“Nope, not lost. I was waiting for you.” She strode up to him, her sketchbook under one arm and her fringe purse tapping her hip. She wore it cross-body and the strap did an amazing plumping thing to already pretty impressive breasts.
Not that he’d looked. Much.
“Me?” They started walking, legs brushing until they moved far apart enough to avoid a collision. He’d enjoyed brushing up against her and learning her scent. She smelled like a mixture of charcoal and eraser and, oddly enough, mossy earth. Sort of humid and tropical.
Something he wouldn’t tell her unless he wanted to end this conversation before it even started.
“Yes, you.” She shot him a sideways glance. “Come on, a guy with a cock like yours can’t play shy very well.”
“Oh, you’d be surprised,” he muttered, amazed he didn’t blush.
He didn’t normally have conversations like this with women. Or anyone. Hard to wear the hermit label proudly if talking to strangers came easily.
It had, once. Before Rochelle he’d been a lot more social. His willingness to chat up anyone who came into the gas station where he worked had led to their first conversation. Well, that and desperation. He’d been frantic to escape from his shitty life and Roch with her fancy manners and fancier money had provided a welcome diversion.
Flirting was fun, or it had been the few times he’d tried it since those days. But flirting invariably led to cozying up in shadowy corners with coffee. Then came snuggling and soulful looks in each other’s eyes. Then came fucking, and his London Bridge would come crashing down.
Women always wanted more than he could comfortably give, especially when they saw his big house and heard that he’d lost his last partner. He’d spent far too long taking care of someone to want to resume that role right away again. A good time was one thing. Bindings he didn’t choose another.
“Is that so? You’ll have to tell me all about this shyness problem of yours.” Brown eyes twinkling, she linked her arm through his. The movement caused her entirely too soft breast to rub against his arm, and he stifled a groan. “Let’s go get coffee. I know a great diner across the street.”
“The Bottomless Cup? Yeah, it’s a great place.”
“And it’s raining out, so a hot cuppa and some soup sounds perfect.”
His first inclination was to make an excuse. Despite his interest, he’d dissuaded women for a damn long time. If he said yes to coffee, what would he say yes to next?
And how many regrets would he have if he turned her down and went home alone?
“You’re right. It does.” He smiled and motioned for her to go down the short flight of stairs ahead of them. “I have to be at work early tomorrow but it’s not that late yet. You never told me your name, by the way.” Something he should’ve asked four months ago, workplace boundaries aside.
“It’s Kim,” she replied, continuing before he could comment. “Work?” she asked, bounding down the stairs. “But you were just working. Unless you consider that play.”
“Play shouldn’t hurt that much.”
Her husky laughter dragged sharp nails of desire down his spine. “Sure you want to come out with me? Maybe I should let you have some alone time.”
He didn’t respond. Luckily she didn’t seem to need him to.
“Or maybe we should have some alone time,” she continued, shooting him a sparkling grin. “To, I don’t know, play chess. I’ve heard chess releases a lot of…stress.”
He grinned back, suddenly eager to see where this led. She’d embedded herself inside him months ago. He couldn’t explain why. Didn’t want to. For once, being with someone held vastly more appeal than being by himself.
Lightly, he touched the base of her spine, testing them both. The heat from her body nearly scorched his hand. “Now you’ve made me curious about your moves.”
Her grin turned sly. “Oh, I’ll show them to you anytime you like, shy guy.”
Michael immediately changed the subject, which disappointed Kim more than she could say. Despite the utter stupidity in playing games with a guy young enough to pal around with her baby brother—hell, Michael was probably even younger than Bra
d—she couldn’t seem to help herself.
His hot body weighed into the equation, absolutely, but it was more than that. He had a haunted thing going on in his dark eyes that drew her like a hawk to a bunny. She wanted to pounce, though not to eat him whole.
Unless they were naked. That had definite possibilities.
Once they were seated across from each other in a corner booth of the diner, Kim propped her chin on her palm and smiled. Considering how they’d met, she found it a little odd that Michael seemed slightly flustered by her attention. Surely he got plenty of notice from the ladies even fully dressed, so maybe he really was shy. That classified him as strictly not her type.
Minus the haunted eyes thing. And the sulky mouth that tipped into a crooked smile at the slightest provocation. And the cock.