Page 55 of Alien War Daddy's Got Rizz
He nods, like a man trained to take directions.
He steps in, and the air shifts — warmer, taut with something unspoken. My senses catch every detail: the slight scrape of hisboots against tile, the subtle leather scent of his coat, the way his gaze drifts just a little too long over the space where I am.
I want to look away.
I don’t.
“Sit,” I say, motioning to the chair across the breakfast bar.
He pauses — like he’s not sure if Imeantit — then sits, heavy-shouldered, entire presence anchored to that chair. Not looming. Not looming in a scary way. Justpresent.
The silence between us is not calm.
It is electric.
“Coffee?” I offer, then pour two cups — one dark, one with just a hint of cream.
He accepts without a word, fingers brushing the rim of the mug, skin warm and solid.
“Thanks,” he murmurs.
And there it is.
Casual. Normal. So ordinary it becomes intimate.
We sip in silence.
I taste grounds and pressure.
He tastes like warmth and distance.
“Last night — ” I begin.
He doesn’t look at me.
Instead he sets his mug down — careful, deliberate — eyes fixed on the window.
“Yeah,” he says, voice low, almost too even. “Last night.”
His restraint is palpable.
Not cold.
Just… measured.
Like he’s holding back something heshouldn’t.
“Are we okay?” I ask it softly, like I’m testing the surface of something fragile.
He doesn’t turn to look at me.
But his thumb traces the rim of his mug so slowly, so consciously, I can practically feel the tension in his skin.
“We’re fine,” he says.
But the words aren’t likelast night.
They’re clipped. Guarded.
