“Who did your ink?” he asks suddenly. They’re not the words I was expecting.
“Loads of people. As I’m sure you can see even from over there, some could do with a little work.”
He continues to study me, his attention making my temperature soar. If it weren’t for his interest, I’d probably be cold, wearing so little.
“I could definitely improve a few.”
“You think you’ve got the skills?”
He chuckles. “Oh, Tiny. I know I have. No one’s ever disappointed when I get my hands on them.”
Heat floods my core. He may not have touched me yet, but I already know his words are true. I was desperate to feel his touch back in that room earlier, but the fucker kept his hands well clear of me.
He’s impressing me with his ability to deny himself what he so clearly wants. It’s admirable, it really is. And that only makes my need to win stronger.
“Maybe I’ll get to find out one day, when you stop being such a stick in the mud.” I keep my eyes on the TV, but it’s impossible to miss him sitting forward in disbelief.
“Excuse me, I’m not a stick in the mud.”
“Whatever you say.”
His mouth opens to argue, but he must think better of it because he falls back against the sofa with his arms folded over his chest as he sulks.
We both remain silent as the film starts. I turn the volume up until the sounds of gunshots and people’s screams fill the flat.
“I didn’t have you down for a shoot ‘em up fan,” Spike says when the first advert break starts.
“Why, do I look like a rom-com kind of girl to you?”
“You’re a girl. I thought it was in your genes or some shit.”
“Stereotypical much?” I mutter as he pushes from the sofa and disappears toward the kitchen.
“I just thought all females wanted that, the happily ever after those kinds of films always give you,” he says, continuing to dig himself into the hole he started before he left. “Drink?”
“Sure, whatever you’re having.” I watch as he grabs a glass and pours me a generous amount of his Jack. “In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m not the hearts and flowers, must-have-a-happily-ever-after kind of girl. Don’t tell me that you’re that kind of guy.” He’s already tried to tell me that he’s not. Although I don’t believe it for a second, I can’t deny that I’m not curious about his reasons for saying so—or more specifically, who turned him off the idea.
“Fuck no.”
“And why is that, exactly? I thought a guy of your age would be all about settling down and filling a woman with his seed.”
“I can get on board with the last part of that sentence, just not with one woman.”
I study him as he focuses his attention back on the TV. He chews on his cheek as if he wants to say more but isn’t allowing himself.
“Who was she?”
He gives me a double take before my words must register. “Who was who?”
“The woman who broke your heart.” I try again.
“Who says there was a woman?”
“Your body language. Your refusal to answer the question.”
“Whatever. The film’s starting again.”
I study him for a while longer as I sip my drink. He knows I’m looking at him, but at no point does he turn back to me.
“It’s a shame, if you ask me. You’re a catch.”
“Oh yeah?” he asks with a smirk. “Is that why you’re putting so much effort into catching me?”
A laugh falls from my lips. “Me? No. I just want a bit of fun, and I have it on good authority that you’re an expert in that department.”
His lips part, but he doesn’t respond. Instead, we silently watch the film, the chemistry left over from the strip club crackling between us.
When the credits start to roll, I decide I’ve tortured him enough for one day and excuse myself to bed.
“If you’re cold in the night, you know where I am,” I say with a wink before I disappear from his sight.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he calls behind me.
I have no idea what the time is when I finally pry my eyes open the next morning, but I know it’s late. The sun is already high in the sky, the strength of it warming my room nicely.
Rolling over, I find my phone on the bedside table and turn it on. I’d switched it off before my shift last night and never got around to powering it back up again after the drama that ensued with Spike.
The second it gets a signal, the messages start coming through.
“Fuuuuck,” I groan to myself as message after message from Jodie flashes up on the screen.
I meant to tell her that I’d left, but I kind of forgot.
With a wince, I open the final message from her that demands to know if I’m still alive or not. Guilt eats at me that she’d have been awake all night worrying about me while I was here in the most comfortable bed I’ve ever slept in, getting well over my required eight hours.
My fingers fly over the keyboard as I reply to tell her that I’m fine and that I’ll ring her once I’ve had coffee.
Pushing from the bed when I hear movement out in the living area, I pull my hair out of my face and secure it in a messy bun. After making sure my tits haven’t escaped my vest during the night, I pull my door open.
The scent of breakfast wafts down to me and my stomach rumbles.
Spike can cook?
I nod to myself as I head for the kitchen. I could really get used to living here.
“This smells amazing,” I say, stepping up to him and running my hand down his back where he stands at the cooker. His entire body tenses at my contact, and I smile.
“I’m glad you think so. Hungry?”
I press myself against his side and look up at him. “Sure am, the bacon will be
