Текст книги "Dirty Lies"

Автор книги: Emma Hart

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“Hey,” I grab the attention of a blond chick whose skirt is barely brushing the tops of her thighs.

“Hey.” She smiles flirtatiously, pausing as recognition washes over her face. Unsurprisingly, she puts a hand on her hip and pushes her chest out. “Can I help you?”

I can think of several ways she could help me. And none of them involve her being in that dress.

“Yeah. Is there a girl in there with red hair? Flower tattoos on her arm?”

Blondie’s smile drops. “Yeah. Why? She your assistant or somethin’?”

I smirk. “No, but I’m hirin’.”

“Well, how about this.” She steps forward and runs her finger down my arm. “I give you my number, and when you’re ready to interview, you can call me.”

“Or how about you come back here this time next week and if I’m standing right here, you’ll know you got the job.” My lips tug up even more.

Agreeing to call a girl.

Fuck. That.

That’s an amateur move.

“Well played,” she whispers in my ear before stalking past me, making sure her tits brush my arm. Her hard, fake tits.

I prefer real.

The bathroom door opens and I look up straight into the eyes of . . . my little sister. Leila takes a deep breath and holds her hand up at me, touching two fingers to her temples. Her ponytail swings as she shakes her head. “Aw, hell no. I am not going to think about the fact that I just helped one of my best friends out of Spanx so she can fuck my brother.”

She opens her eyes, and I scratch the corner of my mouth, fighting my smile. She shakes her head some more, muttering “No, no, fuck no” to herself, and walks past me. I laugh as the bathroom door opens again. This time it’s actually—finally—Jessie walking through it.

She stops when she sees me. “What are you doing?”

“Waitin’ for you, sunshine. What’s it look like?”

“No need to be an asshole about it.”

“Didn’t you know?” I quirk an eyebrow. “Asshole is my middle name.”

She hooks a finger through one of my belt loops and tugs me behind her. “I figured that out when I was twelve. Let’s go before I regret this decision in the morning.”

I glance down at her hand and grasp her wrist, directing her to the bar. I lean right forward, grabbing the attention of the bartender again, and ask for two shots of Jack Daniel’s on my tab. They’re placed in front of me almost immediately, and I hand one to Jessie. “Regret this, not me.”

I throw my shot back and watch as she does the same, swallowing the harsh whiskey without so much as a flinch or a twitch. This girl just gets hotter and hotter.

She grabs my belt loop again, fire in her eyes. “I’m still pretending I like you. We should leave before that wears off.”

I laugh, throwing my arm over her shoulder and guiding her toward the exit. “Shame. I feel like a good, hard hate-fuck with you would be far more fun.”

“You want a hate-fuck?” she muses. “A hate-rebound-fuck. That sounds like a recipe for disaster.”

“No. It sounds like a recipe for the mind-blowin’ night I’m gonna give you.”

“Mind-blowin’ is hardly synonymous with a hate-fuck.”

I tug open the door on a black SUV, tightening my grip on her and making her stop. “Then you’ve never had a proper hate-fuck, have ya?” She opens her mouth to argue, but I help her climb into the backseat before a word leaves her mouth. Those heels are at least four inches, and I would feel personally responsible if she fell and hurt herself.

Plus I get a killer view of her ass as she bends over.

I take a gamble and my palm connects with her right ass cheek, the temptation too much. She squeals and scoots into the SUV quickly, leaving me laughing as I jump in after her. Her dress has ridden up her thighs slightly, and as the door is closed behind me, I slide across the leather seat toward her and ease my hand between her legs, curving my fingers around her thigh.

Jessie takes a deep breath in, turning her face toward me the smallest amount. Hesitation comes off her in waves, and I take her chin in my finger and thumb, guiding it upward until her eyes meet mine. “Your house or my hotel?”

“Hotel?”

“You think I’m gonna take you back to my mom’s?”

She opens her mouth then closes it again. “Ah.”

