Chapter 9
VICTOR
It was a Saturday, a busy morning, and Lizzy’s day off.
On top of that, Brayden had texted him that he was going out to hang with friends.
It was a chance for Victor to be alone with Lizzy.
Properly alone. But the diner was slammed, and he needed to cover the flat top until their weekend fry cook Ruby’s shift started before he would be able to get away.
As he worked, thoughts of Lizzy were consuming his mind.
Flipping pancakes made him think of the way she’d moaned the first time she’d eaten his food.
Burgers made him think of her feeding patty melts to Igor, ketchup was her bright red lips.
Bacon was how his brain felt every moment he was away from her—fried.
They’d been living together, but they were hardly home at the same time.
The diner kept him busy, and even when their shifts overlapped, there was someone there to interrupt their conversations.
They’d been dancing around one another, exchanging flirtatious smiles and jokes.
Now that she’d been here over a full week, he wanted to see if her thoughts on staying had shifted.
She’d gotten the diner running smoothly.
He’d received no complaints over the posted schedule, which was rare given everyone’s conflicts.
Could she be convinced to stay longer, forever even? Was she open to a relationship?
It’d been Frank’s dream for her to work here.
He’d mentioned it in passing more than once.
About how good it would be when Lizzy came back.
At the time, Victor had played it off as wishful thinking.
But Lizzy was damn good at her job. She’d pitched him the idea of Vivianne handling their social media marketing, and while he feared the chaos she’d unleash given full control of their accounts, said online presence wouldn’t exist without Vivianne.
She’d nagged Frank for weeks to set up an account, and when he had, it had been without a profile picture.
Without a single picture, all, just their name and location.
She’d taken the phone from him and snapped pictures of food and created a logo for the diner as their profile picture.
That was why she had the login info in the first place.
Victor kept glancing at the clock, which was moving at a snail’s pace. Ruby had been due to start in ten minutes for what felt like hours.
“Got somewhere to go?” Vivianne asked as she brought in a load of dirty plates and cups and dumped them into the newly fixed sink.
“No, why do you ask?” he replied, glancing past her to the back door of the diner.
“Because you’ve been watching the clock like a hawk.”
Victor shrugged. “I like keeping time.”
“Sure.” She leaned one hip against the sink. “About the socials. I wanted to take a few pictures of our bestsellers. I’ve got some ideas for videos we could post as well. When Ruby gets here, can you help me with that?”
“Ruby will help cook the food. She’s good at plating.”
“Yeah, but she doesn’t have the big-sexy-man-eye-candy angle I’m going for,” Vivianne said.
Victor turned towards her, brows raised.
“You’ve got that forearm and slutty man bun thing going on. It’ll bring in the customers. Unless you want me to have Lizzy shimmying around in a tight dress and apron. Either could work.”
He almost choked on his refusal. “We’ll both pass. Why don’t you just focus on food pictures?”
“Boo. You’re no fun.” She turned as Ruby came in to start her shift. She’d barely put on her apron before Victor was shoving a spatula in her hand and running for the door.
“Call me if there’s a fire!” he shouted.
“Have fun, you crazy kids. Use protection,” Vivianne hooted.
Victor ignored her and let the back door of the diner slam behind him.
He crossed the driveway in a few strides and then paused at the front door.
His heart was hammering in his chest, and he felt a bit lightheaded.
He was acting like a lovesick teenager. But unlike his teenage self, he wasn’t going to waste his shot.
There was no guarantee she even felt the same way.
He might have gotten it all twisted in his head.
Maybe he’d even crossed the line and made her uncomfortable.
He took a deep breath and walked inside.
As usual, Igor screeched for food. The shower was running, which would give him time to feed Igor and prepare for his talk with Lizzy.
He would confess his feelings and make his intentions clear.
No more dancing around one another. After preparing Igor only a quick meal, much to his chagrin, Victor washed up in the bathroom he shared with Brayden and took off his grease-splattered pants, but all he had that was cleanish was a white shirt and gray sweatpants.
He decided casual was better than dirty and put them on.
By the time he had finished changing, the shower had turned off and her bedroom door opened.
He waited a beat before stepping out. He caught her in the hall wearing nothing but a long T-shirt and a pair of sinful shorts that barely concealed her round cheeks.
When she stood on her tiptoes to grab something from the top shelf of the hall closet, the shirt lifted and exposed her creamy thighs.
His erection came to immediate attention, tenting the front of his sweats.
