Inside the coffee shop the air is so warm I can’t breathe, and black edges my vision. I’m glad when Raine storms off to get the coffee so that I can sag against the table I crashed into and close my eyes. Gather my wits. Wait for the room to stop spinning.

I suck deep lungfuls of air, and with it comes the smell of food. It smells good. Delicious. My stomach grumbles and twists painfully, reminding me it’s been empty a while.

Wrapping an arm around me, I grit my teeth and wait the cramp out. The coffee will set me right, fool my stomach into thinking it’s full. And it will warm me up. Despite the jacket and the warm air, I feel chilled to my bones.

And then I remember what I was really brought here for, and my stomach twists again, for a different reason this time.

Work. Of course, what else would you take a hooker to a coffee shop for?

Sex with Raine. Oh, I’ve imagined it. His hands on me, his mouth… his dick.

Jesus. This ain’t good for me, being here, so close to him. He’s a spoiled brat, a good boy, a handsome man, and my defenses are low. This is business, nothing more. That’s all there is to it, even if it’s not every day a handsome guy, a guy you desire, requires your services. Wanting more is a recipe for disaster.

Letting out a dark chuckle, I rub my hand over the soft leather of his jacket. It smells of him. And I’m an idiot. Wanting more? I don’t want more. I can’t want more. This is my life, this is me. This is all there is.

By the time Raine returns with a tray, I’m mostly back under control, not shivering like before, or even laughing manically. I’m calm. Ready. I’ve managed to slide off the table and sit in one of the heavy iron chairs, although I’m still wondering why nobody has come to kick me out.

Normally I’d not be let inside a place like this. Not that it’s fancy or anything, but if I don’t look like a bum on a given day, I look like a hooker, and neither is acceptable. So maybe it’s the heavy leather jacket that makes me look more respectable? The lack of glitter on my face that’s been washed clean by the rain? Or his presence looming over me?

He’s wet, too, I notice as my brain slowly starts to make sense of things. His sweater is heavy with water, his dark hair plastered to his head.

Of course he is. He gave me his jacket.

The thought cuts off my breath, so when he passes me the tall mug of steaming coffee, I just grab it, cradling it in my chilled hands, and nod.

Then he pushes a plate in front of me, and I stare at it, uncomprehending.

“Breakfast,” he says.

This morning my mind’s particularly sluggish, what with the cold and everything, but my body knows what to do. I leave the mug and grab the sandwich, stuffing half of it into my mouth in one go.

Fuck, it’s good.

So damn good. I think I just came in my pants, that’s how good this shit is. It has ham and tomato and some fancy cheese, not that I really care. I chew and swallow and bite more, before anyone takes it away from me.

I finish it in three swallows, and lick my fingers. Then check the plate in case anything was left.

My stomach cramps, full to bursting for the first time in so long, but I ignore it and sip at the coffee. As long as I don’t puke, I’m fine.

As long as I’m alive, I’m fine.

Have to be.

“Holy shit,” Raine mutters from across the table, and when I look up, he has a strange expression on his face. He looks shocked. Vaguely horrified.

Fuck me. Heat rises to my face, and I don’t think it’s the heating of this place. But fuck him, too. I mean, what? If he as much as comments on how I eat, the spoiled little brat, I’ll—

“Want another one?” he says, and my thoughts screech to a stop. He takes a sip from his coffee, nods at my empty plate.

Another what?

He pushes his own untouched sandwich toward me. “Here.”

I eye it and saliva pools in my mouth. I wanna ask him if he’s sure, but I’m reaching for it already, abandoning my half-drunk coffee.

“Just slow down,” he says, his voice a low background noise. His eyes are such a deep blue. Like denim, but darker. Layered. I’m torn between looking at them and the sandwich.

What the fuck, Jason? Get your shit together. And eat while there’s food.

You don’t have to tell me twice.

Maybe the last bite was too much. I feel like I’m gonna toss my cookies, so I lean back in the chair carefully and hope the food stays down. Throwing up now would totally suck.

At least Raine is giving me some space, sipping at his coffee, checking his phone. He’s quiet, the only noise the voices of customers sitting at nearby tables. The place isn’t as packed as I’d expected. Maybe it’s the time?

I’ve no idea what the time is. I need a phone. I always carry a cheap one with a prepaid card on me, but I lost it last week when one of Simon’s goons roughed me up. I ran, and it fell somewhere.

I often run. What else is there to do? Run from violence and problems. Run until I can’t breathe, until I can’t take another step.

And then I hide. Hiding is what I do best.

Raine shifts on his chair, puts the phone down, and his scent wafts over to me, a subtle thread under the heavy blanket of food and people smells: male musk, aftershave, and… apples?

His gaze meets mine, and I do my best not to drown in that sunny blue. “Better?” he asks.

That throws me off again. He keeps doing that today.

“What—?” I start, and stop, because... What are you trying to do? Why are you being nice to me? “What do you want?”

Angry heat descends into his eyes. “No idea what you mean.”

“Yeah?” I’m confused, and I don’t like it. “Angling for a free fuck, are you?”

His face pales, and I bite the inside of my cheek, pissed as hell and annoyed at myself, too. Not sure why my mouth insists on running its own agenda every damn time he’s around. He pushes all my buttons, even some I wasn’t aware of.

“Know what?” He starts getting up, his face red. “I’m going to work. Give me back my jacket.”

I shrug it off, throw it on the table. I shiver at the loss of warmth. His scent clings to me. “All yours.”

“Yeah, it is.” He grabs the jacket and stands up, those pretty eyes shooting daggers at me.

Ow, baby. “You still haven’t told me when and where.”

“Say what?” He blinks, and I prop my chin on my hand, giving him my best smirk.

“Ain’t that what you wanted? Business. Well, this is my business card.” I lick my lips and almost laugh when his gaze zeroes in instantly. “When and where? I could do you now, if you take another half hour off.”

He blinks again. Then his gaze narrows. “I thought,” he mutters low, leaning over the table, “that you don’t do freebies, or even discounts.”

“This ain’t a freebie,” I scoff. “It’s payment. For this.” I wave with my other hand at the empty plates and mugs. At the damn jacket. The damn coffee shop.

“And you thought I’d ask for sex in exchange for two sandwiches and a cup of coffee?”

I wanna shrug, but I make myself keep still. How much does he think I make, anyway? And besides that, it wasn’t just the sandwiches or the coffee. Above all, it was him dragging me inside, putting his jacket around me, asking me if I felt better, asking…

Fuck, no. Not doing this. Not thinking this. This is the kind of bullshit that can fuck a guy’s head up.

“I don’t have cash on me to pay for this,” I reply neutrally, holding his hot gaze. “And nothing comes for free.”

“Well, this breakfast does. It was free on my side. You can keep the change.”

Turning on his heel, he walks out, and I can’t help but notice that he has a tight, damn sexy ass.

Not that I hadn’t noticed before. There are some things you just can’t avoid noticing.

“What you said doesn’t even make sense,” I mutter after him, long after he’s gone.

None of this makes any sense.

Swallowing hard, I stare at the closed door, the voices around me mingling into a mindless hum. White noise.

And the damn lump in my throat is back. Dammit.

What’s wrong with me these days?