“Ah.” I smile, gently stroking my thumb across her thigh. “So? Where to? Because you don’t look so sure about either.”

“I’m not,” she admits softly. “But hey, I’m already gonna get shit tomorrow because I left with you, so I may as well earn a damn good reply. That and I’m technically out for a rebound fuck.”

“So you’re using me,” I murmur, moving closer and touching my lips to her jaw.

“Only as much as you are me,” she breathes as I kiss my way around the curve of her jaw to the corner of her mouth. I linger there for a moment, waiting for her to make the move, because I’m an asshole, but not that much of an asshole. “Hotel,” she whispers, her breath hitching. “Definitely the hotel.”

“Hotel,” I say loudly, reaching to knock on the partition. “The usual.” One loud rap and the car buzzes as the engine comes to life.

“The usual?”

“The usual,” I repeat.

Jessie’s face turns to mine, her brows drawn together and her lips barely a breath from mine.

And, sweet shit, I’ve been fucking waiting for this all night.

I kiss her, our lips molding together as I slip my hand around the back of her neck and her hair twines around my fingers and she grasps the collar of my shirt tightly. Her leg muscles tense as my mouth moves over hers.

She tastes like fucking cosmos. Sweet but tangy, sharp but fruity. Just like her. And it’s so fucking delicious that I pull her farther into me so I can feel more, taste more, of her.

She curves her body into me, one leg lifting and her heel brushing against my calf. I take my hand from between her legs and grab her hip, maneuvering her on top of me. Her knees fall to either side of my hips and she gasps as her center pushes against my already hard cock, straining against my jeans.

The slight part of her lips gives me the opening I need to flick my tongue against hers. I do it, tentatively, waiting for her to respond, handing her control I know won’t last.

When she’s on top of me this way, her pussy against my cock with only two pathetic layers of fabric between us, my own control is severely waning.

I wrap my arm around her as she wraps her hand around my neck and grasps my hair and kisses me, tiny moans leaving her mouth. If I could flip her onto her back and get the driver out of the car and fuck her right here on the backseat, I would. I would lift that sinfully tight dress, tug her panties away by whatever means necessary, and bury myself inside her before she could utter my name.

“Sir? We’re here.”

The driver cuts through the kiss, and I rub some lipstick from the side of Jessie’s mouth before pushing her up and off me. Her harsh breaths cut through the air, and I tug on a lock of her hair before I adjust my pants.

“Thank you,” I say, reaching for the door and knowing it’ll be charged to the band’s account. I glance at Jessie. “You good?”

She glares me at—a look full of frustration and so much desire that it burns into me. “Move. Now.”

I laugh as I get out of the car and swing her out with me. She squeals as I set her on her feet, but I wrap my arm around her waist and guide her toward the hotel. A porter dressed in a suit opens a side door and tips his hat, so we avoid the revolving door.

“Thank you, sir,” I say, nodding at him and pulling Jessie through into the lobby. She smiles at the porter, echoing my thanks. Damn, she’s polite when she’s talking to someone other than me.

We walk across the lobby toward the elevator and I reach forward to push the Up button. Jessie shivers in my hold, inching toward me a little closer. I pull her closer and smile into the top of her head, my cock still straining against my jeans.

Next time, I’ve gotta wear boxers.

The elevator doors ping open and an older couple walks out. The gentleman nods his head in my direction with a knowing smile, the old dog, and I return it out of courtesy, gently pushing Jessie into the elevator.

I reach forward and hit the button for the tenth floor, where my room is, and watch as the doors close slowly.

“This is awkward,” Jessie whispers the second they shut.

I step forward, swinging around and tugging her between me and the wall of the elevator. She half-laughs, half-shrieks as her back collides with the wall, flattening her hand against my chest. “Aidan—”

I shut her off with a simple kiss that quickly turns heated and desperate. Her hand on my chest moves around my neck and grips my hair and mine slides down her body and squeezes her ass. I pin her against the wall, desperate to lift that damn dress and have my cock connect with her fully, letting her writhe and moan beneath me as I slip into her and let her grip my arms and back as I move relentlessly.

