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He buried his eyes in his fists, like that would help erase the image. Talon breathed through the desire that curled in his gut and started to rise.
She didn’t want him here, and he couldn’t say he blamed her. Throwing her down on the bed and caging her in until he could get inside her would definitely not help his case.
Just before he stood, he leaned over to her pillow and breathed deep, the scent of vanilla and something darker, something unique to Jenna punching him low, and it killed to know what he’d done to her. How he’d misjudged her and wasted a hell of a lot of time he could have spent getting to know her and wrapping himself up in her goodness so tight that she’d never let him go.
He sighed and looked at the closed bathroom door, wishing he could see what was on the other side of it, but knowing he hadn’t earned the pleasure.
The least he could do was make sure she had breakfast before she spent the rest of her day spitting mad because he wasn’t leaving her side.
So an hour later found him standing in front of her stove, flipping pancakes, a pile of bacon stacked on a plate, and black coffee steaming in his mug.
He heard her on the stairs and turned to face the hallway just so he could watch her walk in.
And she walked in like every biker’s wet dream.
All big hair and smoky eyes. Jeans, boots, and tee, wearing half her weight in silver.
And he wanted her on the back of his bike, her tits pressed to his back, and her heat at his ass with a fierceness he’d never felt before.
“You’re still here,” she mumbled.
He blew out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, “Fuck, you look good.”
She smirked but didn’t reply as she took in all that was going on in her kitchen.
Talon poured coffee into another mug and went back to the pancakes. “Don’t know how you take it.”
She peeked around him and looked into the pan.
“Smells good,” she said. “Good thing you can cook since you don’t follow directions worth a damn.”
He ignored her comment while he watched her set up her coffee with more flavored shit than he knew existed.
“Does that still qualify as coffee?” he asked.
“Qualifies as good,” she snarked back, taking a sip and sighing with pleasure.
And Talon decided that he liked her sass even more first thing in the morning and that he could definitely get used to hearing that sweet sigh from her lips. He just had to convince her to give it to him.
Jenna pulled silverware, napkins, and syrup while Talon plated food, and they met at the table, Jenna sliding into her usual spot so that she could look out the back windows while she sipped her coffee.
Talon took the seat beside her.
They both got situated, and Jenna tucked into her breakfast.
Talon watched her do it.
And watched.
She glanced up, “You gonna eat?”
“Yeah,” he said and started in.
But then he stopped again. “Got some things I think I need to explain.”
Jenna shook her head and sipped her coffee, “Research is done. Don’t need another interview.”
“I mean about the way I treated you. Why I acted the way I did.”
