by Penn Rivers
“Yeah.”
I shivered, rubbing my hands together to create some warmth until the coffee arrived. I felt Kane watching me, and my gaze was pulled to his. He looked troubled.
“You’re still cold.”
A nervous laugh escaped. “I’m cold a lot. I’m used to it. Does make the summer months sweeter though. Gives a girl something to look forward to.”
Reaching for my hands, he wrapped them in his, and I swallowed back my surprised gasp. They felt as hot as flame. Rough and soft at the same time. His warmth seeped past my skin and into my bones, making it hard not to moan at the sensation. Like sinking into a hot bath. How do you keep that satisfaction quiet? It’s impossible.
I bit my cheek, desperate to not embarrass myself with him.
When I looked up, he was frowning deep. “Woman, you’re freezing. Why didn’t you say something?”
My eyebrows shot upward at his concern. At his… chastisement. It wasn’t like any other time I’d been scolded by a man. It wasn’t because I’d done something wrong but because… because he was worried?
“I’m okay.” My words came out in a whisper instead of strong like I intended, and were met with a furious glare that somehow also softened his eyes.
“Bullshit, Gem,” he murmured, and somehow made it sound intimate. That sexy voice… it was doing things to me. “You’re like ice. I shouldn’t have walked you here in the cold. Should’ve warmed you up first.”
He brought my hands to his mouth, cupping his around them and breathing warm air into the cocoon he’d made. He was like a dragon, breathing fire onto the frost covered ground to melt it away. The heat of his breath gave me a whole-body shiver.
“Damn it,” he whispered, glancing toward the counter where our waitress was getting the coffee ready. “Gotta warm you up. Coffee will be here soon. Come here.”
Kane didn’t wait for me to respond. He pulled me under one massive arm, curling it around me until I was flush against his heaving ribs.
And oh.
Oh my.
So warm.
He was solid and hard with muscle. But so deliciously hot, it only made me shiver more. Damn it. I couldn’t stop. It was as if my body refused to pretend anymore. It went full surrender. Hands up. Screaming touch me with your warm man-hands, I have no shame!
His palms moved up and down my arms, making chills rise to meet his heat, and he pressed me closer like that would somehow help the trembles.
I knew it wouldn’t.
The more of him I felt, the more I would crave. Comforting things worked that way. And Kane… he was soothing me to carelessness.
I wound one arm around his waist, brushing my palm over his abs in the process and squeezing in close so my cheek rested on his chest, the heat of it blistering through his t-shirt.
I was a cat basking in the sun. Or a cat on catnip. Either of those descriptions currently fit.
But the bliss only lasted a moment.
Kane tensed at my touch.
And that was enough to break the spell he’d put on me.
It froze every movement. His hands on my arms. His breath in his chest. Maybe even the beat of his heart. I couldn’t tell. But everything just stopped.
I stopped too.
Breathing, moving… and had I just moaned?
Shit, shit, shit. What was I thinking, moving on him like that? Kane was doing me a solid, trying to warm me up, because he was worried. He was being a gentleman, and in return, I touched him. As if we were something other than acquaintances. Intimately even.
He must think…
My entire body flipped to hot as mortification spread through my veins.
He must think I’m a slut. Maybe he thinks I’d press into any man like this. Maybe he thought I was free with my touch since I was free with my body. Shit. How could I tell him it wasn’t true? That I hadn’t touched a man like this in over a year. That I had given up any chance of intimacy to whisk my son away from a dangerous environment and raise him alone. To keep us both safe, I’d made a decision to be alone for as long as it took.
There was no way to explain where I was coming from.
And even with all that, how could I move away? When his warmth was still bleeding into me and mixing with my humiliation to make me feel like a mid-August day.
It’s not so bad. You didn’t touch his crotch. Or do something stupid like kiss him. Just ease back. He’ll let go, and the weirdness will pass.
Yeah.
