I opened the door and stood aside, anticipating the effects of alcohol mixed with gravity.
Much to my surprise, Cole didn’t fall.
Holding a bottle of Four Roses in one hand, he stumbled but caught himself on the wall. Paused. Gained his bearings. Turned his head to find me. “Natalie. Natalie King. Nat King.” He dropped his arms and swayed, then smiled and punched at this chest. “And Cole. Nat King Cole. Get it?” He laughed a hard belly laugh.
Tears streaming down his face, clutching his gut, he slid to the floor.
I closed the door, dug pain relievers out of my suitcase, snagged a water bottle out of the mini fridge, tossed the lid, then joined him on the carpet. We sat opposite each other, but a safe distance apart.
“What’s going on, Cole?”
“Do you think I’m stupid?” he asked, eyes trying to focus but missing their target.
“Of course not. Why?” I offered him the bottle of water.
He swatted my hand away. “I love her, you know?”
“I know.” I didn’t know because, honestly, I knew nothing about their relationship. On purpose. Because it was none of my business.
“I’m a good catch, yeah?” He bent his legs, planted his elbows onto his knees, scrubbed a hand through his hair. “My parents raised me right. Taught me the value of hard work, integrity, how to treat the ladies in my life right. Respect.”
“They sound like great parents.”
“They are. They really are.” He laughed again, then his features fell dark. “They’ve never liked Victoria.”
They were great judges of character obviously.
“She asked me out first. Did you know that?”
I shook my head no.
He nodded yes. “Pursued me for weeks. I had taken a friend of hers out once or twice, and I really liked the girl, but she just stopped calling. Ghosted me. Then Victoria was there. Just everywhere. I didn’t want to date a friend of a girl I’d been with, so I politely declined Victoria’s advances. But, damn, she was relentless.” He dangled his arms over his knees. “I figured, if she was going to all that trouble for one date, I had to give it a shot.”
“Sounds like a great love story, Cole,” I said to appease, the words so sour on my tongue I wanted to vomit.
Head dropped between his arms, he murmured, “She hasn’t fucked me in months.”
“What?”
“Not since… Shit.” He looked to the ceiling. Laughed. Dropped his gaze, missing my eyes, and landing on my mouth. “Not since the night you met Martin.”
I tried to do the math in my head, wariness making it difficult. How many months ago had that been?
How could she be with Cole and not want him every hour of every day? He was gorgeous, virile, sweet, and so goddamned sexy.
Months? She hadn’t touched him in months?
“Is she sick or something?” I blurted in a mild state of shock.
He huffed. “No. Always busy, or tired, or distracted, or out of town.”
“You’re a saint, Cole Adams. I don’t know many men who would put up with not getting laid for months at a time.”
“I’m no saint.” He twisted the top off his half empty bottle, took a swig, then scratched his forehead with his thumb. “If I were a saint, I wouldn’t have you on my mind every time I jack off.” He then pointed at me as if accusing. “I wouldn’t be here, hoping to get lost in you. Wishing you would hate my fiancée so much that you’d let me fuck you, use me, use my body, just to get back at her. Sometimes I wish you were a heartless bitch who didn’t care about morals or being faithful so I could do all the dirty things I want to do to you.”
My throat shriveled. Tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. God, it would be so easy. So easy to take what I wanted from Cole. Only, I wanted everything. All of him. That included his happiness, his success, in life and in marriage. A union that regretfully did not include me.
I snatched the bourbon out of his hand and suffered two swallows, the warm liquid heating me from throat to gut.
Cole watched, his tongue sweeping between his lips. I set the bottle out of his reach. He rocked forward, landing on hands and knees, jaw tight, eyes tortured yet determined, our noses threatening to touch.
He breathed. I breathed.
“You ever think about us, how we met, how great we’d be together?”
“No,” I lied.
“I don’t believe you,” he snarled, staring at my lips.
Oh, sweet Jesus, he wanted to kiss me. My soul begged for that connection. But I had to be the strong one. Cole was currently incapable.
“I would leave her. If you asked me, I would leave my fiancée. That’s how fucked I am over you.”
“You’re drunk, Cole.” My pulse raced, body hummed.
“I am.” He leaned closer, our mouths dangerously close to colliding. “I’m so fucking wasted. So tired of fighting this pull between us.”
I hated Victoria with everything I had in me.
“You love her,” I reminded him.
“Is there anything more powerful than love?” he asked, his whiskey breath warming my skin. “Because that’s what I suffer. Every fucking day. It physically hurts, not being able to touch you.” He pounded his chest. “How can I feel this way? How? When I don’t even know you, not really.”
My skin tightened, shrinking, tingling.
The word destiny came to mind, then escaped my lips, breathy and exhausted.
Our hearts belonged side by side. I had no doubt. Or maybe the alcohol was kicking in. Or sleep depravity.
I was not a cheater. Cole was not a cheater. He was drunk. I was love drunk but still had my wits. And yes, my morals, too, despite hating them at the moment.
I placed a hand on Cole’s chest, pushed him far enough away that I could stand, then walked to the other end of my small room, severing our heated tie, or maybe stretching it, because I believed that tie to be unbreakable. Stretched and weakened, but never broken.
My body
