I realize she feels it too when her eyes connect with mine, and I find raw vulnerability.
Blinking, she retreats away from me. “I’ll be right back.” Then she bolts through a door behind the counter and returns just as quickly with a bucket and some rags.
She sets the bucket down and reaches for me with a dry cloth, and it dawns on me that if I let her, she’ll wipe away something important, something I don’t want to forget.
I grab her wrist again. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Are you sure? That shirt looks expensive. I can pay to have it dry cleaned.”
“It’s okay,” I assure her.
She looks skeptical but pulls away from my hold and drops to her knees to clean the puddle on the floor. I crouch down with her, grab a rag, and help her clean the mess.
My Dream Girl stops cleaning and scrunches her brows. “What’re you doing?”
“Helping.”
“But I’m the one who works here.” She says it slowly with a perplexed look on her face.
“Does that mean I can’t clean up my mess?” I give her an impish grin.
She frowns. “No, but again, I’m the one who works here.”
“You said that already,” I point out.
Her lips pinch, trying to hide her smile. “You’re a strange man.”
My head tilts slightly. “I’ve been called worse.”
She shakes her head, and we finish cleaning the spilled coffee together. When it’s done, she takes the rag from me, placing hersand mine in the bucket, and stands. I rise with her, and she shifts her weight back and forth on her feet.
“I’ll go make you another.” She says it enthusiastically, like she’s happy she came up with something to say.
I don’t want this to end. I need her to stay with me as long as possible.
“Have a cup with me,” I blurt out.
She rolls her eyes at me, exasperated, but the corner of her lip turns up. “I don’t think you’re getting it. I work here.” She emphasizes each word of the last sentence as if I don’t know what she’s saying.
Rearing my head back, I play along. “You do? I didn’t notice.” My words are drenched in sarcasm.
Her mouth curves into a full smile, and I’m hit again by how beautiful she is.
“Don’t make me drink alone,” I push further.
She shakes her head at me, but her smile is still firmly in place. “Okay. My shift is over in a few minutes.” She walks away, back behind the counter, and I can’t help but stare at her backside.
Fuck me.
My dick hardens in my slacks, and I have to button my coat back up to hide it.
I claim a spot for us on a bright green couch, and my Dream Girl joins me a few minutes later. Her white tee and jeans are like a second skin, and without her apron, I’m able to get an eyeful of every inch of her body.
She sets her purse and thick coat on the coffee table in front of us and hands me my drink. Her lips push together, and she lifts her own drink and sips. I stare at her throat as she swallows, entranced by her smooth skin.
Shifting my weight on the couch, I turn so I’m facing her. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. I spilled your coffee.” She bends a knee and maneuvers, so her leg is on the cushion between us, and her body is pointed toward me.
