The black coffee was now almost white. His teeth hurt just thinking about how sweet it had to be. “Damn,” he whispered. “That ain’t coffee anymore.”
She shrugged, grabbed a tiny straw and gave it a quick stir. Dodge couldn’t unglue his eyes from her as she lifted the cup to her lipstick-free lips and took a sip, closing her eyes as she did so.
The simple act of her drinking coffee shouldn’t wake up every fucking cell in his body. Shouldn’t make his fucking skin prickle like he stuck a fork in an outlet.
But it did.
The way her throat rolled as she swallowed. The pleasure on her face as the coffee hit her taste buds and the warmth hit her gut.
Worse, the low moan that accompanied it all.
Fuuuuuuck meeeeeee.
He had to shake that shit off. This was not him. He had to be smoking too much potent Kush or something. “How old were you when you first started drinkin’ coffee?”
Her eyes opened and she took another sip. “How old were you?”
Christ. “You ever gonna answer any of my questions?”
“Are you?”
He barked out a laugh, thankful that her stubborn streak pulled him back to reality. With a shake of his head, he turned and leaned back against the counter, studying her. “You ran out of my place early this mornin’.”
He was usually a light sleeper so he was surprised when her fleeing his apartment at some crazy hour didn’t wake him. Once he did wake up, he actually had a difficult time prying himself from the couch. Parts on him were stiff and sore and not for a good reason.
“I didn’t run anywhere.” She lifted her coffee cup to her lips and it hovered there. “Sorry I fell asleep in your bed. You should’ve woken me up and kicked me out as soon as you found me.” She leaned back against the opposite wall in the narrow room, cupping her coffee with both hands. Small, like her.
The space in the break room was tight since, from what he understood, it had originally been some sort of storage closet. It was about as long and as narrow as his apartment’s kitchen, if that.
With how they stood across from each other, her black combat boots were only a couple inches from his.
Her feet were tiny next to his.
Everything about her was petite.
But not breakable.
Fuck no, he recognized a survivor when he saw one.
It was in her eyes, in her responses, in how she carried herself.
She might be young but she’d already lived a life.
He wanted to know her story.
Who she was, where she came from, what made her the way she was.
He wanted to peel away those layers and get to her core.
He never had that urge before.
He didn’t like having that urge now.
He lifted his gaze slowly from her boots and up her skinny jeans, blue this time but with a couple of rips similar to the black pair. Her hips weren’t wide or curvy, and her thighs slender. He paused on her shapeless zippered hoodie that hid the top half of her body.
Syn was not his normal menu choice.
Never once had he ordered a salad over a thick fucking steak smothered in A.1. Sauce. Carrots were for rabbits.
He fucked like a rabbit but didn’t eat like one.
Still… Right now, he wouldn’t mind picking some lettuce out of his teeth.
The zipper on her kitty cat sweatshirt was pulled all the way up hiding whatever she was wearing underneath it.
“You into cats?”
He waited for her “Are you into cats?” to come boomeranging back at him and was surprised when she actually gave him an answer. “No. Hate them. They tend to be assholes.”
“Then why would you wear a cat sweatshirt?”
“It’s not a cat sweatshirt. It’s a sweatshirt with cat ears.”
This chick… “Guess you can find an argument with everythin’.”
She took a long sip of her coffee as she contemplated his words. “Guess I can.” She tilted her head. “Look, sorry I slept in your bed last night. I don’t even remember climbing in. But there was no reason for you to be delegated to your own couch.”
He lifted one eyebrow. “You sayin’ I coulda joined you?”
Her mouth gaped open slightly, then snapped shut. “Like I said, you should’ve woken me up.”
“You looked exhausted and after seein’ that…” That hovel on wheels. “Where you sleep every night… Hell, even before that, I knew you needed that bed last night more than me.”
Her torso slowly lifted as she drew in a long, deep breath. She released it just as slowly. “Thank you.”
“That had to fuckin’ hurt.”
“I take it back.”
“Too late. No backsies.”
Her lips twitched. “No backsies?”
“Never heard that before?”
“Not since,” she shook her head, “I don’t know… since I was ten, maybe?”
“How long ago was that?”
Her eyes narrowed. “Why do you care how old I am? It’s like you’re obsessed about it.”