An Eye For An Eye (Fast & Furious | Hobbs/OFC)

Chapter 37

"From now on, if anyone so much as gives you a broken nail, I'll kill them."

For a moment, she seemed wary. Like she was wondering exactly what had provoked that kind of talk from him. Luke didn't quite know the answer himself, but the scar on her stomach, the things she'd told him, had clearly sunk into his subconscious. His volatile and now rather vengeful subconscious.

"So what'd you grab?"

Just like that, Shaw changed the subject, shifting the conversation to the plastic bag in his right hand and the containers inside it. Luke shifted his attention along with it, pulling out two forks from the bag and tossing her one. "Pancakes."

"Did you bring ice cream?"

For breakfast? "Woman, why would I..."

Elizabeth got up on her knees and leaned forward, hands coming to rest on his lower thighs as she braced herself on him. "I thought you liked your dessert first."

It was the husky tone of her voice that did Luke in. The low, sultry rasp sending a shiver down his spine. The less than subtle implication that ice cream wasn't the dessert she was talking about. Then she smiled and pushed off the bed, getting up and stepping out of the room, leaving him feeling like he was about to pop a stitch in his briefs.

Jesus. Who was supposed to be seducing who?

Taking a breath, Luke got their breakfast organised and leaned back against the wardrobe tucked into the corner between the bed and the door. She'd have no more need to invade his space like that again, or any reason to get close until she was screwing him.

With him.

Screwing with him.

Shaw came back two minutes later with one large scoop of vanilla in a bowl, but she wasn't finished. Not in the least. Instead of immediately sitting down, eating her food and giving him a few minutes of quiet, Elizabeth stopped by his side again. She leaned down, lips all but skimming the shell of his ear, and murmured. It took his brain a moment to register the words he'd just heard, let alone process them, but as Elizabeth sat and helped herself to her breakfast, they sank in.

"You know, that was kind of hot before. It almost sounded like you meant it."

Luke looked up, catching her attention. She tilted her head slightly, focused solely on him as he said, "I did."

And just like that, she was thrown off her game. Vulnerable again. He could see it in her eyes, the way she pressed her lips together and her grip on the fork loosened ever so slightly before she dropped her gaze to the container of ice cream, syrup, and warm pancakes. Elizabeth poked at her food, saying nothing in response. Maybe she didn't know what to say, or maybe she didn't know how to respond, period. Maybe she'd never heard those words, that kind of sentiment, come from anyone in her entire life.

"Ice cream, huh?" Luke reached across, spearing the scoop with his fork, and took it before she could react. He broke it in half, returning one hemisphere to her container and leaving the other on his own stack of pancakes. Breaking off a piece of his ice cream, he ate it with a bite of pancakes and nodded in approval. "Hmm. Not bad."

"Yeah."

There was that flat tone again. A tone he didn't like if Luke was being honest with himself. It spoke of detachment and apathy. Those walls building themselves back up to cut Shaw off from the world and protect herself from being hurt. The same walls he'd built around himself after his team died, with only a Sam-sized hole for his daughter to walk through. Eventually, he'd dismantled them when he was ready.

Elizabeth had clearly never reached that point, and he doubted she ever would.

Not when she threw her defences up at the slightest hint of trouble. The smallest sign that suggested—God forbid—she might be as human as the rest of them.