Page 27 of Delta

"Well, that's cuz it ain’t coffee." he shrugs. "Never been a fan of the coppers, so nah, I ain't likely to be polite about what I calls 'em."

I take the cup from him and steal a sip, and it's…hot chocolate? As in, totally standard restaurant-grade cocoa powder. "Um. Okay. That's just hot chocolate."

"Nobody's asked you your opinion on it, 'ave they?" He takes it back from me with narrowed eyes.

“I’m not judging, Rush, I just…" I laugh. "Okay, well, sure. Fine. I'm judging you a little bit. I mean, I was under the impression that you were an adult."

“Yeah, yeah, har-har-har. I'm a grown adult who likes hot cocoa. Fuck off with your judge-y bullshit, Bryn." He sounds genuinely peeved.

I snort. "Sensitive about it, too."

"My mates used to take the piss outta me for it," he murmurs. "And yeah, I'm rather preferential to the bog-standard cheap shite. Right out of the tin with boiling water. None of those stupid, crunchy fake little marshmallows, neither. Rather a good mug of cocoa than coffee any day, and tea can fuck right off."

"An Englishman who hates tea?" I say, faking outrage. "What is this world coming to?"

He frowns at me. "Y'know, I've never once in my life thought of meself as an Englishman. A man from England, sure. Brit, yeah. Englishman? Never. Dunno why, neither." He glances at me sidelong. "You really can't understand me?"

"Sometimes yes, sometimes no. It's the slang, mostly." We're just sort of…strolling down the sidewalk, in no particular hurry. "I'm not an expert, mind you, but this has got to be the most casual getaway ever."

He grins. "This may surprise you, but I've not always operated on the right side of the law."

I clap a hand over my chest. "No! I'm shocked! Shocked, I tell you."

"Yeah, yeah, I know.” A dangerous grin, wicked dimples, twinkling greenish-brown eyes. “Me? A crook? Nahhh. Point is, in my experience, it's the running around all panicky-like that gets you caught. Stay calm, act natural, and don't look like you've done nothin' wrong. Like as not you'll get away with it."

"But we're not just evading the police," I point out. "It's the people who kidnapped me that I'm more worried about. I didn't kill anyone." I wince. "Well, that's not exactly true. Maybe I should be worried about the cops, I guess."

He cocks an eyebrow at me. "It's not true that you didn't kill anyone? I think maybe you've left out the good bits of your story, love.”

"How about you get me some real fucking clothes before I freeze my actual tits off and I'll tell you everything."

His gaze rakes over me, lingering blatantly on my cleavage—which, if I'm honest, feels nice. I don't have the biggest boobs in the world. They're not mosquito bites, but they're not Rin's monster knockers, either. So to have a hotter-than-sin bad boy like this guy checking out my rack? It just feels good.

"Be a real shame if a perfect pair like yours froze off," he says. "So then, we best find a shop, hadn’t we?"

A taxi sidles past right then, and he flags it down. He speaks to the driver in rapid, excellent, Cockney-accented German.

"A perfect pair," I mutter, half to myself. "Flattery will get you everywhere."

"What, has someone told you otherwise?" he asks.

I shrug. "Not explicitly, no. I just know when it comes to men and boobs, bigger is better, and mine aren't exactly tipping the scales."

"See, love, that's where you're wrong. Are there men out there who have a fetish for women with beach balls stapled to their chest? Sure. And that's all good and well, live and let live, says I—like what you like and I'll do the same." He lets his gaze linger on my chest again, a smirk curving his lips when my nipples harden under his scrutiny. "But most of the blokes I know feel as I do."

"Which is?"

"A tit is a tit, no matter how small, and I love them all."

I frown. "But you used the word 'perfect.'"

"I did, yes. And I meant it. Because if I had a gun to my head and was told to say what I consider the perfect pair of tits, I'd say yours."

"I'm going to require an elaboration. Because I'm not sure I believe you."

"You're just fishing for compliments, now."

I gasp in mock outrage. "How dare you! I thought we had something, Rush. And then you go and point out the truth like a heartless jerk.”