She gasps as the doors open and I tug her backward out of the elevator and into the hallway. She giggles, her laugh reflecting her tipsy state. Luckily for her, that last shot has slightly messed with me, too, so I grab her hands and tug her around the corner and down the hall to my room. She throws her head back and laughs, her bright hair falling around her shoulders, bringing out the colors in her tattoos as she moves.

I take the hotel card from my wallet and slide it into the slot on the door, tugging it out as soon as the light blinks green. Yanking the handle down, I shove the door open and Jessie strolls into the room. How the fuck she’s still walking in those heels I’ll never know, but damn, I like watching.

I close the door and flick the switch for the standing lamp. She’s there in the middle of the room, her red hair flowing over one shoulder, opposite her tattoos. They’re standing out, bright and compelling against the bronzed tone of her skin. Every pink, red, blue, and white hue—they’re stunning.

“What are you looking at?” Her voice is a whisper, her eyes focused on me as she asks.

I cross the room to her, tearing my shirt over my head and letting it fall to the floor. “You.”

“Me?”

“You,” I clarify, walking toward her slowly.

“Me?” she repeats again, swallowing as the dim light casts shadows over her face.

“Yeah. You’re a hell of a lot hotter than I remember.”

“Oh, for the love of God.” She bats at the hand I move toward her. “Don’t think you have to try and be nice to me, Aidan. The only nice I expect from you is the previously promised orgasm.”

I laugh, dodging her attempt to shove me away and tugging her lithe body against mine. A sharp breath leaves her as our bodies collide, and I hook my thumb beneath her chin and pull her face upward so our eyes meet. “I don’t ever remember promisin’ you a nice orgasm.”

“Keep talking and I’ll leave and do the job myself.”

An image of her on her back pleasuring herself makes my cock throb hard. The bolt of desire that accompanies it has me spinning her around and throwing her on the bed. She laughs as she bounces off the soft surface, but the smile dies when I lean over her.

Her chest heaves, and she leans up onto her elbows, pushing herself up the bed. With my arms still on either side of her, I move forward, crawling along over her. Her tongue flicks out over her lips, leaving them glistening with wetness.

I hold myself up with one arm, my hand flattened just above her head, and reach down to her legs. She tries to bring them together, but I curve my fingers around the inside of her thigh. She stills, her left leg falling open as I push her right one down.

“This. It’s coming off,” I whisper huskily, grasping the bottom of her dress and sitting back on my heels. I tug it up her body, not gently, until it bunches under her breasts. The hint of bright red lace, the exact color of her hair, peeks out from beneath the soft cotton, and I push the dress up higher, cupping her breasts as I do. Her eyelids flutter closed as I trail my thumbs along the line of the cups, and she lifts her arms over her head so I can remove it fully.

Once the dress is up and over her head, I throw it to the floor and grasp her still-together wrists with one hand. Her eyes snap open, her lips parting, her chest heaving, her knees bending. My lips curve into a small smirk at the shocked desire filling her gorgeous dark eyes.

It lasts all of two seconds before she wriggles one hand free, reaches between us, and pops open the button on my pants.

“I’m all about equality,” she whispers.

The smirk returns, and I release her other hand to tug my pants down. Slipping back down the bed, I stand and kick them off and to the side. My eyes ghost over her body, encased in nothing but red lace and high heels.

This might be my dick talking, but I should have fucked her years ago.

I grasp her ankles and slide her across the soft sheets until her center hits my erection. My cock pushes against her pussy hard as I pull her into a sitting position and kiss her again. Fucking finally.

Jessie’s nails dig into my arms as she tilts her head back to take the force of my kiss, but she doesn’t fight, she doesn’t tell me to slow down. She kisses me back just as forcefully and with as much need as I do her, and fuck me if it doesn’t make me impatient.

I lay her back down, still kissing her, and grab her panties. Pulling them down as far as I can without moving, I break the kiss and move back to take them off entirely. They fall to the floor with her dress, and she grabs my waist and pulls me back to her.

