Page 15 of Enemy Kisses

Ignoring his compliment, I give him a tight smile. “Welcome toHarry’s House. What can I get for you today?” There, that sounded professional.

He chuckles under his breath, then leans forward to rest his hands on the counter, his eyes skimming my mouth. “Another kiss would be great,” he whispers, so only I can hear him.

I narrow my eyes. “Not happening. If you’re not ordering, I suggest you step aside so I can serve my customers,” I grit between clenched teeth. I’d love another kiss, but that would be stupid.

His lips tilt higher on one side and his eyes sparkle—the various shades of blue dancing with silent humor. “Keep that shit up, Firecracker. It makes me hard.” He adjusts his pants, and I want to scream at him to get out. When I glance behind him, I remind myself I need to remain professional.

“Are you placing an order, Sir?” His eyes widen and I instantly realize my mistake.Damn it.

“Sir. I like that.” He leans across the counter, bringing him closer to me. “You can call me that next time we’re in private … if you like.” He leans back and winks, then peers up at the menu board. “What would you recommend?”

My brain spins, and I take a moment to realize he’s switched gears. “Any of the croissants are great for takeout.”

“Oh no. I want to sit and enjoy my meal here.”

Damn him. Of course he does because he gets off on torturing me. I paste on a fake sweet smile. “Would you prefer a croissant or a crêpe?”

“Crêpe, I think.”

“Sweet or savory?”

“Savory. With a bit of fire. I love some spice and heat.” I roll my eyes and his smirk returns.

I’ll give him spice and heat. “Certainly.” I smile tightly. “I have the chili crêpe, which you may enjoy. Will that be all?”

“Sounds great. I’ll have a short black as well, please.” He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his phone to pay when I ring up his order. He taps the counter before stepping away to find a table, and I breathe a sigh of relief that he’s no longer in my vicinity. I’m definitely not admiring his ass as he strolls away. I serve the customers who were in line behind him, noting it’s almost closing time.

Judy takes over the counter so I can make the crêpes, adding extra chili to Finn’s order for good measure. I should feel bad, but as much as I dig deep to find the emotion, I can’t. Does he still deserve my ire since the issue that was initially a problem seems to be resolved? Probably not. But I need to hold on to my annoyance with him to maintain the necessary distance. Besides, he’s shown no remorse for his response to my email. Plus, he owns a pub. And as a pub owner, I bet he drinks all the time. I swore I’d never date a man who drinks on the regular.

Drawing in a deep breath, I take Finn’s crêpe to his table, along with his coffee. I place his food on the table, when, in reality, I’d dearly love to tip the plate upside down in his lap—I grin at the thought.

“Service with a smile. I may have to come here more often.” Maybe Ishouldhave delivered his food to his lap after all.

My smile drops and I narrow my eyes. Leaning down to keep my conversation private, I whisper, “That’s because I spat in your food.” Not that I did, of course. That would be unhygienic and completely unethical.

A loud rumble of laughter bursts out of him and he turns so he can whisper in my ear. “We’ve already exchanged spit, or did you forget?” His warm breath ghosts across my ear and a shiver races down my spine.How could I forget?It’s been on constant replay since it happened.

“Eat your food and get out,” I snap. Standing to my full height, I smooth down my apron and spin on my heel, dismissing him. I busy myself behind the counter, covertly watching him take his first bite of the chili crêpe. His eyes widen and his mouth drops open. I snicker to myself but then notice his face is turning an alarming shade of red.

Shit! Maybe I took it too far.

He glances around and when his eyes land on the self-serve water station, he rushes toward it, pouring himself a glass of water and then gulping it down. He repeats the process, and I start to feel bad. Finn carries a bottle of water and his glass back to his table and retakes his seat, coughing quietly into his elbow. Once he has himself under control, he glances toward the counter and our eyes lock. His lips tip up on one side as they usually do and he salutes me. I tip my head toward him and serve my next customer with a gut full of guilt.

* * *

Should I go next door to apologize? I feel terrible that I acted out of anger and caused Finn so much distress. It was completely inappropriate, but worse than that … it was out of character for me. A knock at the back door interrupts my prep for tomorrow, as well as my thoughts. I pull it open. “Hey, Stella. How’s …” My words and my smile die when I lay eyes on the man who always seems to be at the forefront of my thoughts.

He stalks forward and I have no choice but to back up inside. Once he’s clear of the doorway, he closes the door behind him with an expression I can’t read. “Not Stella.” His stalking continues until I’m pinned against the stainless steel work counter in the middle of the kitchen; the cold steel digs into the lower part of my spine.

The air is thick with tension, and I swallow past the boulder-sized lump that’s formed in my throat as Finn leans over me, pressing his fists to the steel on either side of my hips—our faces mere inches apart. His warm breath feathers across my lips. “Did it feel good, Firecracker?” I open my mouth to apologize, but Finn shakes his head and presses his thumb over my lips. He traces my face with his eyes and my tongue pokes between my lips to taste his digit when I definitely shouldn’t. “Whatever comes out of your mouth next better not be an apology.”

It’s ironic really. Finn brings out a side of me I’d long forgotten, but he seems to like it, and I don’t know how to reconcile that. It’s a side I’ve spent my life burying deep because my parents did everything they could to squash my fire. They didn’t like it when I questioned them or when I pushed back against their endless list of rules and expectations. I think it’s the reason they dumped me with Grand-Mère instead of taking me with them on their travels. I lock my gaze with his. “Why would I need to apologize? It’s not my problem you can’t take the heat.” I tip up my lips, waiting to see what his response will be.

Instead of responding with words, he surges forward and takes my mouth with his. Our teeth clash and our tongues duel. He pushes his body against mine and without conscious thought, I wrap my leg around his hip and rub myself against him like the hussy I apparently am when I’m in his company. His pheromones must block my common sense, because I always act in ways I never do when he’s around. His kiss steals my breath, and his hands tangling in my hair cause a pinch of pain as he grips and tugs, holding me in place. He tears his lips away from mine and with panting breaths, trails his tongue down my throat to the V of my T-shirt and I shudder. My fingers find purchase in his hair, and I hold him in place as he licks across my exposed skin.

“So damn sweet,” he mumbles against my skin.

Dropping my head back, I enjoy the sensation of his smooth tongue followed by rough bristles which send goosebumps radiating across my body. I’m startled out of the moment when Finn pulls his mouth away suddenly and the screen door slams.

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