Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 101764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
RYDER
After a lengthy shower in which we wasted plenty of water getting each other off again, Alex and I made the frigid walk to a trendy café two blocks from my apartment building.
He reached the entrance first and grabbed the door, stepping aside to hold it open for me. My stomach fluttered at the considerate gesture. “Thanks.”
As we stepped inside, warmth and the mouth-watering scents of cinnamon and coffee surrounded us, making my stomach growl.
Grunting out a laugh, Alex stomped the snow off his boots onto the rug and then walked toward the short line of customers waiting to order. “Hungry much?”
“Yes.” Trailing after him, I had to press my lips together to keep from whistling at the sight of that gorgeous ass in his sweatpants. “I’m fucking starving.”
He glanced over his shoulder and arched an eyebrow. “Sure, you haven’t had enough to eat?”
“Never.”
He grinned. Lighthearted Alex didn’t poke his head out to play too often, especially not around me, so I lapped up that easy smile like a thirsty dog. “What are you thinking?” I asked as we moved to the on-deck spot in line.
Alex craned his neck to see the glass display cases housing rows of delicious pastries and breakfast treats. He said something, but my attention was locked on the deep purple bruise rising from the collar of his winter coat. My cock twitched. Damn, he looked good with my mark on him. I’d sucked a few hickeys in other places as well. Too bad I’d been too horny in the shower to think about enjoying them up close and personal because the love bite on his neck was so sexy. I wanted to lick it right there.
Again.
“Ryder?” Alex’s forehead wrinkled. “Did you hear me?”
I blinked. “What? Sorry, I got distracted. What were you saying?”
He gave me a skeptical look before shaking his head. “Coffee cake. That cinnamon scent is driving me wild. I’m getting the coffee cake.”
You’re driving me wild.
“That sounds good, but I think I’m going for the bacon, egg, and cheese sandwich. Need the protein, you know?” I said with a wink.
Alex chuckled as a customer in front of us shifted down the counter toward the order pick-up sign. He stepped up to the counter before me because my brain was still admiring the mark I’d left on his neck.
“Good morning, gentlemen.” A curly-haired barista with an ear full of diamond studs and a tiny septum ring beneath her nose smiled at us. She wore a navy-blue apron with an embroidered coffee mug in the center of her chest. “Welcome to Brewed Awakening. What can I get for you two today?”
I opened my mouth to order, but Alex beat me to it. “Can we get a large Americano with two shots, a large regular black coffee, one slice of coffee cake, and a bacon, egg, and cheese sandwich?”
Whatever the barista said next was lost on me as I scraped my jaw off the floor. How on earth did Alex know my coffee order? Not just know it, but know it perfectly. He glanced my way with a shit-eating grin.
“How?”
He snickered. “Remember that time Parker bought coffee for everyone?”
“Yeah.”
Shrugging, he said, “I remembered.” Then his cheeks turned pink, and he glanced down as though suddenly realizing it might be strange that he memorized my coffee order after hearing it once.
Strange or not, the gesture made it hard for me to swallow. I liked that he knew that about me. Something so simple yet personal.
“Okay, gentlemen, that’ll be twenty-six dollars and forty-three cents. And is that for here or to go?”
“Here,” I answered, tapping my credit card against the reader before Alex had the chance to wiggle cash out of his wallet. He frowned, and I shot him a wink while the machine charged my card.
“And a name for the order?”
“Ryder.”
“All righty, here is your receipt. Enjoy your meal, guys.” She handed over the short slip of paper with hands adorned by two-inch-long neon green nails.
“Thank you.” I nodded at the barista, then turned to my scowling date. “Stop pouting and move down to get our food.” Smiling what I hoped was my most charming grin, I ushered him down to the end of the counter, where a few others mingled around waiting for their food.
“Ryder, I could have paid for that.”
“I know.”
“I’m serious.”
“I know,” I said again, bumping my shoulder to his. “I see how much you make in tips. You know, if you hold that grumpy facial expression for too long, your face might freeze that way.”
Finally, he snorted a laugh. “Who are you, my mom from fifteen years ago?”
“You were even grumpy as a kid?”
He nodded. “I prefer to think of it as serious.”
“Maybe, but you can be serious with a smile.”
“Ryder!” Another barista, a man with salt-and-pepper hair and a manager tag, stood by a tray with our food.