Carefully, I tried to slide away, praying he wouldn’t see how red my cheeks had become. Praying harder that the blush hadn’t crept down my neck and chest and made a streaky mess of me.
But Kane’s fingers tightened, grabbing on to stop me—
“Heeeeere you go, my sweeties!” With a flourish, the waitress was there, sliding the coffees and a steaming metal carafe onto the table before us.
I jerked to attention and Kane did too, clearing his throat. The awkwardness could be cut with a knife as we each reached for our coffee.
“Your food will be right out,” she said with a massive smile, like she didn’t even feel the weirdness we were both throwing off, and then hurried away.
I gripped the coffee like it was a lifeline keeping me afloat, and quickly stirred in some cream and sugar before cradling it close. I didn’t need the warmth anymore. I was a new sun named Humiliation. But it was something for my hands to do.
Beside me, Kane gulped his too and neither of us said a word. The longer we went without speaking, the tenser the air became, until I swore I could feel him vibrating beside me.
I wanted to look over so I could read him. See how much damage I’d done. Or say something. Anything. Crack a joke if I could think of one.
Was never very good at jokes.
He tipped his mug, taking a long sip, and when he lowered it, I peeked at him.
My heart thundered at his expression. His jaw was hard-set. Granite. His lips were a thin, angry slash. And his brows dipped furiously over his nose.
Damn it. I knew this look. Saw it when things got a little too wild at the club.
Kane was angry.
Angry though? I hadn’t straddled him or anything. Geez.
Unless he had a girlfriend. Maybe I’d put him in a terrible position. Goddamn it.
I shouldn’t be allowed near men I find safe. It made me lose my mind. I couldn’t afford to ever lose myself again.
Noah. Mom. They’re why I can’t be stupid over a man ever.
Not even one as solid and good as Kanaan Joseph.
My stomach twisted. I was sorry that I’d even come here with Kane. Should’ve stood my ground and waited for the bus.
Clearing my throat, I managed to find my voice. “I need to visit the ladies room.”
With jerky movements, he slid from the booth and stepped aside. I followed him out and hurried in the direction of the restroom. Every step felt like an escape. Which made me incredibly sad.
Maybe Kane wasn’t my safe fortress after all. Maybe no one was. Maybe safety was just an illusion.
Chapter Five
KANAAN
I watched Gemma rush off, a vile curse hanging just inside my lips.
I’d overstepped a boundary. Crossed a line because I was too focused on getting her warm. The way her body shivered… I hadn’t meant to pull her close. Hadn’t given it a single thought. Just acted. So when she wrapped one soft arm around me and nuzzled my chest like we were close… it stole my fucking breath.
Holy shit.
It took my breath away even now, and it was just a memory.
I’d almost kissed her head in response. It would have been natural. Just instinct. Like when I tucked her under my arm. As if we hugged every day, and shared the sweetest affection so easily it was habit.
Except we didn’t.
We didn’t.
She had someone else.
Someone who was on his way to get her right now.
Fuck.
I swallowed around the n
ew lump in my throat and stumbled into the opposite side of the booth. I wouldn’t make this worse by sitting so close. Besides, what would her man think if he found us sitting like a fucking couple?
Not mine. Gemma’s not mine. No matter how much I wanted her to be.
I chugged the rest of my coffee and poured some more from the carafe, determined to settle before Gemma returned. I had to harden myself to her before her ride showed. Otherwise how could I watch her walk away with someone else after she’d touched me?
She’d touched me.
Softly. Like a woman touches a man they want.
Fucking hell.
If she was playing with me… swear to god…
Would she do that? I’d never pegged her as the type.
My hands shook as I brought the mug to my lips, downing half of it in one nervous gulp.
I didn’t look up as she approached and slid back into her seat. Saying nothing, she sipped at her coffee and kept glancing at the counter. I stared hard at the table like it was speaking to me and needed my undivided attention.
I should say something.
