Whoa, did not expect that. The voice that comes out is thickly British—and not like a polished James Bond voice, more like a pirate, or a character out of a Guy Ritchie movie. And it is totally and completely and uncomfortably hot.
“No,” I blurt out before frowning. “Well, I mean, you can stay,” I say quickly. I bite my lip, my eyes sliding over him again before I catch myself and blush.
“I’m just cleaning up. Want something? The cook is gone, but I’m can do, like…” I shrug. “Toast or something?”
He frowns. “Nah, you’re closed,” he growls out in that panty-melting Jack Sparrow meets Christian Bale accent. “I’ll just wait out—”
Thunder booms, like the heavens are crashing down, and I can’t even stop myself from basically screaming and jolting like a total spaz. My cheeks burn, and I look away.
“Um, if you wanted to stay…” I laugh nervously. “I could use the company?”
The man grins a crooked, roguish smile that does something very electrifying to my core, making me shiver heatedly.
“I could use the dry.”
I smile and drop the menus on the counter and gesture towards a chair. The man nods and starts to move forward, but his eyes are locked on mine, never flinching, never blinking, and never looking away. Heat burns through me, and my legs squeeze together before I can even help it. My breath catches, and my heart races, and my eyes are just captivated by his as he stalks towards me, like he’s going to devour me.
And God help me, I want him to.
Chapter Three
Delphine
Oh fuck.
I stare, shamelessly, as the man stands to pull his hoodie off. His t-shirt peels up with it, and my jaw drops at the body my eyes land on. He’s carved out of freaking stone—pure freaking muscle, and absolutely covered with old-school style tattoos. His abs ripple and clench, and his chiseled chest flexes as he peels the hoodie off and tosses it aside. He pushes the shirt down, and I watch with wide eyes as he pulls his long hair which has just tumbled free back and holds it with a tie in a knot on top of his head.
He looks up, and he grins wolfishly when he catches me staring. Quickly, I whirl to pour him some coffee.
“Cream or sugar?”
“Got any whiskey?”
I grin, biting my lip.
“Yeah, I wish.”
“Just black would be great.”
I nod, oddly at a loss for words considering my usual chatterbox self as I pass him the mug.
“You sure you don’t want anything? Toast?”
He shakes his head while he sips at the coffee. “Nah, don’t worry about it.”
“It’s really not a problem.”
His eyes look up and hold mine again, taking my breath away as he grins. “Yeah, alright. I could do toast. Thanks.”
“Comin’ right up!”
I skip into the kitchen and immediately cringe at my dumb line. “Comin’ right up?” Really? I groan and grab a loaf of bread out of the reach in cooler and push two pieces into the toaster sitting on the counter. I glance over at the iPod plugged into the restaurant’s sound system.
“You want some music on?”
“Sure,” he growls from out at the counter.
“Any preference?”
He says something I don’t catch, and I push my head out of the kitchen. “What?”
“Dealer’s choice,” he grunts with a grin.
I smile and duck back in. The toast pops up from the toaster as I scroll through the music, finally stopping at Bill Withers. When my mom passed when I was young, it was my Grandmother who mostly raised me, seeing as my local-thug coke dealing dad wasn’t exactly father of the year material. And Grams loved classics like Bill Withers.
“Ain’t No Sunshine” starts to play, and I smile as I pull the toast out of the toaster. I have no idea what’s compelled me to make some food for this stranger instead of just letting him walk out like he was clearly about to do. I want to say it’s because of some altruist need to help and not that he’s a freaking smoke-show, but I’m not sure how true that is.
“This okay?” I say, stepping out of the kitchen again.
“Fuckin’ perfect,” he says with that roguish grin.
“Well, can’t go wrong with the classics,” I call out as I duck back in. I grab his plate of toast, when suddenly, thunder freaking explodes through the sky. Lightning crashes and the thunder comes again, and then suddenly the lights flicker and go out. And I scream.
Instantly, the kitchen doors slam open, and he comes charging through, taking my breath away. God, he’s like a wild beast the way he comes barreling in like a bear or something.
“Are you okay?” he growls.
“Just scared of the dark, apparently,” I laugh nervously. “Hang on, there’s a flashlight up at the register out front.”
It’s almost pitch-black though, so when I step forward, he seems to do the same, and suddenly I’m stepping right into him. I gasp, a jolt of electricity blazing through my body as I bump into his rock-hard chest. His arms go around me for a second, and I gasp again, shivering.
“Sorry,” he grunts and steps away from me. I miss the heat of him almost instantly.
“Um, it’s this way.”
He follows me behind the counter. But when I reach under the register, of course the flashlight isn’t there.
Shit.
“Fuck,” I grumble. “There might be one in the back office, hang—”
I whirl, and then suddenly gasp as I slam right into him again. Only this time, it’s not just bumping, it’s like I’ve fallen into his arms—his big, muscled, inked, perfect arms. My breath catches, and my hands go flat against his chest. He growls as his hands grip my waist tightly, and my pulse thunders in my ears as I look up into his face.
The moon bathes us both in white, and my pulse skips. Heat teases over my skin, radiating out from where his hands are on me. I don’t move mine from his chest, and my teeth rake over my lips as I look up into his gorgeous, piercing blue eyes.
…I’ve never once felt this before. It’s not even just desire, or just physical attraction. It’s like I look up into this stranger’s eyes, and I’m in a free fall. Maybe it’s that he’s so rough and tumble looking—that he seems dangerous but holding back. Maybe it’s the accent, or the eyes, or the way he’s got me freaking melting against him.
Whatever it is, I can’t look away, and I can’t, and don’t want to move away from him.
“I—”
His hands tighten on me, making me whimper, and he moves fast. His head lowers to mine, and when his lips crush to mine, I know I’m lost. I moan shamelessly into his mouth, kissing him right back and gasping as his lips open. I part mine for his tongue, and then I moan as I sink against him. Our tongues dance together, and our bodies begin to rock hard against one another.
My hands grip his shirt tightly, his grip my waist, and then it’s like the dam just breaks.
We slam together even harder, and I gasp as his hands slide over me. He yanks at my apron, and it drops to the ground as I slide my hands to his waist. I push his damp t-shirt up, my fingers grazing his chiseled abs and my pulse skipping as I do so. He pulls away just enough to whip it off over his head before he grabs my face and crushes his lips to mine again.