81 just looks at me like I have grown a third head.
“I’m sorry for his rudeness and keep the change. Thank you,” I say looking past 81’s huge shoulders and down to the boy, smiling at the poor kid as he holds his hands up walking down the steps.
“All good, lady.” His voice is shaking as he sends me a weak smile. 81 screams danger and I will kill you and no-one will ever find you as he clenches his fists watching the kid back down the stairs. This is so over the top.
“Yeah, what she said,” he bites out before he pushes his way inside the door and into my apartment.
I blink. Slowly. His voice is hard. It’s also raspy and rough from smoking too many cigarettes in any given twenty-four-hour period.
I don't like that he smokes because it highlights the fact that he can die from it.
Like a lot. The old ashtray smell is just plain gross. But he does wear the smell well, I will at least give him that. He carries it like his own personal scent.
“You shouldn’t smoke,” I said, surprising myself. Because I should have asked him what he was doing walking inside my home, my safe place. He has an annoying habit of just turning up and unarming me and then leaving then I’m left thinking what the hell happened inside tornado 81.
81’s expression goes from one of hard to shock as he turns from the kitchen stovetop and looks at me. “How the hell do you know I smoke?” he demands.
“I’m me, and I notice things. I watch people. I smell things well, for a living.” I shoot back at him as he steps closer to me.
Something in his jaw ticks the corner of his granite mouth turning up. “Fuck, that’s funny. You watch people, little bird, and smell things, do you?” he asks his hands reaching for a stray strand of hair that has fallen from my braid. Running the pad of his finger so lightly over my skin to push the strand back behind my ear.My body quivers as my skin screams from his touch, I'm barely holding on.
He's undoing all the years’ worth of work and walls and I cannot handle it and the pain it brings. I know I will get punished for smart mouthing him before in front of the delivery guy. I’m always on high alert, waiting for the clues that would come just before the beast explodes and my body becomes its punching bag
“Well, yeah, I do now,” I say back, pain in my voice as his voice, his touch, his damn everything unleashes all the memories I had buried deep and throws them around inside my head like a vortex of pain laced with the rose-colored glasses of lust.
“I think you’re pretty damn cute, little bird.” He laughs as his hands caress the sides of my cheeks. It takes all my strength to not panic and run from his touch as the assaults taint the touch from him.
I suck in a deep breath. “You shouldn’t smoke. It’s bad for you.” He leans back, his hands leaving my face. Mine shot up to feel the heat left from him as my belly burned. I have to feel the good and hold onto that, so when the bad comes, I can cling to the way the heat lingers from when his touch is kind
“I do a lot of things that are bad for me, little bird,” he replies. “Smoking is just one thing on the awfully long list. It is right near the end of that list also. What’s on the top is me standing right where I am now.” I screw up my nose, cocking my head to the side.
“You, standing in my house, is worse than you sucking on a death stick that can, I may add, kill me also coz I breathe you in.” I slam my hands over my mouth as heat crept up my neck.I so should not have said that.His mouth twitches.
“Yeah, little bird. In my world, there’s something much fucking worse than sucking on poison.” His eyes were on my lips. His words struck me to the core or is this the way he looks at my lips running his tongue over his. “Like tasting something sweet, yet dangerous.” He winks at me turning back to the stove. That action struck me mute. Was it the way he talked about me being sweet? Did he even mean me? Surly not, coz I am far from dangerous. But somewhere, way back inside my brain, was screaming at me his words, the low rasp of his voice, his gaze—they all told me that he was interested in me. Me. Jade. I didn’t believe the voice in my head as she screamed well look at his actions of late. Yeah, whatever, I breathe at her. I roll my eyes.
“Don’t roll ya eyes, little bird. Also get outta ya head. If ya got a question just ask.” His raspy tone hits me in the core of all things. It’s making me clench my lady bits. He is fucking dangerous for me.
Luckily, I don’t have to scramble a response as he turns back around after clicking the stove top element on and folds his arms across his chest. “You gonna keep staring at me, or you gonna get two cups out?” he asks his voice hard but somehow amused at the same time. My eyes jerk upward from where they’d been inspecting his thighs. They were some freaking amazing looking thighs, even under jeans you could see that they were strong and toned with muscle, making you wonder if they were as hard as they looked. And then wondering what he’d look like without the shirt, if his entire body was coated in tattoos?
“Cups?” I repeat.
“Yeah, babe.” He looks at me with fire in eyes. “Unless you’re planning on drinking outta the coffee pot.” Cocking my head to the side, as he steps away from the stove. I see a shiny, new silver coffee pot sitting on the element. The bitter smell of coffee beginning to fill my apartment, as my stomach calls out at the smell and my tongue tingles at the thought of the hot liquid on it.
“Um, right. where did that come from?” Placing my hands on the breakfast bar behind me, I pull my body up, sit on the counter and cross my legs. His eyes watch each and every movement I make and set my skin on fire.
“Well, I brought it. Well, actually I asked this chick at the Starbucks down the road what would be good, and she said this.”
I raise an eyebrow at him. "Starbucks. You went to Starbucks. You went to Starbucks?” His hand went to the back of his neck, rubbing it, as if he's nervous. “Um, yeah. Isn’t that what all girls like you like to drink? Also hang out?” I laugh. “Girls like me, aye?”
“Well, yeah. Fancy girls, you know what I mean, little bird.”
“No, no 81. I do not. Coz girls like me are happy with the dinner coffee and Jameson, really.” He scoffs at me looking away breaking my hold.
“Well, that shit’s bad for you.”
I laugh at him. “Like smoking is bad for you?”
“This isn’t about me, little bird.” The little cute pot begins to whistle then.
