He flashes a lopsided grin and shrugs, like he’s embarrassed over the compliment. I don’t know why he’s walking with me, but it’s better than walking alone, so I let it go. The last time we were alone together didn’t exactly end well, so my guard is up. He’s made it no secret he doesn’t care much for me. It’s not like I plan to hang with the guy, but he’s not a complete loser. Tonight proved that.
“Are you and Kayla doing the park Wednesday?”
I slow and look at him, debating changing my opinion of him back to being a complete loser. “Why would we do a park?”
“It’s movie night,” he tells me like I should know. I may have seen flyers around campus but never pay attention to them. “Footloose.”
Grinning, I nod. I love that movie.
“Emma says Kayla has been talking about going to a movie in the park since forever.”
“Why tell me?” I stop and study him as he turns and walks backward.
“Thought it would earn you a few brownie points. From what I hear, sounds like you could use them.”
“Why would you help me? I thought we didn’t like each other.”
That lopsided grin returns as he picks up his step. “Oh yeah. Guess I forgot. See ya.”
As he faces forward and breaks into a jog, I wave and wonder if I’ve misjudged the nerd assigned as my partner.
{Kayla}
I hate mornings. They come way too early. The coffee is never strong enough to deal with the smell of five thirty in the morning. These six a.m. shifts suck ass. I hate Mondays and also hate all the breakfast lovers of the world. It’s their fault I have to get up so early to serve them. Damn overachievers.
Like I have any room to talk. Instead of doing anything fun like ever, I spend most of my spare time studying. I add myself into the mix of overachievers and damn me, as well.
“Good morning,” Jake sings and practically bounces into the kitchen, grabs a mug off the hook above the sink, pours a cup of the glorious liquid, and dances around me. All in the same, smooth move.
“If you say so.” Goddamn morning people. I look at him—more like glare at him—and he slows to a stop.
“It’s not a good morning?”
“It’s morning,” I point out the obvious and take the coffee from him, inhaling the steam. “That means it’s not good.”
He grabs another mug. “Someone’s not a morning person.”
“What gave me away?”
He faces me, a wicked glimmer in his eyes. “You know what you need?”
“Oh, please tell me, wise one.” I set my coffee down in preparation. I don’t trust that look in his eyes. He’s about to do something that requires physical exertion—like me running from whatever it is behind that look. “If you say anything close to sex, I will end you.”
“A night off.”
That surprises me. It takes me a few seconds for it to sink him. “You… You aren’t going to try to seduce me?”
“Is that an option?”
Damn it. I shouldn’t have said anything. “No, Jake. It’s not.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.” My lie comes out as a question. That yes is not even close to the truth. Hearing sex as an option has my libido awake before the rest of me.
“You don’t sound convinced.” He slowly approaches and I back into the kitchen counter. No sex in the morning. It’s one of my rules. Sex should be done at night. Preferably with the lights off. It makes a mess. I’m sure I could come up with more reasons, but I don’t have the energy or brain power without being adequately caffeinated.
“Jake,” I whimper. Damn it. Why am I so weak when it comes to this man?
He stops and studies me. “Are you okay?”
Don’t do that. Don’t ask me something that will have me drop my guard. And panties. “I—I’m fine.” Another lie. It’s become quite the habit with him.
“No, you’re not. You’re beyond stressed. Let me take you to a movie.”
“You and me in a dark theater?” I’d never last. He’d have his way with me before the opening credits finish. And I’d let him. “I don’t think so.”
“It’s at the park.”
A movie in the park? I’ve always wanted to do that, but I’m not about to admit that to him. He couldn’t have known that. My money is on one of my friends letting him in on something else about me he doesn’t need to know. “What movie?”
“Footloose.”
Of course he’d choose a movie where the main character is some rebellious guy out to break all the rules. It’s perfect for him, but not for me. “I’ll pass.”
“Please, Kayla? Take the night off. You need a break. Let me take you out. You want a different movie?”
“No.”
“A different park?”
“No, Jake.”
“Then why not?”
I want that movie and in the park. I just don’t want it with him. It’d be too much like a real date. Too, well…real. We aren’t a thing. The longer we’re living under the same roof, the more that line blurs.
“What can I do to convince you to relax?”
“Go back to seducing me,” I joke. When his eyes darken, I realize it didn’t come out the way I wanted. Or maybe it did. “Jake, I was only kidding.”
“Were you?”
“Yes.” Again, it comes out as a question.
“You need to relax. Did you know orgasms are a great way to relax?”
That shocks me into jumping wide awake. “I don’t want an orgasm.” Another lie.
“You do.” He doesn’t slow, so I run to the rear of the kitchen, next to the stove. When he continues to move toward me, I grab a wooden spoon out of the wire basket on the stovetop and hold it up like a weapon. “Oh?” He wiggles his brow. “Adding utensils. Kinky.”
“Jake—” is all I get out before he pounces. I scream and try to escape, but he’s got me trapped, a strong arm on either side of me. Knowing how pointless fighting against him would be, I try reasoning. “I’ve already showered.”
“Even better.”
“I don’t have time for another one.”
His grin widens.
I try another approach. “I need to get to work.”
