Page 62 of Ink Deep Devotion

“Please. I need this job. I love this job. I’ll give you a latte on the house; just don’t tell my boss I was late.” She rounds the counter, keeping her back to me as she grabs her apron and starts to turn on the machines.

Look at me; don’t turn your back on a stranger.

Who the fuck raised this girl? I need to have words with them.

“My alarm batteries died.” She grabs a jar of coffee beans and pours it into the grinder. Her voice is barely heard over the trickling thump of the beans filling the canister.

I walk closer to the counter. Next to the register, there are only two seats. I grab a stool and sit on it, but it wobbles under my weight.

Did she say batteries?“What about your phone?” I ask as I look around the store. It’s small, but it has much more comfortable seats placed in the corners. I can imagine reading a book in one of those chairs.

“Don’t have one.” She shrugs.

Why did you tell me that? Now I know you’re all alone here with me without a phone.I lick my lips, feeling more irritated than I have in years.

“You shouldn’t tell me that.” I can’t help but advise.

“Why? Do I need to be embarrassed that I can’t afford one?”

“No,” I cringe.“It’s not safe to tell strangers that.” I deadpan.

That has her turning, hands on her hips as her brow arches. She tries and fails to look stern in her flannel pajama pants.“Are you a serial killer?” She taps her foot.

What would her feet look like in high heels tapping and pressing into my back as I had her against this wall? Great, now I have to stay sitting because my cock is hard.

“No, but I’ve killed,” I reply.

She holds my gaze, then tips her head back and laughs.“You’re funny. Nowadays, it’s rare to find a man who can kill bugs. The last guy I went out on a date with gasped when he saw a spider.”

I never said bugs, but sure, let’s go with that.

“You might just have stolen my heart.” She fakes a swoon, but now my eyes follow her hand as it presses over her heart—right over her breast.

Maybe you stole mine. You thief. I think a punishment is in sight.

She grabs the caramel sauce and then turns, bending down to open the small fridge to grab the gallon of milk.

That ass!

Is she clueless or a huge flirt? She ignores my body's reactions as she starts to steam the milk. The high steam makes the ends of her hair begin to frizz slightly.“The gallery owners are next door, and the coffee shop across the street is filled.” She announces.

“And?”

She smiles at me again, and it has all the blood leaving my head rushing towards my other head.

“If you are a serial killer, I just want you to know that I can scream.” She states as she nods,“Loud.”

Fuck! How loud? Because I want to hear you scream as I bury myself inside of you.

Right here.

Dare me.

Challenge me to bend you over this counter and scream for me.

I clear my throat, raising my hand to rub my jaw. “What if screaming turns me on?”

Her eyes flirtatiously narrow, “I have tricks up my sleeve, so this ismewarningyou. If you want to kill me, that is.” She shrugs as she chuckles.“Harry, who is on shift at the coffee shop,has a gun. He thinks it’s hidden under his shirt, but you can see it when he turns.”

---