“It’s late, or early, depending on how you want to look at it,” she laughed and shyly stared at the floor.
I frowned, wondering why she was still talking. When she looked up at me through her long lashes, the view of her in face in the moonlight stole my breath. If I were a painter, I would’ve created a damn masterpiece off that one stunning memory alone.
“Are you hungry?” My frown deepened, and I watched her swallow. Her hand lifted to twirl that same loose strand of hair around her finger. “I… I mean, would you like to get breakfast with me? That is if you’re hungry?” she asked nervously.
I opened my mouth to say no, when my stomach growled. Truth was, I was fucking starving.
Aliyana, on hearing my stomach, paused, then smiled a dimpled megawatt smile, the beauty of it nearly knocking me the fuck out. This time, there was no smirk, just a reluctant smile spreading on my lips.
It felt strange to smile. I hadn’t in so long.
“Elpi,” Aliyana said through a uncontained laugh. “You actually smiled!” Her face was all lit up like lights at Christmas, and I shook my head.
“Yeah, don’t get used to it. It’s a rare occurrence.”
Aliyana stepped back and put her hand on her chest. “And you have a sense of humor too?”
I watched her laughing, and my chest tightened to the point I thought the muscles would tear underneath my skin.
As Aliyana gradually lost her laughter, she stepped even closer to me, her tits brushing against my shirt. I wasn’t smiling anymore. No, now I was breathing hard, fighting the urge to take her in my arms and smash my lips to hers.
Aliyana blinked, then blinked again without saying a word, only to then offer, “Breakfast?”
Lifting my hand, I couldn’t help but take that long strand of hair that fell over her cheek and tuck it back into her messy knot.
Hearing Aliyana’s breath hitch at my touch, I couldn’t resist leaning down, inhaling the scent of her hair… lavender.
Aliyana’s firm tits brushed against my thin T-shirt, her slim thigh pressing firm against my hard cock. Her warm, minty breath blew over my cheek, bristling my beard, when I reached into my back pocket, pulling out my car keys.
“I’ll drive,” I said roughly, moving back, snapping the unbearable tension that had cocooned us.
Breathless, Aliyana pressed her hand against her stomach, getting her bearings. “Okay,” she managed to say and fell into step behind me as I burst through the curtains, hightailed it out of the exit and gasped in the cool Seattle air, light rain splashing against my heated face.
Hearing the door close behind me, I pulled out a smoke and placed it between my lips. I inhaled a long, sweet drag, the smoke filling my lungs, calming me the fuck down.
Without glancing behind me, I pounded pavement to my car and opened the passenger door, leaving it open for Aliyana. As I slumped into the driver’s seat, Aliyana dropped down beside me, her brown eyes still glazed from our moment under the dome.
Lifting my smoke, I inhaled a long drag, then flicked the ash into the ashtray on the dash. “Where we going?” I asked, looking straight ahead through the blurred-with-rain windshield. “I don’t know Seattle yet.”
Aliyana sucked in a breath. “Neither do I. I can only think of one place.”
“Is it private, you know, not busy with a shitload of folk?”
“It’s small.”
Switching on the ignition, I stubbed out my Marlboro cherry, lit another smoke, and let it sit on my bottom lip.
“Direct me.”
Chapter Eight
Axel
The longer we drove, the more I knew I shouldn’t be here with this woman. But I was, and honestly, I wasn’t gonna be going anywhere. I was going to breakfast with Aliyana for no other reason than I couldn’t go anywhere else. She’d asked, and I’d agreed. There was no other choice.
“It’s just over there,” Aliyana said, pointing to a small café tucked away on the waterfront. I laughed to myself. It was just three blocks from my studio.
In minutes, I’d parked the El Camino and we got out, the sunrise starting to break. No one was around except the market workers setting up for the day and early buyers waiting for the fresh fish to come in from the boats.
Aliyana and I entered the café overlooking the Sound, where we were told to pick wherever we wanted to sit. The guys who ran the place were still setting up, so I walked ahead of Aliyana to the farthest corner and sat down. The place was full of Italian flags, the servers Latino in their features and clearly Italian too.
I wondered if she’d picked this place because she’d worked out my heritage or whether it was because she just liked the coffee.
As I dropped to the seat, Aliyana sat down opposite me and took another glance around the empty café. We were alone. Good.
“This okay for you? This empty café?” she asked with a teasing smile.
“Yeah,” I replied, and she smiled wider at my curt response.
And there she went again, amused at my attitude. Most people would have given up on trying to talk to me by now, but it was like she didn’t get that I liked to be left alone. That I didn’t want people round me… I wanted to just fucking be.
“You’re not one for small talk, are you?”
Aliyana’s eyes looked tired. Fuck, I knew mine did too, but hers didn’t lose their playful glint as she stared at me, awaiting my answer.
“Not really.”
She laughed again.
A server came to us then, calling back to a server in the kitchen to set up the patio. He’d spoken in perfect Italian. The waiter arrived at our table, his eyes flaring as they fell on Aliyana.
The guy flushed bright red and fumbled his notepad and pen in his hand. Something tightened in my stomach as Aliyana smiled up at him and the fucker flashed her a toothy smile.
Feeling fucked off that this asshole was hovering, I sat back in my chair and glared. He soon met my eyes, and when he did, his eyes immediately dropped to the notepad and he nervously asked us what we wanted.
“Caffè doppio e una brioche alla crema,” I ordered.
The server looked up and, although his expression was still guarded, he asked, “Tu parli Italiano?”
“Si,” I replied.
“Da dove vieni?” he asked, wanting to know where I was from.
“No, sono Americano. I miei genitori loro sono Italiani,” I said, telling him my mamma and papa were Italian, not me.