I didn’t.
My throat felt chalk coated. Getting words past it would be a damn miracle.
“Maybe I should ask the waitress to box my food to go.”
I nodded instead of answering, and it pulled her gaze around.
“My ride’ll be here any minute.”
Again, I nodded, unable to form words.
“Kane,” she whispered, and the soft way she said it had the same effect as earlier. Made me putty, and I could finally look at her. “I’m sorry.”
My face twisted in reaction. My heart too.
“Sorry for getting too close,” she continued.
Sorry? For touching me. Shit. No, I didn’t want to hear that come from her mouth. I didn’t want to think there were any reasons for what she did except what I already thought. Which was just a jumbled path in my head that lead to because she wanted to.
She touched me because she wanted to. I was sticking with that.
“I don’t normally do that. I swear. I’m not that kind of woman.”
What kind? Affectionate? Soft?
Or one who wants another man when she’s already with someone else?
Fuck, my mind was going all jigsaw puzzle with her. I wanted to scream, say what you mean, woman. But clearly, she was having as much trouble finding words as I was.
“I don’t get close to people. But you feel safe. And you…” She cut off, leaving me hanging for her to finish. She shook her head, glancing away. Her throat bobbed with a hard swallow and she curled in on herself like she did sometimes for reasons I didn’t understand yet, but I needed to know the rest.
“Finish it.” The words ripped from my throat sounding all off. But it brought her attention back to me.
“You feel good,” she said, her voice so small it was barely a breath.
Her confession made me immobile. Inside, everything swirled and clashed like some great war. I fought her words like they were weapons, but I was also desperate for them to be true.
You feel safe. You feel good.
She shook her head again, looking everywhere but me. Looking like she wanted to be anywhere but in this booth.
“I’m sorry. Geez. I’m stopping now. I just wanted to explain. I… I hope I haven’t put you in a bad place. Do you have someone? A woman? Or… I… damn, I mean, how long does it take to make pancakes anyway?” Without waiting for an answer, she went for more coffee, gulping it the same way I had just minutes ago.
Did I have a woman? Why would she care?
Seconds eked by before I could find a response.
“You haven’t.”
She still didn’t look at me. “Haven’t?”
“Put me in a bad place.” Not exactly anyway. Not any worse than when we’d first walked in. Not really.
I was still head-smashed for her. She was still someone else’s. The only difference was I knew what it felt like to hold her for a second. And what it felt like for her to hold me back.
“I don’t have a woman.”
“You don’t?”
“No.”
“You just… you seemed so angry.” Her gaze stayed on her mug, safely away from mine.
“I am.”
Her shoulders dipped even farther. “Why?”
Why? So many reasons I couldn’t name them all. Some of them had nothing to do with her. Angry memories of a wounded past that for a second or two, felt like it had been nothing. A mere blip on my life. And all because of her touch.
A touch that wasn’t mine. A touch that wouldn’t be repeated.
Shit.
Control snapping, I reached across the table and forced her chin up until I could see her eyes. “Maybe it was a little thing to you. Maybe it was just an accident. But it wasn’t little to me. You put your arm around me and pressed your cheek to my chest like you want to be mine. But you aren’t mine, Gemma.” The snarl in my throat cut off, but I wasn’t finished. Her hitched breath almost stopped me, but maybe nothing could have. Maybe not even a freight train. Maybe not even a kiss. “Your man is on his way here now. The one you want to hide your job from—”
“My man?”
“—The one you’re ashamed for. If you care so damn much what he thinks of you, why are you apologizing to me? Why do you care if I’m angry? Why aren’t you worried about what he’ll think when he finds me here with you? Because I’m not leaving until I know you’re safely on your way. Home. With him. Because that’s who you should be snuggling up to. Not me. That’s why I’m mad.”
Her mouth hung open and the urge to run my thumb along her bottom lip was so strong I was having visions of it in my head.
