9
Riley
What’s Wrong With You?
Andi Conner is a pain in my ass. A legit – doesn’t want to stay put, won’t fucking sleep during the dark hours, won’t admit she kinda likes me, would rather play hard to get – pain in my ass. And because she’d rather play games in the middle of the night instead of sleep, it’s now going on ten in the morning and she’s still star fishing my bed.
Its not that it’s an unwelcome sight; what, with the fact she’s ass naked and tempting enough to take a bite out of. But I’m not into non-consensual, and I already handcuffed her against her will last night. So now I sit at my kitchen counter with my second and last cup of coffee for the day, an egg-white omelet, and Ninja purring by my feet.
Ninja is an eighteen-month-oldToyger– something breeders created out of mixing Bengal cats with regular domestic cats, to create a ‘toy’ cat that looks an awful lot like a fucking tiger… but smaller. Ninja is as Ninja’s name suggests; she’s wily, she’s wild, and she’ll slit your throat for a slice of tuna. I’m not entirely sure who adopted who; I’d like to say I adopted her, but in reality, she turned up at my house one day, demanded to be fed, slept on my head a time too many, and never left again.
Soon after moving into my home, she started to feel poorly, made me feel guilty like it was my responsibility to fix, landed me with a fifteen-hundred-dollar vet bill, and now she’s mine.
Whether I like it or not.
She scratches up the leather on the back of my couch, taught me how to live with mostly blinds rather than curtains, and showed me what it feels like to have claws in your back when a girl is pissed and wants your attention.
Meowing by my feet, she looks up at me through golden eyes and tilts her head to the side.
“Ninja, no.” Faster now, I work on my omelet before she takes it. She doesn’t even like eggs, but she insists on trying every time just so they become inedible for me. “Go away.” I shove her with my left foot when she tries to climb my leg. Her nails pierce my jeans and embed themselves in my skin. “Ninja! Go away.” Hurriedly cutting my food and watching the hall for my visitor to wake, I shovel bits of bland egg into my mouth and kick my forty-pound cat away.
Shuffling feet in the hall set my blood on fire. My insides go crazy, but on the outside, I employ a decade of hard training and pull myself together. Today’s a new day, and no doubt we’ll be back to her games –hard-to-getAndi,rather than the funny girl that snuggled under a blanket and shared wine last night.
She makes herself at home; the sound of shuffling on hardwood floors turns to a glide that my sensitive ears decide are the result of stolen socks. The bathroom door opens and closes with a loud snick, and a minute later, the toilet flushes and water runs in the sink.
Standing from my stool and pushing my unfinished breakfast back, I bring my coffee to my lips and lean against the counter in unsnapped jeans. Uninterested in our visitor, Ninja walks away and leaves my legs alone, and when Andi finally steps into the kitchen with slouched posture, crazy hair, and droopy eyes, I readjust my attitude.
She’s not pretending to be Miss Unattainable this morning.
She’s simply trying to survive.
Without meeting my eyes, she steps into my personal space, lays her cheek against my bare chest and her arms around my hips, and when I cocoon her in a hug, she lets out a tired sigh and closes her eyes.
Alrighty.
I drop a gentle kiss on the top of her head –because why the fuck not?– and set my coffee on the counter so I can squeeze her closer. “Morning. You okay?”
“Shhh.” She hums under her breath and makes me wonder if she has this weird morning routine. No noise, no talking, nothing but her own thoughts for a little while.
“Are you hungover?”
“Shhh.”
Smiling – and not at all hungover – I hold her close and arch my neck to get close by her mouth, just so I can hear whatever music she’s humming. Her soft hair tickles my cheek, but her strong arms squeeze me tight until her hipbone digs into my thigh. Strangely, my dick remains in check and doesn’t stick its nose somewhere it’s not invited… so to speak.
“Andi? Do you want some coffee?”
“Shhhhhhhh!” She leans around me and snags my half empty mug. Tipping it back and chugging the contents in one go, her face puckers and her eyes wrinkle, but she drains the mug and swallows with a growl. “That’s bitter as hell, Cruz. What the hell is the matter with you?”
“It’s just coffee.” I accept the empty mug and step around the counter when she flops onto a stool. She wears my socks up to her calves, and my tank that stops two inches above her knees. No bra. No panties. Just wild hair and a wild air. “More? I can make you your own.”
“Yes please. Add sugar, though. Lots of sugar.”
“Okay.” Chuckling, I toss a coffee pod in the machine and place my mug under the spout. Hitting the largest button, I move to my fridge to get the milk. Ninja moves around my feet and works to trip me, but she’s already been fed, and I’m hanging out with a brand-new Andi. A grumpy, messy, still-waking-up Andi. “How do you feel?” I drop a bottle of water by her hand and circle back to the coffee machine. “Hungover? Do you need electrolytes or something?”
“Not hungover. Two glasses of wine don’t hurt me, Cruz.”
“So what’s…” I look her up and down with a critical eye. “What’s the matter with you?”