Chapter 10
Torren
I’m done. Done. Done. Done.
Coming to my house in the middle of the night? Ruining my morning routine by getting a fucking job at my favorite place?
Being perfect and making it agonizing to stay away from him?
WHAT’S NEXT?!
My bike races down the main stretch of the Patch, speeding to Maggie’s like a bat out of hell.
I had more dreams about him all night long, and then couldn’t stop thinking about him during my tub-jerk.
His image plagues my mind as I barrel through a yellow light and flick off the douchebag in a Honda Civic who honks at me.
His taunting from the night before nearly wrecked me. I wanted more.
He thinks I hate him, but it’s not that. I’m afraid for him.
But I know what to do.
He’s like a petulant child throwing a tantrum because he likes the attention, and I’ve been dumb enough to give it to him.
Not this time, little brat.
The thought of avoiding Maggie’s crossed my mind, but the more I thought about it, the more furious I became.
This is my routine.
I get a terrible cup of coffee and a delicious donut at the same goddamned place every single day.
I need my routines—they help me center myself and create harmony in my day, and I’ve just about had enough of the Mayor’s son turning the life I’ve worked hard to create upside down.
We roll up to Maggie’s, and I’m off the bike, marching to the entrance like a man on a mission. Gabriel grabs my arm and turns me toward him. He whips his arms to the sides, a questioning look on his face. I know I’ve been a bear all morning.
Gabriel points at Maggie’s and dismissively waves his hand. He wants us to forget about this place and go somewhere else.
Well, fuck that noise. “No. I love this place. It feels good coming here, and I won’t let him mess with that. This is our place,” I explain while motioning between the two of us.
Gabriel, once again, makes the sex signal with his hands. “Fuck him and forget him,” he says in his deep, raspy voice.
“It’s not that simple. It’s—” I don’t know how to explain to Gabe that this is more than just a fuck.
I don’t even know what it is, but I’m obsessed and terrified at the same time.
I want him so bad, but when I look at him, the fantasies that flood my brain could put a snuff film to shame. I don’t want to be that. Not again.
I don’t want to hurt him.
I’m sick. I can’t even imagine what would happen if we just fucked like Gabriel is suggesting. What if I did something I could never undo?
I have to control it.
I can do this.
I turn to Gabriel and speak with newfound resolve. “We’re walking in there, getting the coffee and motherfucking donuts we always get, and having a nice fucking day. Period.”
Gabriel rolls his eyes, and I wave him off with a groan. My entrance is met with the jingle of the door and the wide-eyed stare of the boy who has wrecked my brain.
Felix
Torren is fuming. Enraged. His eyes glow with the flames of Hell as he creeps across the checkerboard floor and takes a seat at the bar.
His friend looks absolutely petrified, glancing between Torren and me like we’re a ticking time bomb.
My heart thunders in my chest. It’s exhilarating to be around Torren when he’s like this.
My skin tingles as his gaze rakes across my body: first into my eyes, then my mouth, and finally my throat. Each time his eyes land on a new area, my body heats up at that place. I feel exposed and vulnerable, and I love it.
I was so nervous he wouldn’t come back to Maggie’s after my little visit last night, but he did.
You can’t stay away. Just accept it. Accept that we belong together.
I brace my hands against the edge of the bar and lean closer. Torren’s tongue trails along his lower lip before biting it.
He finally takes a seat, his eyes narrow, and leans closer. It’s like we’re gearing up for a quick draw duel, but the gun is a fucking donut.
“You know what I want.” His voice is low and harsh, and he speaks deliberately slowly.
It’s a power move, and it makes me want to fuck with him. “Do I?”
His eyes darken, narrowing as his gaze zeroes in on me. “Yes. You do.”
I rest my head on my hand and make a show of thinking. “Hmm… I don’t recall. You know, I just started working here. Refresh my memory. What is it you want again?”
His fists clench, and the bulge of his forearm muscles makes the sleeve of his leather coat skreak. “Felix. You don’t want to do this. You think this is fun, but it’s not.”
I lean closer again, only a few inches separating us.“Oh, but it is. I love making Daddy mad.”
“Don’t call me that,” he says through clenched teeth.
I do the unthinkable and beep his nose like I’m Lucy and he’s Charlie Brown. “Make me.”
His eyes widen, and that vicious smirk I adore so much appears.
He looks like he wants to laugh, but then the darkness overtakes him.
His face shifts from manic surprise to demonic hate in a flash.
His hand juts forward, clearly about to grab me, but he stops himself.
A deep breath precedes his demand for a coffee and an old-fashioned donut.
He swivels his chair in the direction of the entrance, effectively shutting me out.
Gabe views all of this like he’s watching the grand finale of an epic murder mystery.
I’m tempted to offer him some popcorn for the show, but instead I ask, “Double chocolate?”
He replies with a thumbs-up.
Gabe doesn’t talk much, does he?
I pour each of them a cup of coffee and set them on the bar. Torren turns to grab it, refusing to make eye contact with me, then swivels in the direction of the entrance again.
Alright. I need to crack him open. Torren will never let me in if I don’t kick down the door.
I need something else.
My eyes land on his beloved donut. I cock my head, examining the sprinkling of sugar coating it.
Hmm.
The donut lands on a plate, and I drench it with salt. It blends in perfectly with the sugar.
I deliver the donuts and pause for a moment after setting the plates down and sing, “Here’s your treat.”
Torren turns around, eyes growing wide when he sees I actually got his order right.
“Thanks…”
I lean against the counter and watch him raise the donut to his mouth. He looks at me, and I smile sweetly. The poor man visibly relaxes, his shoulders melting as he takes a full bite of the donut.
He chews.
Then stops.
His eyes meet mine.
Got ya, didn’t I?
He spits it out on his plate, and I bolt to the bathroom.
“That does it,” he grits out.