I jerked my hand away. My gaze too.
“You’re the one who said come here,” she hissed. “You’re the one who made me feel safe.” Her voice had turned accusatory. Like I was the one with ulterior motives. But my touch had been purely innocent. I hadn’t thought twice about what I was doing or how tight her body was pressed against mine.
Mostly.
Well, shit.
That was the problem. Her actions had felt so damn intimate. I’d felt it deep. All the way into my heart, warm and sweet and sticky.
But to her, this must be nothing. That was why she couldn’t understand the anger. The way she’d nuzzled me must have just been thoughtless. A habit. Maybe one leftover from whatever she had with her man.
The thought made my stomach curl with anxiety.
“It’s my job,” I bit out.
“I know!” she snapped in return, and then drew in a sharp breath like she was trying to calm down. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? This is all just a big misunderstanding. It isn’t what you think. I told you when we got here, you could leave. You should have.”
I narrowed my gaze. “I’m not leaving you until you’re safely on your way. Home. With him.”
She shook her head, leaning forward. “You don’t understand. It’s not like that—”
“Mamaaaaaa!”
The excited squeal of a small child had us both jerking away to stare at the front of the diner. A small boy, maybe three or four, broke away from an older lady who looked suspiciously similar to Gemma. He ran through the mostly-empty diner, pumping his arms to gain speed.
He was a fast little thing.
Gemma slid from the booth just in time to scoop him up before he face-planted into the tile beside our table, and his little hands hooked around her neck as he gave a big sloppy kiss to her cheek.
What the hell was this?
“Mama, mama! I missed you.”
Mama?
Gemma grinned and it lit up her eyes like I’d never seen before. But there was a sadness there still. Something deep and longsuffering.
“I haven’t been gone too long have I?” she asked pecking a kiss to his forehead. “You’d still be asleep right now if it wasn’t for good ‘ol Charley breaking down.”
“I knowwww,” the boy
drawled. “Nana said Charley was bein’ ornery to ya.”
Gemma tickled his tummy, earning a happy squeal that hit me straight in the gut with how pure it was. This boy was Gemma’s.
“He is! We’ll have to get him to the car doctor and get him fixed up.”
“Again?”
“Yes, again,” she laughed.
The boy rolled his eyes, reminding me of a day when I was that innocent. When I didn’t know the ugly things that went on around me. When I didn’t feel like those ugly things were my fault.
“Nana said we might get pancakes too, if I got up and got dressed nice an’ quick like. Dat true?”
“Yeah, baby. That’s true. Those pancakes should be ready any minute now.”
“Yayyyyy!” He jumped up and down in celebration. Like his whole year had been made.
Pancakes made him do that? Interesting.
But then his eyes landed on me and he froze, all the happy-go-lucky just melting out of him like a sad deflating balloon.
“Who’s dat?” he whispered, seeming instantly ancient.
I recognized that look. It was what a child looked like when they knew too much about life. When they remembered it wasn’t all candy and butterflies. And pancakes. When they were aware of danger and sadness. When they didn’t feel safe even with their mama standing right next to them.
I knew, because I’d felt it so many times before.
It was what happened when innocence met reality. And it was too young for this boy. It had been too young for me too.
I swallowed hard.
Gemma stood as the older woman approached. She cleared her throat awkwardly, finally meeting my gaze again.
“This is Kane, sweetie,” Gemma said. “He works with mommy.”
I straightened my shoulders under the boy’s skeptical glare. “At the restaurant?”
Restaurant. Well, close enough. The club served drinks and bar food.
“Yes.”
“He looks awfully big,” the boy whispered to Gemma. “Does he smile?”
She glanced at me sheepishly before answering, “Not too often. Now don’t be rude, okay? He helped mommy tonight.”
“Well… okay then.”
“Kane, this is my mother, Rosa. Mom, this is Kane. He helped me get out of the cold and waited with me for you to get here.”
