Dying—seriously dying—inside, I hop on my bike and bolt toward the cafe. I fully anticipate company, and within minutes, I’m greeted with a familiar spicy scent and soft lips at my ear as Eric steps in line behind me.
“Coffee, black. Meet me next door,” he whispers, slipping something into my pocket and disappearing out the door.
It takes me a few seconds to move. He’s really good at breathing down my neck, dissolving my panties, and turning my resolve into mush. Retrieving the twenty he slipped into my back pocket, I risk a glance back, but he’s gone. Men like Eric should come with a warning. He’s relentlessly … everything.
Relentlessly sexy.
Relentlessly intriguing.
Relentlessly opinionated.
“Welcome. Let me know if I can help you with anything,” a young blond woman says when I slip into Eric’s T-shirt shop with coffees.
“Actually, I’m here to see Eric.”
“Oh! You must be Anna. He’s in his office. It’s right back there beyond the restroom.”
He told his employee about me. I wonder what he said.
“Thanks.” I return a hesitant smile before toting the two cups of coffee toward the back.
“Good morning. Shut the door.” Eric leans back in his chair and props his feet up on the desk—red tennis shoes with white laces. From their pristine appearance, I’d say today is the first day he’s worn them. They go well with his white shirt that has red lettering: I don’t bite … usually.
“Black coffee.” I shut the door, hand him his coffee, and dig out his change from the pocket of my gray skort.
“You can keep the change.” He smirks right before taking a sip of his coffee.
“I’m good.” I lay it on the desk and start to step back, but he snakes his hand around my bare leg.
“Did you sleep well?” One hand inches up my leg while he casually sips coffee with his other hand.
I swallow hard when his fingers graze the bottom of my ass and his thumb stops at the apex of my legs. “I did,” I squeak. “You?”
He shrugs. “I got more sleep than I planned on getting.” Again, he sips his coffee like his other hand isn’t planted in my very personal space.
“Oh yeah?” I attempt to mirror his casualness, but I’m standing next to him, not reclined in a chair, so it’s a little harder for me to come across as relaxed.
“Mmm … yeah. I had plans to do things to a certain someone.” His tongue slides along his bottom lip at the same time his thumb teases the crotch of my skort.
“I have work.” I take a cautious sip of my coffee, attempting to mask the slight strain in my voice.
Step back!
“I think this is a bad idea,” I say.
Step back!
I have no willpower. What is wrong with me?
“Coffee is never a bad idea.” His thumb moves to the exact part of my body I felt certain he couldn’t find last night—until he did find it, manipulated it, and destroyed me in the process.
Here I am … refusing to step away because I welcome his destruction.
“We live in the same building. As a rule, I try to avoid setting up awkward situations with people I see on the regular. Like co-workers and neighbors.”
“Awkward situations?”
I sip my coffee then nod as he sits up (hand still on my leg like it’s stuck) and sets his cup on the desk. Then he takes my coffee and places it next to his before his other hand claims a matching position on my other thigh, pulling me between his spread legs.
“It’s uh…” my fingers do their own thing, deeming it necessary to mess with his slightly damp, wavy hair “…bad news when things end and we have to pretend they never happened, which is impossible to do. I have to watch you parade women in and out of your apartment, and you have to witness me coming home early in the morning, which means you’ll know I spent the night at someone’s place.”
Pressing his lips together, gaze locked to mine, he nods slowly. “So you do stay the night … just not at my place.”
I roll my eyes. “I live in the building.”
“Sorry … did I not hear you say goodbye? Did I miss the note you left on the nightstand? We haven’t shared phone numbers, so I know you didn’t text me. You skittered out of my place in record time. Were you even fully dressed when you left?”
“Pfft … of course I was dressed.”
His gaze washes over my face, pausing on my cheeks. “Liar. You blush when you’re turned on and you blush when you lie. So either you’re turned on or lying?”
Both.
I don’t want to admit to either one.
“I didn’t want to deal with what came next.”
“Next, I planned on letting you read to me while I let my tongue explore …”
I jump when his thumb shows me where he planned on letting his tongue explore. A nervous laugh vibrates my chest. His hands slide down a few inches. One followed by the other, he lifts my legs up to straddle his lap. My hands drop to his shoulders as his hands plant on my waist.