I lean over her, guiding her legs around my waist. Her ankles lock behind my back as our tongues battle with each other and I reach a hand between us—between her legs. My fingers glide over her smooth mound and tease her wet clit. A tiny moan leaves her mouth as I push them down farther and inside her, curving the tips just slightly as I shift to the side.

She arches her back, throwing her head back, eyes closed. She looks fucking gorgeous, lying here in front of me, mouth open in the pleasure I’m giving her. Her legs are moving though, her feet seemingly fighting with themselves. . . .

“No.” I grab her calf, making her open her eyes and look at me. With my fingers still inside her and my thumb pressing down on her clit, I say, “No, baby. You go out wearing fuck-me shoes, you’re sure as hell gonna get fucked in them. They stay on.”

She nods, but her eyelids close again, and the nod is so weak and her following gasp so loud, I withdraw my fingers and shove down my pants.

Fuck the foreplay. I’m harder than I’ve been in a long time, and she’s sure as shit wetter than she’s probably ever been in her life. Time to fuck her—and good, too.

I reach down to grab my wallet from the pocket of my jeans and pull a condom out of it. I tear the foil packet apart and grab the slippery rubber to roll it over my throbbing cock. Easing her legs open with one hand, I grab my hard cock with the other and guide it toward her, teasing the tip along her opening.

“Jesus,” she breathes. “You think I have the patience for this shit, Aidan? If you’re gonna fuck me in these shoes, do it, or I’m taking the bastards off, because they’re killing me.”

I push into her and slap her ass at the same time.

“Shit!” The word leaves her sharply. “You—”

“Think about that, baby,” I growl into her ear, pushing deeper into her. “I’m the one with the power here.”

Jessie grabs my back, nails scratching my skin. “You goddamn fucking asshole,” she finishes, dropping her head back.

I rub my hand over the spot I just smacked, easing myself out of her. “Like that, did you?”

“I hated it.”

“A hate-fuck. Excellent.”

With that, I slam into her harshly and she moans wordlessly. Her muscles clench around me as I move, each thrust as powerful as the last. She feels unreal around me—and if I didn’t have her nails digging into my back like she’s desperately trying and failing to get a grip, I’d need to pinch myself it’s so damn good.

She’s writhing beneath me, her legs getting tighter and tighter around my hips. Shit—the lace from her bra is scratching my chest, and it’s the oddest turn-on I’ve ever experienced. I curl my fingers around the back of her neck and draw her mouth to mine, kissing her moan out of her, swallowing the high-pitched whimper of pleasure she releases as my tongue swipes against hers.

She tastes so fucking sweet, sounds so good, feels so incredible—and if this isn’t the beer talking, I just found my new favorite fuck buddy.

Jessie tilts her hips up and presses herself into me, sliding one of her hands up into my hair. The tug she gives it is harsh and my thrust matches it, because, fuck me—I can’t get far enough into her. I’m buried inside her every time, completely hugged by her tight pussy, but it just isn’t enough.

She breaks the kiss and inhales sharply, turning her face so far away from me that the only indication I have of her pleasure is the clamping of her muscles around my cock, the sharp scratch of her nails in my shoulder blade, and the long moan she exhales into my ear when she can breathe again.

Fuck. Pleasure’s racing through me, my heart pounding double-time as my orgasm approaches its peak, desperate for release. It’s a burning throb, the total delightful agony of the buildup finally coming to an end, but I fight it, I hold it.

I promised her the best orgasm of her life, and I’ll be fucked if I’m gonna go before she does.

I palm her ass with my hand and move my mouth to her ear. “Come on, Jessie. You hate me, remember? Scream for me and tell me just how much you hate me. Tell me just how much you hate that I’m the one fucking you right now and making you feel this way. Tell me just how much you wish I weren’t the one to give you the best sex of your life.”

“You . . . arrogant . . . bastard. . . . Oh!”

