Page 48 of Jersey

"Boredom," I say, dropping the spoon into my coffee before adding a little caramel-flavored syrup.

"Eli has been asking for a dog," he says absently, but it reminds me of just how many lines I've already crossed where this man is concerned.

I may not be directly connected to this man, but it could be argued and very easily won that I've crossed that personal/professional line because of his connection to Eli.

"Jericho and Aspen have agreed to let me bring Kiva to the cabin so Eli can visit with her," I say as I lean against the counter opposite where he's standing.

His eyes drop to my mouth as I lift my cup of coffee and take a sip. I can't tell if it's his attention or the hot liquid running down my throat that heats up my body.

I'm afraid it might be a combination of the two which spells more trouble than I have the energy for right now.

"I don't know that he'll ever let her leave," he says, his eyes taking what seems like a million years before they finally lift back to mine.

"I guess we'll find out," I say, looking away because I already feel like I'm just staring at him like a crazy woman.

How does he look even better with his hair mussed from sleep and stubble marking his jaw?

"I have an appointment with him later this afternoon."

The small talk feels weird, but what else should we be talking about? It's not like I'm going to be the one to bring up the other night or even him watching me relentlessly many times while I'm secured to a St. Andrew's cross at a damn sex club.

I feel even more embarrassed about being there now that I'm fully clothed than I did when his eyes were on me while I was stark naked.

"I think—"

He pauses when the click of toenails drifts into the kitchen.

We both watch the far corner of the entryway, waiting for Kiva to appear.

It seems I'm not the only one struggling for conversation this morning.

Kiva's eyes search the room until they land on me, but I don't maintain her attention for very long before those eyes shift to Jersey.

She lifts her head, sniffing the air before moving her body into a long stretch. She shakes as she stands back to her full height, her tail wagging when she notices the food in her bowl. As if she's in her own little world, she proceeds to ignore us in favor of her breakfast.

"What are your plans for the day?" I ask, trying to make it sound like I'm simply carrying on a casual conversation, but it doesn't feel casual.

There's so much left unspoken that I can't help but feel like I'm under a microscope, as if he needs to examine me in order to figure out what I might not be saying.

"What do you mean?" he asks, his voice turning a little growly as his eyes once again drift down my body.

I fight the urge to cross my legs and squeeze my thighs together because doing so would draw way too much attention to how this man makes me feel. The last thing I need is for him to read me like an open book and have some sort of opinion about it.

Remaining still doesn't prevent his eyes from roaming the length of my body once again.

"Will you stay here while I'm gone?"

"Do you want me to be here when you return?" he challenges, or at least it feels like a challenge.

"I just need to know what your plans are," I say, clearing my throat when the last couple of words come out weak.

"Because my plans affect your plans?"

I tilt my head, frustration growing inside of me at the realization he thinks my life is somehow a game.

"I need to know if you're going to be in my space when I get back from the cabin," I say, standing from my leaning position as if my full height would somehow make me taller despite our near-foot height difference.

I feel like he's toying with me, and there's nothing I hate more than someone who plays games and doesn't say what they mean.

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