How to Tame Your Tikbalang Ch. 01

What Buhawi gleaned was that Tala was beautiful to him, her face a blend of east and west that was rare, even for these isles where everyone is a mongrel of mixed breeds. He barely heard what she said, wouldn't have been able to answer a quiz on it if his life depended on it.

He focused on the fire-lights in her dark hair, the tips of gold on her long, curling eyelashes, the way her eyes slanted up just slightly and how the sun brought out the clear amber lights in her otherwise chocolate eyes.

Tala's red lips were full, moist, hypnotic—and he wanted to kiss them, delve his tongue in and drink her deep. The scent of ylang-ylang and tuberose in her hair and on her skin wafted up to him and made him grow hard enough to drill a hole in the table, up from under.

There was this feline quality to her movements, an almost supernatural and innate grace that was at once familiar and unsettling. His warning bells were ringing, but Buhawi was in no mood to heed them so he kept up his ocular vigil of Tala.

Buhawi ogled the soft curve of Tala's throat as she tipped her head and knocked back her double chocolate latte the way a thirsty lush would knock back a solid shot of scotch. That led to him looking down the open vee of her button-down shirt to trace the soft Spanish swell of bosoms thrust out by her arched back as she swallowed and sighed because the caffeine was finally, finally taking effect.

It wasn't as if Tala was doing much better, really. She focused on taking ladylike bites of her breakfast and swigging her coffee quick as she could because this gorgeous, big specimen of maleness was too hot to look at directly. His black hair was shot with streaks of sunlight—perhaps he'd had it done at one of those fancy barbershops, but, fake or not, they suited him so very well indeed.

His face was droolworthy in a way only the matinee idols of the 1950s were. He spoke in a voice that reminded her of the hot chocolate shot through with cognac her abuelo used to let her sip on the sly. He was the embodiment of a forbidden pleasure stolen in the middle of a straitlaced day, with his muscled physique and that sudden boyishness presented by the dimples coaxed out by his smile. Even good girls get wet panties, after all, when faced with such male sublimeness.

"Oh, my goodness, is it that time already? I need to get back to work." Tala picked up her mobile phone and smoothed the sides of her jeans down, skimming her hands over fidgety hips.

"It was nice meeting you, Buhawi. Thank you for not eating me." Tala's words were sincere, with just a hint of Catholic schoolgirl flirt in it, as she held out her hand to him.

"It was my pleasure. Though I do think you would make a very nice snack, Tala," Buhawi flirted measure for measure without rising from his seat (there was a VERY big reason for that besides his desire to set her at ease). He took her hand and bowed over it.

With a smile and nervous a wave because of Buhawi's strange gesture, Tala exited the coffee shop, her hips swaying and her scent trailing behind her.