“Don’t fight it. Scream, Jessie.” I hover my mouth over hers. “Scream like you hate me.”

I slap her ass again, bury myself to the hilt, hips notching impossibly far, unable to keep my orgasm in any longer.

And she does.

She fucking screams for me.

As my pleasure ripples through me in twitching muscles and a rushing pulse and sharp breaths, she screams and groans my name, holding my body against hers so tightly I can barely breathe.

We ride it out, me still moving inside her, her still spasming around me.

We ride it out until she’s a limp, half-asleep body on the bed, and I pull out of her, cover her with the sheets, and grab my clothes.

Jessie

It shouldn’t bother me.

But, really, he must have a serious lack of class to just disappear while I slept.

What kind of son of a bitch is Aidan Burke? He’s sure as hell a disrespectful little shit, his sexual promises be damned. The fact he delivered on them can be damned, too.

He’s real lucky I’m the kind of girl who sticks to her word. When I said no stories, no second times, no whatever it was I said while under the influence of cosmos, I meant it.

As long as we never have to see each other again. That’d be fabulous. So basically, Shelton Bay needs to expand by another few thousand people. Several thousand would be great. Like, twenty thousand.

The chances of this happening are, I know, slim. But a girl can dream. A girl’s gotta dream if she wants to stay sane.

A last-minute tour for Dirty B. would be epic. An impromptu concert on Mars would be even more epic.

Jesus, what the heck was I thinking? Sleeping with Aidan Burke? Did I have a temporary lapse in sanity last night?

Sweet shit, it was a long-ass lapse. Enough for him to convince me, me to fight my way out of my Spanx—with a little help from my friends—in a toilet cubicle in a club restroom, a car ride, an elevator ride, and foreplay.

Yep. That’s an hour at least. And that’s just for the Spanx.

I pay the cab driver and, with my heels hooked over my finger, creep my way up the path to the front door. I dig in my clutch for my key, but the door opens right in front of me and the smirking face of my little sister stares back at me.

She opens her mouth.

“Sas,” I whisper hurriedly. “Shhh. You can have bathroom time for the next month. I won’t complain.”

She raises an eyebrow.

“And I’ll even buy all your makeup for the next month. And that Alex and Ani bracelet you wanted.”

She raises her other eyebrow.

“The snakeskin Tieks Dad said no to?” Fuck, this is expensive now.

Slowly, she purses her lips, her teenage attitude contorting her features until she grins widely. “Daaaaaaaad!” she sings snidely.

“What?” Dad calls down the stairs sleepily.

“Jessie just got home!”

“Aw, Jesus, Sas!” I snap, shoving past her and throwing my shoes into a closet.

“She what?” The floorboards creak above me as I storm into the kitchen. The creaks are followed seconds later by footsteps on the stairs, a “Saskia, shut the door,” and his emergence into the kitchen. “Jessie?”

“Good morning, Dad,” I say cheerily, avoiding his gaze.

“Did you just get in?”

I suck my bottom lip into my mouth as my little sister takes a seat at the table and pulls out her phone with a self-satisfied smile. “Yes. But I—”

“Don’t have a curfew, I know. I still worry about your safety. Where were you?”

“I was out,” I reply vaguely.

“Jessie.”

“Dad, come on. I’m twenty-four. I can remember my whole night, my friends knew where I went. You don’t really want the details, do you?” Now I meet his eyes with an eyebrow quirked. “I mean, if I have to, I’ll tell you, but you might be creeped out for life.”

Silence lingers between us while he obviously weighs the decision between making sure I was safe last night and being scarred for life.

“Daddy,” I say sweetly. “Have I ever lied to you? And that time I climbed out of my bedroom window for that keg party when I was seventeen so does not count!”

“And the time you borrowed my truck to drive to Raleigh to get your hair done for prom, or the time you told me you’d cleared out the basement to get the expensive prom dress but hadn’t, or the time you told me you’d be back straight after prom and snuck in at two a.m.”

“Okay, but that was all senior prom! That gets exceptions.”

