Warnings: Burn injury. Foreplay. Language. Mention of mugging.

I'm anxious the instant I enter the shop the next day. I keep picking at the scarf I was forced to wear because of the marks Jason left on my neck last night. In hindsight, I really should have stopped him before he'd done that. Oh well. Too late now.

Will he show up again? Maybe he'll find a different place to get coffee. The city has plenty of choices.

If he does come, I wonder how he'll act. How will I act, for that matter? I'm worried that he'll break through the chinks in my armor if he tries.

I'm also worried that he won't try at all.

Several hours pass and I don't see Jason. You'd think that would calm me down, but instead, I'm just more nervous.

I've got my back turned to the counter when I hear someone rap their knuckles against it. I take a deep breath and prepare to turn around when a familiar voice snaps, "Quad espresso with one pump of cinnamon syrup, sweetheart. And don't forget that it's just one pump, all right?"

Fuck.

Part of me is grateful that he's made me angry. It will make him easier to resist.

"I'm waiting here, sweetheart." I grit my teeth, carefully arranging my face in a big false smile before I turn around.

"Coming right up, Mr. Crouse," I say cheerfully, starting to make his coffee. He doesn't acknowledge me, but he still manages to completely distract me when he pulls a pair of glasses from his pocket and puts them on. They have thick black rims, and he makes sure they rest delicately on the end of his nose as he squints down at his phone.

Fuck me standing. I didn't think it was possible for him to get sexier, but I was dead wrong.

I've stopped paying attention to what I'm doing because I'm staring at him. His gaze finally flicks to me when I scream and drop the metal foamer I'm holding because my negligence has caused me to burn myself. "Fuck!" I hiss. Luckily the noise is soft enough so that only he can hear me. I dart over to the nearby sink and start running cold water over my hand, but I can already tell that I need to go to the ER.

A bunch of customers come through the door. I'm alone; my co-worker won't be back from his break for a few minutes and I have to take care of things. I pull my hand out of the sink; I can barely move it, but it will have to do.

Jason is frowning at me over his glasses when I turn back to the coffee machine. I try to will my hand to stop shaking, wiping the tears of shock and pain off my face with my good hand before starting his order over. His frown deepens.

"You can't work like that," he protests. "You need to go to the hospital."

"I'll be fine," I grind out. "And in case you haven't noticed, Mr. Crouse, I'm the only one here at the moment who knows how to do everything."

He laughs. "Well, it can't be that hard." I stare at him incredulously as he sits on the counter, swinging his long legs around so he can join me behind it. "Let me."

I open my mouth to protest, and then think better of it. He wants to talk a big game? He thinks that anyone can do my job?

Fine. Let him prove it.

I wrap a wet towel around my hand and lean back against the sink to watch Jason work. The first customer orders just a regular coffee, so he does fine on that one.

Then the next customer steps up to the counter, snapping her gum obnoxiously, and rattles off an order that's my worst nightmare. "I want, like, an iced half-caff venti ristretto cinnamon dolce soy skinny latte with four pumps." I cover my mouth with my hand so she can't hear me snort. It's a ridiculous order. Ristretto espresso is made with half of the water of a normal espresso, but adding all of those extras just makes the whole thing a useless pain in the ass.

He doesn't even know what she said, but goddamn if he doesn't try. I start to laugh uncontrollably as his brow furrows and he starts frowning at everything in sight. It only takes about thirty seconds for the girl to get upset. "Um, like, what are you doing? Is it your first day or something? I mean, a monkey could do this stupid job." She starts giggling with all of her friends and I watch as the set of Jason's shoulders changes.

Suddenly, I feel awful. Sure, I wanted to see him get taken down a peg, but I think his feelings are actually hurt. A pang of compassion blooms in my chest as I take pity on him. I unwrap my hand and come up next to him, touching his arm. "Let me," I say quietly. For a moment, he looks like he wants to object, but the giggling continues and he finally steps back.

I manage the order. As I set the girl's unnecessarily complicated drink in front of her, she sneers, "About time."

I give her a dazzling smile and icily reply, "He's a customer who was kindly trying to help me because I hurt myself. You could learn something from him."

She stares at me blankly as I take the rest of her friends' orders, but she doesn't respond. By the time I get them rung up, my co-worker is back. I explain what happened and he's sympathetic; he tells me to leave even though my replacement isn't in for an hour. I head to the back to get the jacket I actually remembered to bring today. When I return, Jason is leaning against the wall waiting for me.

"What are you doing?" I sigh. I really don't have the strength to deal with this right now.

"I'm driving you to the ER," he says matter-of-factly. "You walked home last night, so I assume that means you don't have a car."

