Page 19 of Bad Men

I stiffened. “What consequences?”

He started to shake his head. “That isn’t—”

“It is!” I protested. “It is important. I don’t want you risking things for me. I would never forgive myself if anything happened to you or Nero.”

“Shh,” he murmured softly. “It’s already been done.”

“Davien—”

“Shh,” he said again before claiming my mouth once more.

I knew I should argue, but I could barely think when he was cradling me against his chest, when his palms were burning holes through the thin material of my waitress uniform. I could have stood there hours in his arms had the doorbell hadn’t reminded me I was at work and needed to focus.

“Will you stay?” I panted, pulling away.

He skimmed his thumb over my bottom lip. “I’ll drive you home.”

Suddenly, the next three hours didn’t feel like such a dread to face. Knowing he would be there had put a skip in my step as I moved to set up orders. There was a genuine happiness blossoming in my chest that presented itself as a grin I couldn’t shake. I woke Earl up when our late afternoon rush kicked in. I grabbed steaming plates and wrote up checks. I made small conversation about the weather and who I thought would win the Super Bowl — I had no idea. I didn’t even know which game owned the Super Bowl. But I smiled and returned the question without answering because no one really cared what my answer was. When they left, they would forget my existence entirely. But the whole time, I could feel Davien’s eyes on me, following me from table to table. A couple of times, I glanced over to find his attention fixed on my legs where the black skirt didn’t cover. I wondered if he was thinking of the night he’d had me in his lap, his hands gripping under my knees, holding them apart for Nero. The memory soaked through my panties. It put a tremor in my hands I hoped no one noticed when I set their dishes down in front of them.

“Did you want anything?” I asked, joining him at the counter. “A coffee?”

He sat on a stool, the one directly across from the register. His phone rested by his folded hands when I approached, the screen blank, but I knew he’d spent the majority of the time texting someone, most likely Nero.

“I could use a coffee,” he said.

I wanted to ask if Nero was okay, if he would be joining us, what he was busy with, but I didn’t want Davien to think I was more interested in his friend because I wasn’t. I didn’t prefer one over the other. Nero didn’t make me hornier than Davien, or vice versa. They both had equal power over my body. Granted, each had something I really liked, like Nero’s finger trick and the way Davien played with my nipples. But I could never choose.

So, I didn’t mention it when setting a freshly brewed mug of coffee in front of Davien. I slipped the check next to it containing my cell number. He glanced at it before lifting his gaze to my face.

“Now you don’t have to stake out my house,” I teased. “Which you apparently suck at.”

Both his eyebrows shot up, making me laugh. “I’m sorry?”

I folded my arms and propped a hip against the corner of the counter. “Well, I’ve gone home these last two days. I left the house for work this morning, and yesterday. I went to the grocery store after work yesterday. I never saw your car, nor did you — apparently — see me.”

His tongue rolled over his teeth, a flimsy attempt to smother the grin I could clearly see twisting around his lips. His weight shifted in his stool, twisting him around until he was facing me directly. One arm settled on the counter at his side and he narrowed his eyes.

“We’re like ninjas,” he stated with a sternness he probably thought I would take seriously. “You’re not supposed to see us.”

I snorted. “Uh huh, and were you not supposed to see me either?”

“We saw you,” he declared, a clear lie.

“Right.” I laughed. “What happened to no lying?”

“Hey!” His finger hooked into the sash of my apron and he yanked me around to stand between his knees. The heavy weight of his hands settled on my hips, keeping me planted. “Watch it, missy.”

I arched a brow, hands going to his shoulders. “Missy? Are you my grandpa now?”

He made a sound between a scoff and a snort. “I’m into a lot of things, that isn’t one of them.”

Something in my chest gave a wild hop, making my breath hitch. “Like what?”

The heat of his palms slipped around the small of my back, encasing me, pulling me closer.

Our noses bumped.

Our foreheads brushed.

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