“Under what ruling?”

“The senior prom ruling.” I smile sweetly.

He stares at me, stone-faced, for a long moment. Then his salt-and-pepper-stubbled jaw twitches and his lips curve up.

“Oh. My. God!” Saskia shrieks, clapping her hand over her mouth.

“What?” I meet her eyes. “What?”

“You!” She chokes out. “You!”

“What?”

“You were with Aidan Burke! Last night!”

I open my mouth to argue but nothing comes out.

“Oh my God! You were with him! This is you, isn’t it?” She shoves her phone screen in my face then removes it so quickly that all I see is a blur. “Jessie! You slept with him, didn’t you? And you always refused to introduce me because he was, and I quote, ‘a giant butthead’! I can’t believe you!”

Again, my mouth opens, but I can’t speak.

“Jessie?” Dad asks, more amused than anything.

“You know, damn, is that the time?” I ask, looking at the clock pointedly. “Dang, I’ve gotta get to work. I’m opening the café this morning. I’d love to stay and address Sas’s crazy-ass friends and their early-morning screenshots or whatever, but I need to move. Sorry!”

“You’re such a bitch!” Saskia fumes after me. Dad immediately shoots her down, and I run up the stairs to the tune of him giving her the “You Don’t Call Your Sister a Bitch” lecture. Yeah, I named it. I might have heard it on more than one occasion.

Might have.

Unfortunately, I don’t have time to shower, so I yank a brush through my hair and douse it with dry shampoo before I slip out of my dress. A washcloth, some warm water, and soap washes as much Aidan Burke off me as I can, and blocking him out of my mind, I run back into my room, shut my door, and get dressed.

If only me needing to get to work really was a lie. I could do with an extra hour in bed.

Or, you know, another two or three.

I brush my hair once more to get rid of the dry shampoo. Some white dust from it falls onto my black work shirt, so I swipe at my boobs to get rid of it, then grab a hairband.

I run downstairs as I tie my hair into a ponytail and grab my purse from the kitchen table, ignoring my sister’s angry stare. I smile at her sweetly before slipping my sunglasses on top of my head and running out the door before Mom wakes up—no way will she be as accepting of my all-nighter as Dad was.

Probably because he’s the one with the gun license.

I close the gate to the front yard behind me and slide my sunglasses down as I turn into the bright early-morning sun. Within thirty seconds of walking down the street, I’m wishing I could be anywhere but the café today. Mind you, I think that every day. I’d always rather be in the tattoo studio with Jay while I save up enough money to take the tattoo course I’ve been dying to do since I left college two years ago.

As it stands, my art degree is in a very pretty frame above the mantel, but it’s not doing much else.

Damn expensive picture, if you ask me. Shame no one did.

I hum as I turn onto Main Street and push open the door to Penelope’s Café. The little bell over the door rings, and I wince as it echoes around the empty building.

“Jessie!” Ashley, Penelope’s daughter, sticks her head out of the kitchen door, her white-blond hair tied into a neat bun on top of her head. “Hi!”

“Hi!” I try to match her chirpy greeting, but by the way her eyebrows pull together, it obviously sounds like I’m just being a bitch. “Sorry. I’m a little hungover. I’ll try to be happy after coffee.”

Ashley grins. “I bet you’re hungover.”

Slowly, I load the grounds, press the On button on the coffee machine, and drag my eyes to her. “Um, what does that mean?”

“Aidan Burke.”

I cough into my hand and turn away. “You know, I might be sick. Fall cold and all that. I should probably head home.”

“Oh no, Miss Law!” She holds her hands out, blocking my only exit from behind the counter. “I want to know everything.”

My cheeks get hot as I remember everything. “No. No, you don’t. No one needs to know.”

“Rumor has it he’s good.”

“Rumors are rumors.”

“Rumor has it he’s dirty. Real dirty. As in, he puts the dirty in—”

“Did you forget I live in this town, too? I know all the rumors, Ash.” I pull my steaming mug from the machine and pour cold milk into it, stirring it in. “And I am seriously too hungover to have this discussion. Besides, I don’t kiss and tell.”

