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I don’t care for any of it, but god damn, Hannah loves donuts, so I’m buying her a box before I head upstairs to see her.
I shift my weight from one foot to the other, scanning the interior of the bakery out of habit, marking anyone who might be a threat. But it’s clear of weirdos, and the faces are mostly familiar.
The line shifts, and a girl at the front counter smiles at me. I swear, I recognize her from somewhere.
She sweeps curly blonde hair behind her ear and gives me a wide smile that shows off a small gap between her front teeth. “Hi, Mr. Savage.”
“I know you?”
“Riley,” she says, tapping her name badge, then she does a double take when she realizes it’s missing. “I usually work at the Heartstopper in the afternoons. I picked up some extra work here in the mornings.”
“Right.”
“What can I get for you?” She’s young, probably in her twenties. I would expect her to be off at college, not working double shifts at two different places in town to make ends meet.
“Strawberry stuffed donuts. Half dozen. Please.”
“Sure. I’ll get that wrapped up for you.” She rings up my order on an old-timey bronze register, and I pay her with a hundred dollars. “Oh, shoot, I’ll get your change. Just give me a?—”
“Keep it,” I say.
She blinks. “Oh. Thank you. That’s very kind of you. Thank you.” She wells up, but turns away quickly.
Poor kid. I walk over to a table and sit down to wait for my order.
I grab it when my name is called then head out, taking the stairs that lead up to Hannah’s apartment two at a time. I can barely fucking wait to get there.
I want her to stay.
The realization hits me as I knock on her door.
I want this woman to stay. My ranch house is empty without her in it, and my life is slowly changing because of her. I feel lighter than I have before, more focused. I want to help her. Fuck, I want to keep her.I can’t put her in danger but I can’t let her go.
That phone call fucked me up, even though nothing came of it.
Hannah opens the door, and her face lights up. “Carter,” she says, those pretty lips parting.
I take her by the back of the neck and bring my mouth down on hers. She opens up to me immediately, moaning against my lips, kissing me back with as much need as I have for her. I kick the door shut with my heel, walk her backward, and drop the box of donuts on the coffee table. I lift her into my arms.
Hannah’s legs wrap around my waist, and I hate that she’s wearing jeans.
I grip her thighs and kiss her hard, walking her backward until she hits the opposite wall.
“I’m going to cut these off,” I say, tugging on the fabric. “I want that pussy now.”
Hannah trembles. “It’s yours,” she whispers.
I slip my hand over the front of her jeans and rub her, frustrated that I can’t reach her.
She moans and rides against my hand, arching her back, her head bumping against the wall.
“You okay?” I ask.
“I don’t care about my head,” she whispers. “Just take me, please.”
“How do you want it, Princess?”
“In my mouth.”
