Page 46 of Ice Cold Heart
My muscles were all languid and floppy like I’d been at a spa all night. I wasn’t sure I’d ever been as relaxed as I’d been ten seconds ago. I didn’t remember him coming back last night, but clearly, at some point I’d fallen asleep. Then at some later point, he’d also fallen asleep. In the same bed. Mostly naked.
He wasn’t all the way naked because I had one leg hooked over his hip, and I could feel cotton under my thigh. Heat tore through me as I realized what else I could feel. Cole was hard underneath me. I eased my leg away, trying not to jostle him, and took stock of the rest of my limbs.
One arm tucked between us, one resting on his chest with his hand wrapped around mine. I was mostly on top of him, curled around his ribcage with my head on his shoulder, and he held me in place with an arm around my waist. His hand splayed over my bare ass.
Had I known how I’d wake up, I would have put more of an effort into finding my panties last night.
The flickers of outrage tried to take root, but I couldn’t fault Cole for wanting to sleep in his own bed. I couldn’t fault him for asking me to stay and keep his sweet duck company. I couldn’t fault him for my choice to eschew my jeans and crawl between his sheets. This decision was all on me.
Sunlight flooded the room. Not the pale pre-dawn stuff either. Full on morning sunlight. I’d spent the night with Cole, after he’d given me the best orgasms of my life then peaced out.
Low-key panic started to build into legit fight or flight. I needed to move. I couldn’t let Cole wake up and see us cuddled together like a normal, functioning couple—even if the image was stuck in the back of my mind taunting me with the possibilities.
Carefully, I sat up, letting his arm drop to the mattress. With slow movements, I scooted to the edge of the bed and climbed down. I’d done a cursory search for my clothes last night after I’d washed my face, but I’d quickly given up. After Cole’s enthusiastic performance, I didn’t think he’d mind if I napped commando in his bed.
With the full light of day, I found my pants easily enough, but my undies were still missing. Where the fuck were they? I got on my hands and knees, searching Cole’s floor. My pants had been crumpled in an inside out heap next to the door, but my panties hadn’t been anywhere near them last night.
I peeked at Cole, asleep on his back with his impressive chest and shoulders on display above the messy blankets. Nothing but bare golden skin all the way down to the sheet. How was he so tan in the middle of winter?
His back muscles flexed as he rolled, reaching for the place I’d been laying, and I watched transfixed. He’d given me several fantastic orgasms last night, he’d basically seen me naked considering the disarray of my shirt when he’d left, and the urge to join him again twisted inside me.
I could hit the bathroom and dive back under the covers, curl up with his arms around me. Sleep. I could sleep, without all the bullshit from the past few months haunting me because last night had been glorious.
Cole made a deep, rumbling noise, and I bit my lip to keep from moaning at the instant clench of my inner muscles. Damn. One night and I was one of Pavlov’s dogs. See, this was why my deal with Cole was a bad idea.
I’d gotten what I wanted, and I was already addicted. Cole mumbled something, and I left before I made another destructive decision. I steeled myself against the temptation and pulled my pants on without underwear. Cole could keep them as a souvenir.
He would hate my decision, but I wouldn’t be back. No more orgasms or reading snuggled together on the couch. We could meet at the library like any other tutoring session. He’d still get his end of the deal, and I’d be able to rebuild my walls.
Nothing about the current situation said casual, and I couldn’t handle another force trying to control my life. Not so soon after I’d finally freed myself. I didn’t think about his roommates or what it would look like with me sneaking out of his room, but thankfully, the hallway was empty.
My luck held as I tiptoed down the stairs. No one on the main floor either. I scooped up my shoes and jogged to my car in my socks. Mrs. Lipnicki must have had a late night as well because her house was just as quiet as Cole’s.
The drive home was short, but I spent the entire time coming up with a series of excuses for where I’d been. Mom would have claimed I was being inconsiderate to her for staying out all night, as if she’d been worried. More likely she wanted my attention for something, and I wasn’t conveniently in my room. The scenario had played out more than once.
Dad was a wild card. In the couple of weeks I’d been living with him, we hadn’t spent much time together. My preparations were wasted though. Dad’s car was gone when I pulled into the driveway.
My relief mixed with disappointment, which made no sense. Why would I be disappointed he hadn’t been home to interrogate me? I already knew my welfare wasn’t high on his priority list.
I tossed my bag on the couch and raided the fridge for a snack. Only once I’d eaten and taken a shower did I let myself think about Cole and the events of last night—of my decision. I’d wanted to stay. Even before he’d asked, I’d wanted to stay.
This morning, the feeling had been a hundred times stronger. I sat cross-legged on my bed with my computer in my lap and tried to untangle the mess of my emotions. Scott, and the couple of boyfriends before him, had never elicited the tug at the center of my chest I felt when I watched Cole reach for me.
He was the one I wanted to call when I had a good day and the one I wanted to text when I was lonely at night. When Marco made a joke in the office, Cole was the one I wanted to share it with.
Fuck. I was already in too deep.
To remind myself what happened when I let my guard down, I pulled up the article I’d written exposing Scott’s cheating, both academic and sexual. It was some of my best work, and part of me was pissed I’d had to submit it with an anonymous byline. As far as I knew, my mom had gotten off without so much as a slap on the wrist. The university didn’t give a shit who was fucking who, but they cared a great deal when someone was passing off stolen work in their classes.
No going back. No showing weakness. I was going to put Easton behind me and finish my degree at TU without letting a sexy, charming hockey player distract me from my goals. I’d already submitted my first couple of articles to Seb, but I was holding one in reserve.
With a few clicks, I pulled up the outline I’d started the day I’d learned about the open editor spot next year. The article sketched an image of a hockey coach who cared about winning at any cost, including skirting the academic standards for his players.
And abandoning his daughter.
I sat with my fingers poised over the keys, but no words came. An image of him talking to Marco with kindness and respect lodged in my mind and refused to budge. Seb would love a juicy exposé, but I wasn’t a tabloid reporter. Disgusted, I closed my laptop and set it aside.
The front door slammed closed downstairs, and I seriously considered simply going back to bed. Except my bed wasn’t the one I wanted. If I was smart, I’d call Marco and convince him to come and distract me from my own destructive tendencies.