“I’m not asking about the kissing. . . .”

“I know.” I meet her eyes. “And I am still not telling you anything.” I sip the boiling drink. “Not a dang thing!”

No kiss and tell. No foreplay and tell. No delicious, glorious hate-fuck and tell.

We made a deal, and I’m sticking to it.

Besides, I’m not an asshole.

At least not all the time.

“Uh-oh,” Ash mutters. “Isn’t that your ex?”

“Does it look like a mole with chicken pox?” I mutter back, taking a deep breath and turning around. I look through the glass front door at the guy standing a few feet away from it, his hooded sweatshirt unzipped, his hands shoved into his pockets. If his stance wasn’t enough to tell me it’s Dax, I’d know by the scruffy, dirty-blond hair curling at the base of his neck. “Oh, look. It is.”

Ash laughs, throwing an apron at me. “I’m opening up. Want me to serve him?”

“A frying pan to the face? Sure. Be my guest.”

“Coffee, Jessie. I’d like to keep my job.”

“Nah, it’s okay. I’ve gotta face him sometime.”

“Kent!” She yells into the kitchen at the chef. “Keep the fryin’ pans away from Jessie here!”

“Yes, ma’am,” he calls back, laughing.

I might have a temper.

“Y’all are like pins and needles in my ass,” I mumble, finishing my coffee and putting the mug into the empty dishwasher. Ash’s laugh rings through the café as she dances her way to the front door with the key dangling from her pointer finger.

Chelsey is the first person through the door, and I blink harshly. “Don’t look at me like that,” she hisses, stalking toward me. “You didn’t come home last night, did you?”

“Say it a bit louder, Chels. I’m not sure my mom heard you.”

She rolls her eyes and, glancing at the people behind her, orders. “Latte, please, to go.” One more glance as I grab the takeout cup and she continues, “Why didn’t you text me? You should have texted me!”

“Dude, seriously. I fell asleep, okay? I didn’t know I’d be out so long.”

“Wow. Was it that bad?”

Ashley giggles. “Not from the way she blushed earlier. . . .”

“You blushed?”

“It’s been known to happen!” I blush again, putting the top on her coffee and pushing it across the counter toward her. She hands me a five and raises her eyebrows as I ring her up on the register and count out her change. “Stop looking at me like that,” I demand, shoving two dollars back into her hand.

“You better call me later.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She turns away and I smile, turning to my next customer. I run through the next two, the whole time becoming increasingly aware of a set of eyes on me. I wish I didn’t know them, because then maybe I wouldn’t feel like my skin is being sliced open and turned inside out with every second that passes and he doesn’t break his gaze.

My hand shakes as I ring up the order for the last customer before him. I take a deep breath so I don’t stutter as I give the total, because I’ll be damned if I’ll let Dax know I’m bothered by him turning up randomly at my workplace like it’s the only coffee shop in town.

I haven’t seen him since I slapped him across the back of the head and Chelsey dragged me out of the club.

“What can I get you?” I ask, looking up into his baby-blue eyes.

“A conversation,” he replies, leaning forward.

“You’re about three weeks too late for that.” My lips curve into a tight smile. “Can I get you a coffee? Eggs? Croissant?”

“Just a normal coffee, I guess.”

“Is that with cream and sugar?”

“You know how I have my coffee.”

“I thought I knew a lot of things about you, but I was wrong on most of them, so I’m not risking it on the coffee. Cream and sugar?”

His jaw tics as he clenches it. “Cream, two sugars.”

“To go?”

“Please.”

“Perfect. Coming right up.” I force my tight smile into a sweet, polite one and turn away. I flex my fingers before I grab a cup off the stack, hoping the tremble stays away. I know exactly why he’s brought his sorry ass down here this morning after three weeks of hiding, and I’m not entertaining his bullshit for longer than it takes to pour the coffee.