Page 8 of Leave Me Behind
He dips down and runs his tongue from the center of my throat up to my lips and kisses me a few times before murmuring, “Ask me something.”
A new heat throbs between my thighs. I let him guide me to the wall as he strokes his tongue over my collar bone, tasting my wet flesh and feeling every inch of my body with his hands.
I suppress a moan and say, “I was actually kind of hungry and was going to wash up before going to that diner we passed down the block.”
Bradshaw pulls back and assesses me, narrowing his eyes like he can’t quite figure me out. But he smiles.
“Damn. Rejectedagain,” he mumbles and raises a brow. “Want company?”
I break.
“Sure.”
three
. . .
Nell
Bradshaw fitsin with the whole late night at a twenty-four-hour diner vibe. His black attire is gloomy and his hood is securely back over his head where it belongs.
I thank the waitress as she brings me a cup of coffee and eggs benedict. Bradshaw ordered a cup of orange juice and a breakfast burrito.
It’s now one in the morning.So much for going to bed early. But I don’t mind being tired tomorrow. This is a much,muchbetter night than I could’ve hoped for. I haven’t felt anything like this in two years. And the longing to care for someone again is an ache I’m not ready to settle yet. I’ll bask in his presence for as long as I can.
We haven’t said a word to each other since arriving. He just keeps staring at me like he’s trying to figure me out. At least he’s not full-on glaring anymore.
I drop two sugar cubes into my mug and three packages of the small fake milk cups they leave on each table in a white bowl. Bradshaw takes a bite of his burrito and shuts his eyes.
“That good?” I tease, cutting into my eggs and eager to follow him into the food bliss.
He nods. “Best one a.m. burrito I’ve ever had.”
I laugh. “How manyhaveyou had?”
He shrugs. “I guess this is the first.”
“You’ve never gone out for late-night food?”
He shakes his head, the empty expression slowly returning to his eyes. “I was never allowed to leave the house at night growing up. And I joined the military young.” He keeps it brief.
My throat bobs. I knew it.Avoid the topic of work.
“Why? Were your parents super strict with you and Eren?” I ask before shoving food in my mouth. I shut my eyes as the hollandaise takes over my tastebuds.So good.
He looks up at me and smirks.
“We were orphaned early on. The foster folks let Eren do whatever he wanted. They only kept me locked away because they thought I was going to hurt people if I had the chance.”
My fork stills on my plate.
“Would you have?”
Bradshaw studies me inquisitively before ultimately saying, “Maybe. I was always sort of anoffkid.”
Me too.I want to admit but the words die on my tongue.
“Hmm, that’s odd,” he says, a darkness blooming over those icy eyes.