He holds me in place against the wall between the fridge and stove with the weight of his body and bites my lips. He slips a hand under my uniform skirt and cups the fabric of my panties. “You’re too tense, baby. You need to relax. Let me help.”
“Do those lines usually work?” Because if they didn’t, what he’s doing with his hand certainly would. He slides my panties down and tosses them aside. He then uses his foot to spread my legs and slips a finger between my wet folds. When he barely brushes a finger across my clit, I nearly collapse.
“Are they working now?”
“No.” I can’t stop lying with him. Hell yes, they’re working. Add in what he’s doing with his hand and I’m ready to jump into his arms.
“Really?” He eases two fingers into my aching center and I shudder. “Jesus, Kayla. You’re already soaking wet. How about we do something about that?”
“Jake,” I whimper, not sure where I’m going with that. With the way he’s touching me, his fingers inside me, his thumb assaulting my clit, I can’t even remember what day it is.
A shiver of arousal washes over me and shatters my resistance. I throw my arms around his neck and pull his lips to mine. His kisses make a person forget how to breathe. They definitely have that effect on me.
“I came prepared,” he says and whips out a little foil package.
“You had this planned all along, didn’t you?”
He grins and plants a kiss as he lifts me into his arms and sits me on the counter. We don’t break our consuming kiss as he rolls a condom onto his rigid cock. I respect the hell out of him that I don’t have to ask. Scooting my ass on the counter until I’m hanging over the edge, he then holds my head and devours my lips.
With a thrust, he enters me and I cry out from the pleasure and
burn. He stretches me. I whimper as he works all the way inside me. Our hips meet when he’s buried to the hilt. His coarse hairs brush against my clit, over and over, as he drives in and out.
“Come for me, Kayla. Come for you.”
He reaches between us and plays with my clit, and I throw my head back. Oh, God. I can’t stand it. “You don’t play fair.”
“Yes,” Jake hisses and bites my neck. It hurts and I love it. “I know.”
“Do that again.”
He does and I dig my nails into his back. He growls in response. “Kayla.”
“Bite me, Jake. Again.” This time he nips my shoulder and then licks and blows on it. I shudder. “Oh, Jake.”
He pushes into me and I’m panting. The pleasure is too much. His strokes. The flicks of his finger. One final plunge and I scream as I scrape my nails down his back.
“Shit.” Jake slams into me and holds me tight as he stiffens, jetting his release. “Kayla. Oh, Kayla.” He slows and finally stops as he pants against me. My breathing matches his. After several small nips and kisses, he pulls back. “Better?”
“Oh my God. Definitely.” I slide off the counter and find my panties to slip them on. My legs barely hold me, and I use the counter to keep me vertical. Maybe he’s right. We should make a few rules of our own. “New rule.”
He’s already dropped the condom into the trash, righted his clothes, and is washing his hands. “What’s that? And if you say no more kitchen sex I’m moving out.”
I laugh and sneak up behind him to kiss the back of his neck. I have to stand on my tiptoes to reach. “An orgasm every morning. That’s our deal. No matter how pissed we are at each other. No matter the mood we’re in. We take a timeout and say good morning with an orgasm.”
“Deal.” He pulls me into his arms and loses his smile as he stares deep into my eyes. He then drops his attention to my neck. “Where’s your necklace?”
I touch my throat as it closes. I can’t believe he remembers something as simple as a necklace. Well, it may be simple to him. To me, it’s my greatest treasure—now my greatest loss. My grandmother gave me that necklace before she died. “I lost it in the move. I looked everywhere for it. It has to be in my old bedroom somewhere, but damn if I can find it.”
“I bet I can find it.”
“No,” I shake my head and smile. I can’t stop smiling. That was one hell of an orgasm. “That’s okay.”
“It’s your favorite. I’m serious.”
I laugh. “I’m sure you are.” The way he’s looking at me, like he can see into my soul, sends my pulse into orbit. I love it when he looks at me like I’m the only person in the world.
“You have the most beautiful smile. You should show it more often.”
And our moment is over. Way to go and ruin it by making it personal. My heart flutters and it scares me. I’m the one insisting there be no strings attached. I can’t break my own rule by having feelings for him. “That’s my cue.” I grab my purse. “See you when I see you.”
“Kayla?”
Slipping into my coat, I then hurry out the front door, slamming it behind me and rest back on it. How am I going to get through this temporary domicile with Jake being so damn likable? He’s hard to resist even when I don’t like him. I can’t imagine what will happen if I start liking him. Like staying by my side and promising to come back to the apartment with me. Like standing up to my friends when they threatened to have a complete stranger grant my wishes. I knew they were bluffing, but he didn’t. He went toe-to-toe with them all at the same time to protect me.
And then there’s the movie in the park. What angle is he working by insisting I take the night off? Jake’s always working an angle. It doesn’t matter that it’s exactly what I need. He doesn’t get to give me exactly what I need. He doesn’t get to know exactly what I need when I don’t even know what I need until he announces it.
But then he offers to find my favorite necklace. Why? Because he knows it’s my favorite. I don’t know if I’ve ever admitted that. It doesn’t matter. It’s the fact he knows.
