Page 139 of Breaking the Rules

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Fuck, I can't think of anything that sounds better.

Maybe I'm stupid or reckless or self-destructive.

I don't care.

I need this connection.

I need her.

"Hunter, hello?" Her ass brushes my hip as she moves past me. "Are you going to show me or do I need to walk to the place down the street?"

I motion to the kitchen. "After you."

She steps into the small space.

I follow.

She's right there. Her crotch pressed against the counter, her tank top hiking up her lower back.

She reaches for the top shelf. Picks the single-origin Kenyan beans. Sets the bag on the tile counter. Sinks into her heels.

Fuck, this is a bad idea.

She's soft.

Touchable.

My hands are begging for her long legs.

I slide them into my pockets. Clear my throat.

I'm not touching her.

My cock is going to have to get over that.

I'm going to have to get used to mental images of pinning her to the counter.

I place the scale in front of her. "This is an exact science."

"Isn't that boring?"

"It's meditative." I grind the beans then scoop exactly sixty grams into the pour over.

"You don't seem like the type." Her eyes flit to the counter. She clears her throat. Presses her fingers into the tile.

"I'm working on it."

"Yeah, you're kinda… off."

"That obvious?"

She nods. "Where were you today?"

"I went to the old shop. To see my brother."

"Oh." She swallows hard. "I'm guessing it didn't go well."

"It went as well as it could."

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