His whole body vibrated. Heat and frustration and unbridled energy. “Stay with me tonight.”
“Cole.”
“I fucking need you, Natalie.” His voice broke. “Give me this one night.” His lips dusted mine, soft and unsure.
“Why?”
“You know why.”
I knew. Because whatever cruel twist of fate we’d befallen, he was cursed, the same as I. Our connection, the attraction, made no sense. The timing was always off. The pull, though, that was undeniable, otherworldly, and yes, at times sinful. But I knew, the same as Cole, that we were something, and our relationship, whether good or bad, friend or foe, hot or cold, was very extraordinary.
One more night would break my heart a thousand times over.
One more night might be all I’d ever get of Cole Adams.
I rose from my chair, took his hand, and led him to my car.
Cole slammed the SUV into park. Ran to my side, opened the door, and helped me out, his grip tight, as if afraid I would run.
I stared at the CFC painted on the window. “You’re staying in the gym?”
“I have an apartment above the gym.” Cole pushed open the door, waited for me to enter, then locked up behind us. “Can’t stand being in that house,” he mumbled before leading me upstairs, then past his office to a small apartment.
His living space was small but clean. Too sterile. Exposed brick and beams. A small, open kitchen was tucked in the corner. Large arch windows. One small couch and a large screen television. To my left, an open barn door exposed a small room, the unmade bed the only clue that someone lived there. No art, no life, only empty space full of potential.
Silence stretched, anticipation and hesitation crackling the air between us, my fingers itching to touch, my body primed. My heart guarded.
“Mona said on stage that you were a new, but dear, friend.”
“True.” He loosened his tie. Tugged the silk off his neck.
“When did that happen?” I stood still, waiting for his cue.
“When you left,” he said, dropping his tie, wetting his lips.
“I don’t understand.”
“I don’t either.” He stepped close enough to kiss me. “All I know is that when I’m there, I feel closer to you.”
“Why can’t you go home?” I asked, lifting my face to study his sad expression.
“Too many memories.”
I nodded.
“Not just of her, but Martin, too. He helped me buy that house. We remodeled the kitchen together. Now, when I’m there, I want to take a bat to the place.”
“I get it.”
“I don’t think you do.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t be here. God, you’re still grieving. I should’ve known better.”
A huff. “Don’t leave.”
“Cole, I—”
Warm hands cupped my cheeks. Cole stared down at me, heated and pleading. “No more. I don’t want them in my head when you’re here.”
He claimed my mouth in a kiss both punishing and desperate, his full body trembling against mine. Finally.
His fingers tangled in my hair. I gripped his shirt in tight fists, my body heating and softening, aching for his possession.
Fucking my mouth with his tongue, he lifted the hem of my skirt, grabbed my ass, and yanked me tighter against his erection.
I moaned.
Cole shivered.
My back hit the wall. He slapped a hand above my head and rolled his hips, grinding against me, adding fuel to the flame and, oh, God, I was lit. Fire in my belly. Skin fevered. Heart burned to ash.
“Jesus. Fuck,” he mumbled into my mouth.
A grunt, and he was on his knees. My panties were gone, and my skirt was bunched around my waist. Rushed kisses peppered my abdomen before he moved lower, digging fingers into my thighs and going straight for the kill, sucking my clit like his life depended on making me come. Like he didn’t have time for any other nonsense, his sole purpose to kneel at my feet and worship my body. He sucked and licked and sucked again before plunging a finger between my folds. I came hard, grinding against his face, my back scraping against the brick wall.
Before I could recover, he rushed me to the bed. A mad scramble to remove our clothes. A frantic rush to roll on a condom.
Too damn long before he filled me, hot, hard, perfect. Sweet Lord, the man was everything.
He moved, I moaned. He kissed, I cried. He pounded me into the mattress, and I clung tight, absorbing his anger, his pain, his grief, his feral energy.
He growled his release into my neck, then collapsed at my side, caging me with heavy limbs.
My body was spent. My heart demanded more, more, more.
We fucked again in the shower.
By the third time, my body ached and my heart bled. We hadn’t made love. Cole had purged while I had comforted.
Sad thing? I wasn’t upset. He needed release. I needed…him. Any broken, bloody part he offered.
Cole tucked a leg between mine and buried his face in my hair, his arm draping over my ribs, his cock thickening against my backside.
“Don’t leave, Natalie.”
“I’ll be back for Thanksgiving.”
“Tell me where you live.” He laced our fingers and squeezed. “I’ll visit on the weekends.”
“Cole. Listen.”
“Don’t.” He rolled to his back, leaving me cold. “Don’t give me the fucking speech.”
I stared at the empty brick wall, hating what came next. “You’re grieving. You’re unsettled. I’ve just started a new job in a different state.”
“I’ve lost you, haven’t I?” Such venom in his voice.
I rolled over but didn’t touch. I couldn’t touch and hold my ground. “I don’t want that. I don’t want us to be strangers, but I don’t see how we can be more than… God, I don’t even know what we are.”
“A hot fucking mess.” Cole shoved the sheet off his body and sat up, dropping his feet to the floor. “Doomed from day one.”
Our time had come to an end. I slid out of bed, hunted for my clothes. “I’ll be home for the holidays. Can I
