma woman,Jackson.I’ma woman in the world we live in.Thisisn’t the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.Thisisn’t even the worst thing that’s happened to me by some stranger at a bar.”
“Whatthe hell do you mean?”
