“You nearly…” I run a hand over my eyes, forgetting one is swollen, and hiss as the pain radiates into the back of my brain. “Sharted? Jessica!”
“What?”
“Your name is Miss Fancy for a reason!”
She rolls her eyes and turns back to the counter. “One person called me Miss Fancy. One time. Three minutes ago. That doesn’t make it my name. And whatever. The point is, I’d miss them.”
“Even though they hit you?”
“Especiallybecause they hit me. Only a real, true friend would stand over you and laugh. Because when she’s done laughing, she helps me up. A fake friend would be all‘oooohmygosh, I’m sooooo sorry,’then she’ll bitch about me.”
“Your friends never bitch about you?”
“To my face? All the damn time. Behind my back? No.”
“Never?”
“Never ever. I’ll take the gun toting psychos over the fake ass bitches any day.”
I shake my head. “Your sense of safety is so fucking warped, Jess. Stay away from the guns. Stay away from the criminals. Stay away from dangerous shit.”
“Dangerous… Criminals… like you?”
“Exactly! Jesus, finally, you catch on.” I shake my head. “It took you fucking long enough. The blonde hair messing with your brain again?”
Jess picks up the wrapped set of silverware resting by her elbow, and slowly, meticulously unwrapping it, she uncovers the knife. As she runs her thumb along the blade, she looks up at me through her lashes. “Call me dumb again, Bishop, mention my hair one more time, and I might put this between your bruised ribs.” She bites her bottom lip. “That’d be a fun role reversal, huh?”
“You’re a damn psycho! You’re unhinged. Fuck me, that’s why you keep coming back. That’s why you go to a club that’s clearly already called your number. That’s why you continue to end up in my bed – you have no sense of danger; no clue what’s bad for you.”
“Are you bad for me, Kane?”
“Logically, yes! But in reality, the Reaper has become the stupid fucking protector.”
She tilts her head to the side with a small smile. “Why did you tattoo the Grim Reaper on your back?” She casts a glance around the diner before leaning in close. “How many men have you killed?”
I’m not answering that.“Why do you continue to end up in my bed, but I never get laid?”
She shrugs and leans into my shoulder. “You keep putting me there. Not once have I climbed into your bed on my own, so your blue balls are your own fault.”
“Here you go, sugar.” Dolly stops in front of us with a smile and two heaping plates of food. She slides the smaller plate to Jess. “Pancakes to cheer the sassy girl up. Blue balls… ah, that is, blueberriesfor the smiley face eyes.” Winking, she places a much fuller plate in front of me. “And extra bacon for the growing boy who never gets laid. Let me know if you need anything else. Otherwise, y’all just keep being cute and I’ll watch from over there.”
I return her wink and watch her ten-gallon ass sway as she moves away. “I love Dolly. She’s nice.”
“You’re watching her ass!” Balling her fist like she’s going to hit me, Jess swings out, but pulls her strike when she finally remembers our new rules. “Crap, no hitting. Kane!” Hissing, she shoves my knee with hers. “Can you stop watching her ass like a freak? You arenotthat hard up for women.”
“She’s really nice.” I pick up a strip of bacon and bite off the end. “Not many people are nice to me. They see my ink, they see a thug, and they rarely ever make eye contact.” Placing the end of the bacon between my teeth, I lean forward in offer. “Have some breakfast, beautiful. You owe me some sugar, since you hit me.”
Swinging around to argue, her eyes flash to the slice of bacon protruding from between my smiling lips. “I didn’t hit you.”
“You were gonna. Then you hit my knee. You have two options.” Leaning forward, I pull the strip from my mouth and lick my lips. “Let me taste those, or…” I place my spare hand high on her thigh. “Or let me tastethat. You choose, beautiful. Either way, I wanna taste you on my tongue.”
“What if I say no?”
Drawing circle patterns with the tip of my finger, I grin when I find the bottom of my underwear loose on her leg. “Then you’d be missing out on something good.” Leaning closer, I bury my face in her hair and breathe her in. Sliding my tongue along her scar, I chuckle quietly when she shivers. “See how my tongue makes you feel?” My words are barely more than a whisper. Dolly doesn’t need to hear this. “See how my tongue on your neck makes your pussy throb?” I slide my thumb over her thigh, but I don’t touch; I’m still inches away. She’s been traumatized and victimized twice in a week, and I won’t be like them. I won’t touch without permission. But I’ll tease. I’ll make her aware of her needs. “That bass drum in your clit, thethump, thump, thump, thump… now imagine my tongue on that.”
Whimpering, she falls forward until her forehead rests on my shoulder. “Kane…”
“Wanna see if I can make you come with words only?”