Cole

  annoying. It wasn’t like we were in the early stages of a relationship, where it was fun and exciting and everything left me breathless. That was not this, no way.

  But I couldn’t ignore the fluttering inside as I crossed the room and hit the voice button. “Who is it?”

  I didn’t check the camera because I knew. I’d tried telling myself it was probably Sia. She forgot something. She wanted to check on me. She wanted to apologize again for standing me up, but my body knew. There was nothing holding back the butterflies in my stomach. They were flitting around, worked up about an impending storm.

  “It’s me.”

  It was Cole, and everything clicked in place inside of me. It was like my intuition was laughing at me, Told you. My body knew it was him before I’d even stood from the couch, and now that I heard confirmation, my nerves had settled.

  There was a weariness in his voice when he asked, “Can I come up?”

  I hit the button allowing him access, already frowning, already wanting to know what was wrong. Then I jerked to the hallway mirror. I looked ridiculous. I was trying to smooth my hair back when the sounds of the elevator sunk in. It was coming from above, not rising from below.

  Then the doors slid open, and any questions evaporated at the sight of him.

  Bags were under his eyes. Dark smudges covered his face like he’d run his hand over it and left trails of dirt. His black sweatshirt reminded me of the first time I’d seen him on the running track, and he wore black athletic pants. Both molded to his frame in the right places, outlining his leanness, but I couldn’t look away from the pained expression in his eyes.

  “What happened?”

  He shook his head, stepping inside. He didn’t answer, just pulled me to him and rested his forehead in the crook of my neck and shoulder. I stood for a second, just holding him. He remained long after the elevator doors had closed again. I waited, unsure what to say, but I knew this embrace was for comfort, nothing more. He needed me in the truest way; he needed a friend.

  He smelled of smoke and a faint tease of sweat, like he’d been running before he got here. They weren’t overwhelming scents, just clinging to him in a nice way.

  After another few seconds, I pulled back. His gaze was hooded. I rested a hand to the side of his face. “What happened to you?”

  He shook his head, pulling completely away. “I can’t tell you.”

  There it was. Again.

  “Of course.”

  He shot me a look, but didn’t say anything.

  I turned to the kitchen. “Do you want a drink?”

  “God, yes.”

  I could hear how tired he was, and a part of me ached for him. “Tequila? Rum? Something harder?”

  He’d gone to the couch, laying his head on the back. He rolled it to look at me. “Whiskey?”

  My heart leapt for a brief moment, and I had to pause. It felt right to have him there, sitting on my couch, waiting for me. I reached for the closest bottle, and my hands gripped it tightly, like I needed something to hold on to. That shouldn’t be happening, the sensation of him being at home, like a piece of the puzzle had been put in place to complete the picture.

  I felt a lump form at the bottom of my throat, but I asked around it, my voice hoarse, “You want to burn tonight?”

  “It’s better than what I’m feeling right now.”

  Instead of one glass, I pulled out two, and I pushed my wine aside. Whatever had happened, it was heavy. I went over and settled on the couch beside him, the bottle and two glasses in hand.

  “Thank you.” His voice was soft.

  He sat up and took the bottle and glasses from me, placing them on the coffee table. He poured for both of us. The liquid covered the bottom third of the glass, and after a good whiff, it cleared my nose right up.

  “You’re right. This is going to be painful.”

  He gave me a sideways grin. “I know why I’m drinking. Why are you?”

  “You’re not the only one with ghosts.”

  I didn’t wait for his reaction. I closed my eyes and threw it back, hissing as I felt the burn in my throat. Damn. I wanted another. I held the glass out. Cole took it, his soft chuckle blanketing me as he poured another shot.

  He downed his, then leaned back to sip the next glass. He had no reaction when he drank. Nothing. I watched him, but the dullness in his eyes never lifted. He didn’t wince. It could’ve been water.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t call earlier, but things got away from me, and…” He hesitated before saying, “I lost a friend today. That’s where I’ve been, taking care of…” Another hesitation. “Things for him.”

  He wanted to say more. I could feel it, but he couldn’t. I sat back beside him, my knees pulled up, and I clutched my glass in front of me.

  “A close friend?” Was that why Ken was gone from the office below? Did he know this person, too? Was that why Dorian hadn’t been happy both times I saw him?

  He nodded.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “No, I’m sorry.” He finished the rest of his second drink, wincing slightly. “It’s hard to not say anything to you. What I do…”

  I waited. I’d been waiting since I first saw him.

  “What I do is dangerous. That’s why I can’t tell you, at least not yet. I know it’s not fair.” He waved around my living room. “I show up here, and you’re supposed to comfort me without knowing anything? It’s unfair of me, but I didn’t want to go anywhere else. This felt right.” He looked up, his eyes boring into me. “Coming to you felt right.”

