Dangerous Kiss (Dangerous Noise 1)

Fuck, I'd like to. I smile back. "Teach me."

"We're on the bus all day tomorrow, right?"

"Yeah."

"Then tomorrow." She drags herself out of bed. Her eyes rake over me. She takes me in slowly, like she's savoring every second of it. Her tongue slides over her lips. "How much time do we have?"

"Half hour."

"Oh." She finds her underwear and bra on the ground. "I guess I better change."

"We can fuck on the bus if you want."

Her cheeks flush. "That's not going to endear me to Mal or Kit."

"They fuck on the bus all the time."

"Still." She changes into her clothes and zips her boots. "I'll grab you a coffee. Still dark roast, splash of milk?"

I fight my urge to smile. She remembers. "Almond milk so you can drink half."

Her cheeks flush, but she admits nothing about her coffee-stealing tendencies. "Iced or hot?"

"Hot."

She leans down to press her lips to my forehead. "Morning breath. Meet you in front of the hotel?"

"I'll be there." I stare at her ass as she leaves.

Violet arrives just in time to step onto the bus. As promised, she has a coffee for me. There's enough almond milk and sugar it's clear the drink is half for her, but I need the caffeine too much to mind.

Most of the time, I drink my coffee black, but not because I prefer the flavor. It's because drinking it like this—sweet and creamy—makes me think of her.

She steals half the coffee as we hang out in the small kitchenette.

Mal and Kit hang out on the couch, speaking in hushed voices. Joel hides behind his sunglasses, occasionally groaning about how loud or bright it is in here.

Mal and Kit take turns laughing at his hangover.

For me, this is normal. It's normal enough it feels like home. But Violet looks nervous. She alternates between shooting Mal frustrated glances and watching me make breakfast.

I wait until I'm done constructing our scrambled eggs, with vegetables and one avocado for each of us, to ask about it. "You want me to tell Mal to go fuck himself?"

"No. He's just…" She scoops eggs with her fork and takes a long, slow bite. "These are really good."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." She takes another bite, chewing and swallowing for longer than should be humanly possible. "It's not important." She looks up at me with a smile. "Try these. They're amazing."

Maybe it's not important. I squeeze into the seat across from her and try the eggs. They're as good as any eggs I've ever had.

"See." She plays with her fork. "You're good at lots of things."

No. I'm good at a few things. Not at the one thing that matters to me at the moment—getting Violet to open up to me.

I steer the conversation to her favorite topic—sci-fi TV shows—and get lost in the way her green eyes light up with enthusiasm. Violet spends most of her time trying to convince people she's tough. She is tough, but she's soft too. She's full of passion, enthusiasm, and understanding.

We hit enough traffic that the drive to Seattle takes four and a half hours. Sitting across from Violet makes the time fly by.