Hank got in front of me and then smack in my space, backing me up until my bottom hit the counter. He got so close I could feel the heat from his body.
His hands came to either side of my neck and he looked into my eyes. “How you doin’?” he asked.
I nodded. “Better. Sorry about that.”
“If you apologize again –”
“Sorry. Sorry… um, sorry!” Oh God, I couldn’t quit saying sorry.
Hank smiled at me. “Shut up,” he said.
“Okay,” I replied.
“Put your arms around me.”
I was so weirded out by that morning’s experience, I immediately did as I was told.
He got even closer. “How’m I doin’?”
I blinked up at him. “Pardon?”
His hands slid down my shoulders and linked around my back. Then he rubbed his nose against mine.
I hated it when he did that, mainly because I loved it when he did that.
“Convincin’ you to stay,” he went on quietly.
Shit.
“I’m leaving today, Hank.”
His eyes got lazy.
I hated it when they did that, mainly because I loved it when they did that.
I gave my foot a little stomp, both to show him I was serious and to show myself.
“You think I’m staying!” I snapped.
“I know you’re stayin’,” he replied.
I rol ed my eyes to the ceiling then brought them back to him. “I’m going to have coffee, make you French toast for breakfast and you’re going to take me back to Tex’s. Then, I’m going to get my car, find Annette and go.”
“French toast sounds good.”
He obviously felt like ignoring the rest of what I said.
Whatever.
“Do you have bread, eggs, maple syrup?” I asked.
His head dipped and went to my neck. With his lips there, he said, “Probably.”
“Powdered sugar, cream cheese?” I went on.
“Probably not,” he said, mouth stil at my neck.
Oh wel , I’d make do.
“Move back, I’m going to get started.”
His head came up and he was grinning at me.
I rol ed my eyes at him and heard him laugh softly.
He let me go and stepped away.
I walked to the coffee and pul ed open the cabinet above it, figuring that’s where the mugs would be because that’s where I’d keep the mugs. The mugs were there and I took out two.
“How do you take your coffee?” I asked.
He came up behind me, pressed my hips against the counter and his arms went around me, his mouth going back to my neck.
“Black,” he answered, just before both his hands went under the shirt; one went north, one went south.
“Hank!” My body jerked but there was no getting away from him. “Let me go.”
“Cal me Whisky and I’l let you go,” he said against my neck.
Good God.
I ignored his request and shouted, “Let me go!” One hand went into my panties, the other hand cupped my breast.
Oh shit.
Ten minutes later I was pressing my back against his body and holding onto the counter for dear life. My head was tilted back resting on his shoulder, my forehead was pressed into his neck. He’d tilted his head forward and he was listening to me gasp.
The fingers on both of his hands did a delicious swirl.
“Cal me Whisky,” he murmured.
I didn’t delay and I did what he asked.
Then he took care of me, orgasm number two of the day and I hadn’t even been awake as many hours.
He held me, my back to his front, his arms wrapped around my midriff, while I recovered.
Once my breathing evened he asked, “Scared of my house anymore?”
My bel y melted and I let out a quick breath from my nostrils. Hank was trying to erase the bad memories by giving me good ones.
God, he was such a nice guy.
Though, he was a nice guy in a seriously sexy way.
I shook my head.
He kissed my neck. “You feel like stayin’ yet?” Jeez.
He might be a nice guy but he sure was a stubborn one.
I shook my head.
“Stubborn,” he murmured, his mouth behind my ear.
“I was just thinking that about you,” I told him.
I felt his smile rather than saw it.
“This is gonna be fun,” he said.
I doubted that.
*
We had French toast. We had a shower. He took me to Tex’s and I heard him on the phone in the kitchen while I did the whole getting dressed production. I cal ed Annette and she answered with a sleepy, “Yo bitch.” She was in Denver and she told me she and Jason were catching up on sleep and we arranged to meet later at Fortnum’s.
I cal ed Uncle Tex at the store (he was stil not using his cel phone) and got the address for where my car was.
Then, Hank took me to get my car.
I thought this was fishy, Hank being so nice, taking me to my car, considering I intended to drive off into the sunset with it. But I wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth, especial y Hank’s mouth; his mouth was mesmerizing.
The guy in dirty blue coveral s was sitting behind the counter, flipping through the paper.
“I’m here to pick up my car,” I told him when he looked up.
He looked at Hank, then back at me.
“Sorry, can’t give it to you.”
I stared at him. “Why?”
“Some cops came in awhile ago, towed it to the impound. Said it was evidence in a crime.” My body went stil . “What crime?”