Page 22 of The Hellkeeper

So she nods.

Margaret beams, kissing Amelia’s cheek. “It’s lovely, sweetheart. Just lovely.”

Margaret’s eyes widen slightly when she notices me. “Oh?”

“A customer came in early,” Amelia explains quickly. “I couldn’t turn him away.”

Margaret pats her cheek with motherly affection. “Of course, dear. That’s good business sense.”

Amelia tries to compose herself, but I still see straight through her.

“Well,” she sighs, “please take a seat so I can take your order.”

This is going to be fun.

“What can I get you?”

“You.”

“Damien,” she hisses under her breath, eyes flicking to her side like she’s scared Margaret is going to materialize there any second.

“Fine,” I sigh, dragging my eyes over her body, eating her up. “Eggs. Toast. Black coffee. And you.”

She exhales sharply, looking anywhere but at me. “Just the first three,” she mutters, scribbling it down.

She shifts from foot to foot, those pretty thighs pressing together just so.

“You keep moving like that, flower,” I say lazily, “and I’m going to start thinking about why.”

“What?”

“You want something,” I tell her. “I can see it. Feel it. I bet if I touched you right now, if I spread those little thighs of yours, I’d find you soaking for me.”

“Stop it,” she orders, but there’s no conviction behind it.

“You want me to stop?” I tilt my head. “Or do you want me to tell you more? Tell you exactly what your body is craving?”

She’s crumbling.

And she doesn’t even know it yet.

She flees to the kitchen.

You won’t run for long, my sweet little flower.

The morning rush starts, but my girl isn’t quite the same.

She shuffles on her feet, tugs at her apron, presses her thighs together as she scribbles down orders. Her skin is flushed, her breath just a little too shallow.

She knows I’m still watching her.

She likes it.

The girl from yesterday walks in. The one Amelia clicked with.

I lean back in my seat, watching as they exchange smiles and soft laughter.

My beautiful girl is making friends. Good.

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