I blink at him. "I can't afford one," I reveal. My hand is red and throbbing. Accepting the ride would be the smart thing to do. I'd get there faster.

"Well, I have one, so come on. You need to get that looked at." He reaches out and puts his arm around my shoulders to guide me to the door.

"Okay," I murmur, leaning against him. He looks down at me, clearly surprised that I've stopped resisting. "It hurts," I explain quietly. He lets his lips graze my forehead as he takes me out the door.

His car is parked at the curb. I stare at it as he opens the door for me. "You have a Porsche? You know my ass isn't even worthy to sit in this car, right?"

"Stop being sarcastic and get in," he says seriously. "I'm worried about your hand." He looks so earnest that I obey immediately and slide into the car. I slip my jacket on as he comes around to the driver's side.

While he gets the car started, I glance sideways at him. "I didn't know you wore glasses," I observe. He chuckles.

"That's because I try not to wear them," he points out. "I'm stubborn like that."

"You? Stubborn? I never would have guessed," I tease. He grimaces.

"As you saw." He pauses before pulling out into traffic. "I really stuck both feet in my mouth back there, huh?" He looks at me sheepishly and I smile.

"I told you…" I can't resist saying. He rolls his eyes.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, quit nagging." He smiles at me and starts to drive. After a moment, he adds, "Thanks for defending me back there. You didn't have to, especially after I treated you like shit."

I shrug nonchalantly. "What she said wasn't fair. And that was one of the most complicated orders she could have chosen. It was completely asinine. It wasn't your fault."

Jason doesn't say anything. He reaches over and takes my hand, pulling it up to his lips and holding it there. I stay quiet, suddenly feeling like it's not appropriate to say anything. I lean back against the seat, turning my head so I can look at him as he drives.

We have to wait a while at the ER, which isn't surprising. I actually fall asleep against Jason for a bit; when I wake up, he's stroking my face and hair and looking at me thoughtfully.

The doctor tells me I have a second-degree burn. He puts cream on it, wraps it, and gives me a prescription. Jason drags me to the pharmacy to make sure I get it filled before we leave.

We don't say anything to each other the entire time.

Once we're back in the car, he just starts driving, so I finally speak up. "You haven't asked where I live," I mention.

"That's because I'm taking you to where I live," Jason answers easily. I blanch.

Where he lives? I can't do that. Be in his… apartment? House? Wherever? Even I don't have that much willpower.

"That's not necessary, Jason," I stammer. "And besides, I have to work tomorrow, so I need to…"

"You're not going to work hurt," Jason protests, turning into an apartment complex in an area of the city that I am certainly not wealthy enough to step foot in.

Now that my hand doesn't hurt as much, I have the presence of mind to resist him. "Jason, you don't get to tell me what to do. I hardly know you. And I get paid hourly, by the way. I barely have benefits, and I don't get sick days or vacation days. I can't afford to not go to work."

Jason parks the car and frowns. "You need to heal. How much do you make a day? I can pay you for the days you miss."

"Are you kidding me? Jason, that's not… I can't…" I sputter for a moment and then finally find the words I want. "Jason, that doesn't make any sense. Why would you do that?" He gets out, coming around to my side of the car and bending over to kiss my nose. I stare up at him dumbly, waiting for his answer.

"Because I've decided that I like you," he informs me. "And we may be… wrong for each other," he repeats my words from last night, "but I don't care. I want more than a few beautiful kisses brought on by ridiculous circumstances. So get your sexy ass out of my car and into my apartment."

I gaze around Jason's apartment in confusion. Everything is glass and chrome and marble. "Was this place decorated by RoboCop?" I ask, arching my eyebrow at him.

He snorts. "What? I thought it was nice. Isn't it?" He looks uncertain as he glances around.

"This is going to sound strange considering that I just chastised you for not knowing me very well, but… it just doesn't seem like you at all." He bites his lower lip and looks at me.

"Really?"

I nod. "Really."

"What seems like me?" he asks curiously. He turns so he can unbutton my jacket and slip it off, throwing it over the chrome arm of his black leather couch. He lifts my purse, which is slung across my chest, over my head next. "Why do you wear your purse under your jacket?" he muses, taking his suit jacket off and tossing it over my things.

"So it's harder to get mugged when I walk home," I shrug. He frowns.

"Have you been mugged?" he wonders, his brow furrowing in concern.

"Not really. A guy tried to grab my purse once, but he couldn't get it off of me. I kicked him in the shin and he cried and ran away." Jason starts to laugh, running his hand over his beard as he loosens his tie.

