I wasn’t that girl any longer though, that thirteen-year-old that went to war with food every second of every day—years of counselling, some stints in eating disorder clinics and the support of my grandparents helped me overcome the battle that nearly killed me. Now, I was finally free from the death grip anorexia had on me, gainfully employed in a job I loved more than I thought possible, and had a circle of good friends.
The only black cloud hovering over me was in the form of my two-year crush.
Cole Stephens.
Before my idiotic move five days ago, that was all Cole had been for me.
A crush.
Now, that was multiplied by a thousand and all because I was in the wrong place at the right time. Who would have thought walking innocently down a hallway would put me in Cole’s bed? And a world of hurt and humiliation.
Damn, I could still feel the burn in my thighs and calves and still had the bruises on my hips, if not a little faint now, from Cole’s long, strong fingers holding me down on him. My back still tingled from his wet kisses he pressed there, his voice so deep when he called me his Temptress. We went at it all night, he licked and sucked every part of my body, left it covered in whisker burn and love bites. I left a few of them on him myself, and his poor back had to be covered in crescent, moon-shaped marks from my nails. God knows I clawed wantonly at his back, begging him to go deeper, not to stop fucking me.
Ahhhhh, Oaklee, what the hell had you been thinking? I chastised myself silently. When Cole came stumbling down that hall, I should have sidestepped him, gone another way, or ignored him. But did I? Nope, instead I asked if he was okay. Then when he replied with fuck no, I should have gone in search of the guys in his team, rather than asking him if there was something I could do to help.
My help came in not quite the form I anticipated, rather it left me with a mixed bag of emotions. Emotions I was yet to get a handle on obviously.
Of course, I didn’t expect him to answer the way he did. In my defence, when the object of your dreams says he needs to forget, needs just a moment in time where the demons piss off, the offer I made him I truly didn’t think for a second was one he would take.
Did I really say what I said to him? Did the words—how about me, Cole? Why not get lost in me for a while?—really come out of my mouth?
Yep! They did. Cole looked down at me, his black eyes disturbed, and looking back now, I don’t think he was even seeing me. Not Oaklee, his mum’s assistant, there was something disturbing and troubling in the depths of those onyx orbs, something I knew nothing about. Then he did something that changed me forever. Cole Stephens pushed his huge muscular body into mine, his intense and guarded face so close to mine, and I memorised every laugh line, every nick every inch of stubble covering his strong jaw.
“Make me forget, Temptress. Make me feel something other than loss and destruction.”
The way he’d spoken, the sad and almost desperate quality to his voice, called to me like a beacon. The fixer inside me wanted to do exactly that, show him more than what he was hiding behind those black eyes.
The nickname he gave me made no sense at the time, just like when I called him Rambo. I had no clue where that came from; I mean, I have seen the movies, enjoyed them, and found Sly quite a hunk, but using the name in bed? Weird and so not me.
Thinking back, I did kind of temp Cole that night. His pain from losing his mate was evident when he and the others returned to the compound. Memphis told me that Deke had been killed in action, but had not gone into further detail. The Club kept business close to their chests, not that I expected to be told any more than that.
I watched him like I always did, from the shadows and far away unnoticed by him, drinking at the bar getting drunk. He sat alone most of the time, only joining in when one of his mates forced him to, not speaking or adding his best memories of Deke. I don’t know how long I stood in my hiding spot staring at Cole, reading his facial ticks, trying to figure out what they meant—memorising his body language, studying to see if he had any tells. Anything to get more insight into the man I was completely obsessed with.
My thoughts of wondering if he was ever going to talk to me got blown straight out of the water when he lifted me and pushed me against the wall and devoured my lips. If I was being honest, our only words at the time were ones laced with dirty desires. He never mentioned me by name, only the endearment he gave me. A feeling of foreboding trickled down my spine, thinking about that. Cole knew it had been me in his arms all night, right? We made love all night, reaching for each other after only minutes of rest in-between bouts.
Oh god, the man’s mouth brought me to orgasm so many times, and I let him. I let him, in the darkness of his room, take me to sexual heights I never dreamed existed. Granted at nearly twenty-three, I had not had a tonne of experience with men, mostly due to my own issues, but I wasn’t a virgin. Orgasm was in my vocabulary, and I enjoyed having them, and I most definitely enjoyed Cole giving
