Page 18 of My Defiant Mate
Two hours. "Plenty of time, then."
His laugh turns into a gasp when I nip his earlobe. "For what?"
"Coffee." I pull back, grinning at the disappointment on his face. "And maybe breakfast. You need to eat."
He blinks, surprised. "Oh."
"What, did you think I was going to drag you back to bed?" I tease, tracing my thumb over his bottom lip. I tug the collar of my shirt back up over his shoulder, covering the mark there. It's not for anyone else to see. It's for me.
"The thought had crossed my mind," he says, his voice prim, but his eyes are hungry. It drives me crazy.
I stand, pulling him up with me. "Later," I promise, my voice dropping to a growl. "Right now, I need caffeine, and you need food."
His stomach growls, loud in the quiet room. He blushes, and I laugh.
"See? Food first, then I'll fuck you senseless."
"You're crude," he says, but there's no bite to it.
"You love it."
His eyes meet mine, and he looks soft and vulnerable. "Maybe I do."
His words hit me harder than I expect. I lean in and kiss him, softer than I meant to. When I pull back, he looks dazed, his lips slightly parted.
"Get dressed," I say, my voice rough. "The Daily Grind awaits."
***
The morning rush is over, so the line is short.
Toby walks beside me like he's in a minefield. His shoulders are tight, his eyes darting everywhere. Every time someone looks at us, he tenses.
"Relax," I murmur, my mouth close to his ear. "You look guilty as hell."
"I am guilty," he hisses back. "I didn't do my morning rounds. I'm wearing yesterday's clothes, for god's sake."
He's back in his own clothes, and even though he tried to smooth them out, they're still rumpled. My hoodie is tied around his waist, hiding the worst of it. But he's right. Toby always looks perfect. This disheveled version of him is a beacon announcing he got laid.
Shit. If Henderson sees him like this, if he puts it together with yesterday… Toby has every right to be nervous.
"Maybe we should be more careful," I say as we get to the front of the line. "At least until we figure out what to do about Henderson."
His head whips around, his eyes wide with surprise. "You're suggesting discretion? You?"
"I'm suggesting we don't give that asshole any ammunition," I clarify. "Not that we hide. Just… we play it smart."
Marcel clears his throat, his eyebrows raised high on his forehead. "You two lovebirds gonna order, or just stand there making eyes at each other all day?"
Toby's face turns bright red. I grin.
"The usual for me," I say. "And a vanilla latte for him. And two of those chocolate croissants."
Marcel's gaze flicks between us. He takes a long, deliberate sniff of the air, then lets out a low whistle.
"Well, well," he says, his gruff voice full of amusement. "Fated, huh? Didn't see that coming."
"Is it that obvious?" Toby asks, his voice a mortified whisper.