"Really?" He steps closer, pulling his glasses down his nose as he looks down at me. I stare up at him. In the right light, his hazel eyes have a golden sheen. I blink rapidly. Is there a way to become immune to handsomeness?

"What?" I swallow, trying to make my voice light. "Just because I burned my hand on a coffee machine doesn't mean I can't be a badass." He looks amused, and I quickly shuffle my thoughts, returning to his earlier question.

"You just seem more rugged than modern, to be honest," I reveal. "When I think about you, I picture lots of wood and soft colors. Grays, dark greens, browns. And books," I muse. "Shelves and shelves of books."

"Why?"

I shrug. "I don't know. It's just what I see. You don't seem made for all of… this." I gesture at everything around us. "You just don't seem to fit the life you have, Jason."

He contemplates that for a moment and then raises his eyebrow. "You think about me?" He sounds… excited. He puts his hands in his pockets, and the corner of his mouth lifts in a pleased grin.

"More than I should," I whisper, feeling my cheeks get hot. I bite my tongue so I don't tell him that he's irresistible and mysterious.

He lifts his hands and swallows carefully, reaching behind my head and untwisting my hair until it falls in loose waves to my chin. He's looking at me like I'm some kind of enlightening oracle. He runs his fingers through my hair slowly. When he speaks again, his voice is low and husky. "I've been meaning to ask you," he rumbles, "what made you burn your hand?"

I gaze up at him and slowly shake my head. There's no way I'm telling him that.

"Just careless, I guess," I breathe as his hands slide down to my neck to undo my scarf.

"You don't usually wear a scarf," he comments, then smiles slyly as he exposes my skin. His fingertips ghost over the purple spots he left behind yesterday.

"You kind of forced my hand on that one," I admit.

He nods, looking proud of himself. "You're not careless," he states. "Tell me the truth." As he says it, he reaches up and slides his glasses off the rest of the way, putting one of the temples in his mouth and sucking on it lightly.

Fuck. He noticed.

Any words I have left die in my throat as he smiles, turning the glasses around in his hands and sliding them onto my face gently. I bite my lip and he tilts my chin up with his thumb before gently dragging it down over my throat. "I'm sorry I made you burn yourself," he apologizes. "I suppose I can see why it happened." He runs a finger over the rim of the glasses and cups my cheek in his big, warm hand. "Glasses really do make a person sexier."

Before I can think of anything clever to say, he kisses me. Softly. Slowly. His lips feel familiar to me now, and that's dangerous.

But I'm ready to live dangerously.

I lean up into Jason's kiss, making it deeper. He gasps against my mouth and glides his hands over my shoulders and then my sides. When his fingers slip under my fitted t-shirt, my skin prickles. "What are you doing?" I pant. He chuckles as he nudges the fabric up to the base of my bra.

"You don't want to stay in your work clothes, do you? I'll give you a shirt you can sleep in." His mouth never leaves mine as he speaks, and when he's done, his tongue traces my lips.

I laugh. "Well, I've never slept in a $4,000 shirt," I joke. Jason smirks.

"The shirts don't cost $4,000, Robin," he assures me, leaning back just long enough to tug mine over my head. His glasses go crooked on my nose, and I reflexively move my hands to straighten them, but he stops me.

"Leave them like that," he requests. When he lets my hands go, I start to unbutton his shirt, pulling it out of his pants and then running my hands up his torso before I twine them back around his neck. He undoes my pants and pushes them down my thighs, then he surprises me by lifting me so I can kick them off the rest of the way. He doesn't set me back down, pulling me closer, and when the bare skin of my belly meets his, a shiver runs up my spine.

"You don't have to wear anything, you know," he says. "My damn fancy sheets feel really nice, I promise."

"Do they really?" I whisper as he slides his palm up my spine so he can deftly undo my bra with one hand. There's no hiding how aroused I am when he tugs on the bra and my hard nipples rub against the hair on his chest. He actually moans, bouncing me up further in his arms and walking me to his bedroom. When he lays me on his damn fancy sheets, I gasp. They're unbelievably soft.

So is his beard as he crawls on top of me and begins kissing his way down my neck to my chest. I can feel how hard he is through his dress pants, and my legs fall open automatically as he grinds against me.

Jason circles his nose around my nipple and I whimper. He smiles against my skin and nips at the taut peak playfully before slowly kissing his way back up to my mouth.

I tangle my good hand in his hair, massaging his scalp as his mouth hovers over mine. "I promise to make you feel good," he murmurs. I can hear the seriousness in his voice.

"All right," I breathe, my hips twitching up as he lowers himself down to kiss me yet again.