Victor reached from behind her, grabbing the box she couldn’t quite get, and their hands brushed. He angled his body away as not to press his erection against her. Even though that was exactly what he wanted to do. And so much more.
She startled slightly and almost tilted backwards, but his hand on her waist steadied her as she stepped down onto her flat feet. He gave her room, and her eyes grazed over him, lips parted as her gaze slid to his dick.
She leaned against the closet shelves, the box pressed against her chest.
“Well, hello,” she said.
He wanted to kiss her, but he refrained. Talk first, kiss later. He was a gentleman. In theory.
“Can we talk?” he asked.
Her eyes drifted down to his erection once again. “What about?” she asked breathlessly.
And he felt his cock twitch, and he resisted the urge to grab hold of it. “Is it not obvious?”
“I want to be sure. You’re impossible to read, which is a new experience for me. And given our situation”—she gestured around them—“I don’t want to cross any lines.”
“You can cross all of them.” He leaned forward, grabbed the box from her hands and tossed it aside before pinning her against the shelves, and his hard dick pressed against her soft belly.
Her eyes flicked down again, and her pink tongue darted out to wet her lips. Which evoked filthy images of her mouth wrapped around his cock.
“Do you really mean that?” Her breath hitched, and she pressed a hand flat against his chest but didn’t push him away. She had to feel the way his heart was beating a thousand miles a minute.
“If you want, I can show you exactly how I feel, Lizzy.”
She tilted her head up, and he slid his hand to the back of her neck, digging his fingers into her thick, silky raven-black hair.
“Would you?” She gasped.
That was all the permission he needed, and he kissed her.
Or tried to. As she leaned forward, he leaned down, and his lips collided with her cupid’s bow.
She laughed as he pulled back and found her mouth, his tongue sweeping the seam of her mouth, requesting entrance, but she kept her lips closed and he groaned against them. “Lizzy, please.”
She opened up to him, her mouth warm and soft, and tasting of the faintest trace of mint from her toothpaste.
Her hands explored his arms, running over corded muscles and along the scars, raising the hairs on the back of his neck.
Her soft hands exploring his body felt incredible.
He’d been picturing this for days, and his imagination could have never done reality justice.
Then he grasped her beneath those sinfully short shorts, hoisted her up to wrap her legs around him, and walked her into the primary bedroom behind them.
He sat her on the edge of the bed, she spread her legs open for him, the thin barriers of her panties and shorts dampening between them.
He rubbed his erection against her heat as she wrapped her thick thighs around him, increasing the friction to maddening heights.
If they didn’t slow down, he was going to come in his pants.
He wanted to take his time with her, savor every inch of her.
Ravish her in ways he knew had never been done to her before.
Then she whispered against his mouth, “I’ve never had a one-night stand, but I want you to fuck me so bad.”
Hearing that from her was like a bucket of cold water had been dropped on him. And Victor pulled away.
She leaned on the mattress, panting for breath, eyes heavy-lidded as she watched him. He wasn’t a one-night stand kind of guy. Never had been. He wanted love, commitment, forever. He was never going to be satisfied with one kiss, one fuck. He wanted all of her.
He placed his hands on her shoulder.
“Something wrong?” she asked.
“You’re perfect. I want to fuck you more than you know. But I have to tell you, I don’t want a fling. I am building a life here, and anyone I get involved with, I want it to be long-term.”
She frowned. “Oh.”
He stepped back. He didn’t need to be an empath to see the way she was shutting down, looking for a way to appease him. He knew from the bits and pieces she’d shared that she was freshly single. Her ex didn’t seem like a great guy given the way she reacted to basic human courtesy.
“And I don’t want you to agree to something you’re not entirely comfortable with either,” he quickly added. This was falling apart. He’d moved too fast because he’d been thinking with the wrong head.
She blinked up at him. And he could see the decision churning around in her head.
After a long pause, she sighed and said, “I don’t think it’s fair to you to promise more than I can give.
I am leaving at the end of the month. And I’m willing to have fun while I’m here, I literally just ended a three-year relationship and lost my job and my dad.
I’m not ready for a commitment.” She flinched as if she were waiting for him to lash out at her for expressing her feelings.
And a dark thought bubbled up. Was that how her ex had acted when she set a boundary?
Victor wanted to find the guy and rip his head from his shoulders.
But he pushed the bloodlust down and instead took another step back from her. “That’s totally fair. I think it’s best for both of us if we just remain friends, then.”
She nodded. “Yeah. I think so too.” She pressed her thighs together, and he had to turn away, or he was going to let his resolve crumble. It wasn’t meant to be. That was fine, right?