Page 5 of Kissing the Grump

“Crap.” His gaze then travels to the mess left on my clothes. “Double crap.”

I want to tell him not to worry about it. Accidents happen. But he'd likely take it as some sort of friendly gesture when I need him to keep a wide berth from me, as often as possible.

“Gina is waiting,” I remind him.

“I'll replace the shirt. Just when I get paid?—”

I put up a hand to stop him. “Not necessary, kid.”

“Elliot,” he says, and I frown. “My name is Elliot. Not kid.”

Why did he have to give me his name? I was just fine thinking of him as some random face I'd pass on occasion. I don't know what to say and wonder if he's expecting my name in return. He won't get it.

“And I really do want to replace the shirt…Forrest.” He sounds almost shy as he says my name. A name I had no intention of giving him.

My eyes narrow. I'm going to kill Gina. “Like I said, it's not necessary. I have plenty just like this one.”

“You do seem to like your plain t-shirts,” Elliot mumbles.

My eyes snap back up to meet his. “You've seen me twice.” Technically, I suppose it’s been three times, but two instances had been on the same day. How would he know what I like and don't like?

Elliot shakes his head. “Saw you yesterday when you headed to that shop down the road too.”

“You saw me?” I wrinkle my forehead.

“Well, you did walk by the window and I was clearing tables, so…” He shrugs.

That other place is a block away. He would have had to watch for a while to track where I was going. I want to call him out on it, but I'm unsure where that conversation would lead.

“You're late,” I remind him again, and only when he jerks back do I realize I've been holding his shirt this entire time. The fabric slips from my hand and falls back into place.

“I have to go. I'm sorry about the mess.”

Once again, I'm tempted to comfort him in some way, so I’m relieved when he turns on his heels and rushes back toward his apartment. After his door closes, I glance at the crushed cup and sigh as I prepare for another day of working without my morning caffeine fix. If I go back downstairs right now I might actually say something to Gina about telling the guy my name.

Elliot. I find the name as endearing as he is. Endearing… There's that word again. What’s wrong with me?

I stroll down the hall and let myself into my apartment, clean up, and swap shirts. When I sit at my desk, I huff at the long list of emails waiting for me.

My skin still stings, so I pull up my shirt to examine the injury but it's a dull pink. Nothing serious. I'm more concerned about Elliot. His skin is naturally so pale the red looked painful. The last thing I need to think about is his body in any way, but my thoughts take a turn without my permission.

I glance at the leather couch centered in the living room and imagine all that pale skin on display, every inch of his uncovered. I picture him sitting there just for me, naked and waiting while I work.

This is such a bad idea, but I can't stop myself from unzipping my jeans and sliding my hand into my boxer briefs.

Would he watch me with anticipation lighting up those eyes? I think about him biting that soft lip, stroking his cock lazily to tempt me away from work. I wonder how big or small he is, finding myself not caring either way.

My hand wraps around my dick and I stroke once just to ease the ache building in my balls, but it's not enough. I can't getthose wide eyes out of my mind, and how they'd look with him on his knees while his lips are wrapped around my cock.

I stroke faster while imagining his tongue teasing me as he sucks. So eager to please.

My eyes slam shut and a groan rumbles in my throat as I come hard. Panting, I take slow breaths as reality rushes back in and my mind clears.

I just came in my fucking underwear thinking about some young barista I just swore I'd stay away from. I've been single for almost a year and plan to stay that way, possibly forever. I've had no issues even being tempted by a man in that time, so why him, and why now? I'm not in a hurry to let another man into my life, especially one as young as Elliot. Consider that lesson in life learned when I'd gotten engaged to a man around the same age as Elliot. A man who didn't understand monogamy apparently.

I push back in my chair and head to the bathroom to clean up once again, except this time I need a full shower. I also need to make sure one way or another I never run into Elliot again.

CHAPTER FOUR

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