Chapter 5

Coleson

I glance over my shoulder at Eliza McDavid from where I’m bent down, getting the lotus tea I’ve already brewed from the cooler. She leans her cheek on her palm, watching as I make her drink. Her gaze is intense, as always.

She has been asking me to train her for months so that she can open her own “little coffee spot” in her sister’s bookstore. I considered it since I am training at the arena a lot more, and I figured I could have her work for me as payment. But for some reason, I can’t do it. I feel like I’d be betraying my dad’s legacy by helping someone open another coffee place in town. Even if it is just a small little spot for the shoppers in the bookstore, that’s still my business. They come here first, and then they go to the bookshop. I’m still making money, and people are drinking my dad’s creations.

I’d be an idiot to train her.

Plus, I like looking at her.

More so than I would ever admit. I don’t get it either. I mean, that’s stupid to say—I do get it. I just don’t like that I am attracted to her. I never chase girls. They come sniffing around, and I give them what they want. McDavid? She looks right through me and only focuses on the coffees and teas I make. She’s never asked me about anything other than my business. Maybe she’s into girls? I wonder if she’d let me watch? Or even join in? I wonder how El would feel about me having two wives?

I don’t even need to wonder. She wouldn’t approve.

McDavid is adorably hot, and she’s so small, I could put her in my pocket and take her out whenever I wanted. She has to be a full foot shorter than me, but she carries herself with such grace and confidence, she seems taller. Today, she’s wearing a crop top with tight black leggings. Her jacket is open, showing off her heavy breasts and her round hips. She has a little bit of a belly that I can see in her leggings, and I want nothing more than to rip those leggings off her and trace my tongue along the curve of her stomach. She’s all softness and curves, and I want to get lost in her body. Her hair is down in dark waves, reaching the curve of her ass, making me want to wrap it around my hand and yank her head back for a thorough kiss. She has a little button nose, high cheekbones, and a bottom lip that is fuller than her top. Her eyes look more green than brown, with long, dark lashes that make them seem brighter even in the low lights of the coffeehouse.

She’s beautiful, and she wants nothing to do with me. Just my coffeehouse. I worry that, despite my intention of only training her how to make a good cup of coffee, she’ll end up training me how she wants me between her legs.

Damn it, I need to get laid.

Or jerk off more than once a day.

Maybe up it to four times a day when I see her.

My stomach clenches with inconvenient need as I continue making her drink. My cock presses into the zipper of my jeans at thoughts of having her laid out on the counter, a cup of coffee that I made her in her hand, with my head between her thighs, slurping up all her sweetness. She’s a little thing, and it would be nothing for me to tow her around. Take her on every surface. She wouldn’t even need to use her strength. I’d have her. I bet she’s too sweet. It’d be like dipping my fingers in honey.

Fuck me. I haven’t been with anyone in six months, like I said I wouldn’t, and it really sucks that my celibacy isn’t rewarded. I’m not saying I need a medal, but fuck, if someone could give me a break and like me, that’d be nice.

I let out a strangled sigh and then fill my lungs once more, trying to compose myself. I exhale that breath before I reach for a black straw. Then I rip the paper so that it’s still covered at the top for her to remove before turning to hand the drink to McDavid. Her eyes light up, and a smile curves her lips before she reaches out to take it from me. Our fingers brush at the exchange, and our eyes lock. Her eyes are such an interesting shade of hazel. There is a lot of green within the brown and even some flecks of gold. Her eyes sure are something, and under her gaze, I feel like she can see into my soul.

Which is unnerving as fuck.

She tips the drink at me in a gesture of thanks. “You sure you don’t want to train me?”

Unlike how I usually answer her, I pause this time as her question repeats itself over and over in my head. She wants something from me. McDavid has been asking me to train her for almost a year now, and I’ve never considered it.

Until I found out I needed a wife.

I move my gaze to her nose, to her lips, and then down as much of her body as I can see. I could be married to her. She wouldn’t make it hard. She’s easygoing. She takes my rejection about training her with ease. Doesn’t argue or even try to convince me to help her. She asks, and when I say no, she sends me a grin and goes on her way. I’ve heard people all throughout town say she’s the nicer one between her and her sister who owns the bookshop. People like her; some even respect her. She volunteers around town and even knits hats for the homeless shelter.

People love her.

I bring in my brows as I meet her confused gaze. Her mouth is parted, the straw against her plump bottom lip as she watches me. I probably look like an idiot staring at her as I assess her, but I can’t help it.

I sure as hell can’t hold myself back from asking, “Are you seeing anyone?”