Shit. It’s too late. I already like him. I am so screwed.
I push away from the door and rush down the street before I change my mind and go back inside. I’ve already mapped out the walk to work and timed it. The diner is on this side of campus so it takes me a little under ten minutes to get there. I totally had time for Jake to work his magic again. I sigh at the lost opportunity and unlock the front door of the diner.
This is already going south. I can’t stop thinking about Jake and that wicked glimmer in his eye when he declared I needed to relax. Oh, how right he was. For the first time in a long time, I’m looking forward to mornings. I’m also looking forward to Wednesday night. A movie in the park. With wine. I’ve always imagined it with wine.
Alfonse’s deep voice fills the diner as he sings, something he does every morning. He’s owned the diner forever and a day, is older than dirt, and moves faster than anyone I know. He came from the French Quarter in New Orleans who knows how many years ago and never lost his Creole accent. When he sings, which is all the time, his accent is more pronounced. It used to annoy me, but now I just go with it. I’ve caught Emma singing along several times when she works the weekend shift. Damn morning people. She never used to do anything in the mornings but yawn and bitch. Once she met Ryan and started running with him before work, she comes in all grins. Talk about annoying.
Then again, maybe she has the same arrangement with Ryan I have with Jake. An orgasm is one hell of a way to start out the day. It would explain why she’s all smiles.
“Miss Kayla? Dat be you?” He yells from the back in that thick accent. I think he draws it out on purpose. I’m not about to call him on it. I need this job.
“Good morning, Alfonse.” I hang my coat on the rack and shove my purse under the counter.
“You be early.”
“Only by fifteen minutes.”
“Everytin’ okay?”
No, but I’m not about to share my angst with my boss and instead wipe down the counters as I get the diner ready for the breakfast shift. “Is today’s special the Southern home fries and hash?”
“Today be Monday?”
“Just checking.”
“Like you do every mornin’, cher. Let’s get da party started. I made enough for da entire college. Finals be startin’ next week. You kids need to eat, build up dat brain power.”
I wait until six a.m. to flip on the neon sign. The glow of the blue and red OPEN sign bleeds onto the street, shining on the wet pavement. Within minutes, students pour in and collapse at booths, tables, and the counter, looking about as happy being up at this hour as I am. I buzz around and make sure each cup is filled to the brim with coffee. A caffeinated student is a happy student.
The diner quiets down once I have everyone’s orders in front of them, coffee refills in their cups, and they all settle in to eat. The bells on the door slap against the glass and I look up from the cash register. My heart hits the roof of my mouth before plummeting to the bottom of my feet.
What is he doing here?
16
{Kayla}
Ian Hornsby waltzes in like he owns the place. He glances at me and quickly looks away, dismissing me like we were never anything. I hate that I let it hit me like an anvil to my chest. Sure, we’re exes. That doesn’t mean we have to be complete dicks about it. Well, he did text me a list of things wrong with me. I have every right to be a dick. He, however, does not.
He takes a seat at the booth and grabs a menu. With a deep breath, I approach with the coffeepot. If he dismisses me again, he’s wearing the coffee. “Good morning, Ian. Coffee?”
With a quick glance above the menu, he regards me, a frozen expression to really make me feel the love. “Krista?”
“Kayla,” I correct and ready the coffeepot. I hate him so much. Why did I ever go out with this man? Screw that. Why did I ever sleep with this man?
I know why. He was the
exact opposite of Jake. At the time, that’s exactly what I thought I wanted. Now? I can’t imagine being with someone so boring. So predictable. So…So…
So much like me.
I stumble back as the realization hits me hard. I’m the female version of Ian Hornsby. Kill me now. I hate this man, hate everything about him. Does that mean I hate me? I don’t have time to think about the answer to that troubling question. More customers walk in and take seats. Leaving Ian with an empty cup, I make sure each and every table have refills before replacing the pot on the warmer.
“I never got my coffee,” Ian points out.
“I never got an apology.”
“You want me to apologize?” He sounds put out. “For what?”
I whip around. “What about texting me a list of things wrong with me?”
“You wouldn’t take my calls. What do you expect?”
“How about common decency? You don’t text someone a list of their issues.”
“I figured you of all people would appreciate that. I mean, you did have a list of rules I had to follow when we were together. Lists are kind of your thing. It’s you and your rules above all else.”
“Really?” I whimper, hating how weak I sound. Am I really that bad? Jake accuses me of the same thing every chance he gets.
Ian sighs and closes the menu. “Look, I’m sorry for the way things ended. I just couldn’t stand one more minute failing to live up to your expectations.”
“That’s why you left?” And cheated? And sent me a list of things I did wrong?
“There’s no wiggle room with you. It’s on all the time.” He snaps his fingers several times to demonstrate his point. I debate grabbing the coffeepot to prove mine. “No one can measure up to Kayla Riggs’ expectations. Not even you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Forget I said anything.” The dick. Of course, he’d cower. That’s Ian Hornsby in a nutshell. He never could stand up to me. He never could hold his own when we fought—which was all the time. “Can I just get that coffee?”
The Heat Is On (TREX Rookies Book 2) Page 14
