Page 36 of Ice Cold Heart
The last time I’d kissed him, I hadn’t known better. I had no such excuse now. Part of me had been hoping the time in the library was a fluke. The connection or whatever it was between us would fizzle out with repeated exposure. Instead, my heart beat wildly in my chest, thrumming in my wrists, at my neck, between my legs, all the points where I wanted his touch.
His thumb stroked my jawline, coming to rest under my chin to tilt my head up as he deepened the kiss. Bubbles rode my pulse like someone had dumped champagne in my blood. I clutched at his shirt, pulling myself closer as his arm tightened around me.
Cole explored my mouth, stoking the fire with a slow, purposeful seduction. His touch bordered on reverent, soft and gentle as he eased me into the heat. He lured me into lowering my guard, tossing my qualms aside, and simply enjoying his body against mine.
If he’d asked me to get naked, I would have dropped my pants in a second, but Cole eased away, resting his forehead against mine.
“Worth it,” he whispered.
I didn’t open my eyes for several beats, not until I was sure I wouldn’t beg him for more—not until he stepped away, taking his warmth with him. When I focused on him again, he was sitting on the couch with a cocky grin.
“What do you want to know?”
A smear of my red lipstick marred the edge of his smile, and the physical reminder of my badass armor helped me get my shit together. I wiped away the excess I could feel on my skin and sank down with my chin high.
“Let’s start with how long you’ve been playing hockey…” I skipped right over any acknowledgement of the kiss, and he followed right along. A small part of me was disappointed he’d pulled back, but the larger, more cowardly part applauded his restraint. That was the deal. One kiss, no repercussions—and one hundred percent a lie.
He let me cling to my almighty boundaries, but I knew. Deep down, I was going to kiss him again.
15
Cole stretched out on the couch next to me, replying to all my questions with thoughtful answers, while I took dutiful notes with the pen and paper I’d assumed I wouldn’t use. At some point, Henry joined us on the couch, and Cole made a blanket nest for her. Halfway through the questions I’d planned, I knew where I needed to focus my interview.
We breezed through his hockey playing youth and his motivations for coming to TU, but every time I mentioned his family, he tensed up. A good interviewer would circle the information, lulling him into a sense of comfort before digging for skeletons. Unfortunately, I was a mediocre interviewer. I wasn’t interested in digging for skeletons when I could still taste him every time I breathed.
In a non-professional capacity, I was burning up with curiosity. Why was this wholesome farm boy on edge about his family? I wanted to explore the snag, but we needed a change of scenery to jumpstart the conversation.
“Will you show me your room?”
He grinned as if I’d asked him to get naked and popped off the couch. “Definitely.”
When he extended a hand to help me up, I sent him a warning look. “For my article. I want to snoop through your stuff.”
“Snoop away. I don’t have anything to hide.” When I slid my palm against his, he hauled me off the couch and didn’t let go of my hand as he towed me up the stairs.
“That’s what they all say while hoarding their secrets,” I countered.
Cole scoffed. “City girl, you’re my only secret. Not everyone is out to get you.”
The stairs opened up to a hallway with four doors, two on each side, and a window at the far end. The closest room on the left was open, probably for duck reasons, but the rest were shut. On my immediate right, a much shorter hallway led to a bathroom. It was kind of a weird configuration for a suburban house, but I couldn’t say much. My dad’s house had two half-baths on the first floor.
Cole opened his door with a flourish and let me walk in ahead of him. “I had to come up here anyway before we started the tutoring portion of the evening. It’s not safe to leave stuff around the living room unless you want Henry to see if it’s edible. Spoiler alert: if she can reach it, it’s edible.”
“I didn’t realize ducks were so destructive,” I said absently as I took in his personal space.
He kept his room neat, not at all surprising, and he had the usual mismatched college furniture, a dresser, a desk, a bookshelf, a nightstand, and a huge-ass bed covered in a black comforter. Posters of hockey greats along with the Dallas and Denver NHL teams covered most of the walls. A TV sat on his dresser opposite the bed, but I ignored it to study his bookshelf. Several popular novels, mostly thrillers, mixed in with textbooks, all of it under a thick layer of dust.
“For a guy who doesn’t read, you have a lot of books.”
He shut the door and ambled over to frown at his untouched furniture. “My sister sends me books she thinks I might like every once in a while.”
I watched him carefully as I asked my next question. “Does she know about your reading problems?”
“Yes.” He didn’t elaborate or meet my gaze as he turned away to sit on his bed.
The English lit book we’d been working on lay next to a lamp on his bedside table, so I perched on the edge of the bed and reached for it, giving him the illusion of privacy. I absently flipped through the pages for a few seconds trying to decide on my next query.
“How did you get through your English classes in high school?”