  I couldn’t look away from him, nor did I want to. I held tight to the glass in my hand, and I said the only thing I was thinking at that moment. “I’m glad you came.”

  “Thank you.” His hand rested on my leg.

  His hand seared through my thin silk pants. I had changed into something soft and comfortable when I got back. I was now aware of just how thin the cloth was, and that I was only wearing a tank top, one that was loose but showing too much. I wasn’t self-conscious, but my body was already yearning for him. It wasn’t a live flame, like it had been last night, but a slow broil. It was there. It was heating up, but it was containable.

  I glanced down at my glass. “You’re here. You’re hurting, and normally, I would ask what happened, and you’d tell me. We could go from there, but that’s not the case. And I’m…I’m at a loss for what to say.”

  He cleared his throat. “You mentioned a husband?”

  I looked back up. His eyes were sparkling from the moonlight behind me. The rest of his face was shadowed.

  “Liam. Yeah. He died.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m sorry about your friend.”

  Another moment of silence. Cole began running one finger up and down my leg, moving over my thigh. “He was loyal. I’ve had people, people who should be loyal to me, plot against me. He was one of the good ones.”

  “Did you know him long?”

  His gaze was on me, weighing before he answered. “I guess so. I knew him when I was younger. Then I went away and didn’t know anyone from my old life. That changed a year ago. He’s been by my side since.”

  “Was Dorian close to him?”

  Cole nodded. “Ken knew him, too.”

  I grinned. “I thought I was the only one to call him Ken.”

  “No.” Cole smiled. “Some people call him Kenny even.”

  “He wasn’t downstairs tonight.”

  “He was with me. I was telling him about—” Cole hesitated. “—about our friend.”

  So he knew Dorian and Ken, though that wasn’t news to me. It was just confirmation. Whether Cole lived upstairs or Dorian did, he was connected to the owner of this building. There were so many secrets around him. I didn’t want to become one of them myself, but as he looked away and I studied his side profile, I had a feeling I already was.

  I reached forward and took his hand, linking our fingers together. “I used to sit and hold Liam’s hand like
this.”

  Cole gazed down at our hands, but he didn’t say anything.

  The air was so damn thick. I was about to make it even heavier.

  “I know you can’t say anything, but maybe I can? I can tell you about me, and someday you’ll tell me about you?”

  I felt his gaze on me, but I didn’t look. I didn’t dare, or I’d lose my courage. Speaking about Liam was hard enough, but saying it to Cole, I felt ice moving through my veins. I forced myself to speak, knowing it was good to air some of this out, even just for myself.

  “My family lives far away, so when Liam and I moved here, he became my family. He didn’t get along with the rest of his family. His mom didn’t like me, and his dad was just…absent. I guess that’s the best way to describe him. His sister hated him, and he had another brother I never met. He never came home, not even for Liam’s funeral. I don’t know what I’m really saying here, but when Liam died, I died, too. Or it felt like it. Sia’s been wonderful to me, but right now, she’s four floors up with her new boyfriend, and I actually feel like he might be the one for her.” What was I saying? I was rambling.

  Cole squeezed my fingers lightly.

  I felt encouraged by that small pressure. “I guess I’m just saying you can trust me, even though this—” I gestured between us. “—is something I have no way to understand right now. And I’m not trying to pressure you. I just want to say…” I stopped talking, feeling my eyes well up as I stared at our linked hands. “I’m a mess. I didn’t mean to make things awkward between us. This is stupid. I was just trying to say I liked that we could hold hands. That was it—”

  “Addison,” he murmured.

  “What?” I looked up.

  “Shut up.” Then his mouth was on mine, and he lifted me onto his lap.

  I wanted to die again, but for a whole other reason.

  I woke to the feeling of kisses on my neck. There was no thought. I opened my eyes, saw Cole, and rolled to my back. We didn’t speak as he moved so he was above me. I rested my arms over his shoulders, looping my hands, and closed my eyes, just enjoying the feel of him. It wasn’t long before he reached for a condom and slid inside me.

  This was the way every morning should be: waking up to Cole inside of me. As he thrust in and slid out, over and over, I arched my back. Waves of pleasure rolled through me. His hand skimmed down my rib cage to cup my hip, and he used it as an anchor to go deeper.

  This man, who I knew little to nothing about, knew my body in a way only Liam had. This should’ve alarmed me—waking up to him in my bed should’ve alarmed me—but it did the opposite. I felt safe and protected. And when I felt him coming, I didn’t want it to end.

  Afterward, as both of us trembled, he breathed into my ear. “You’re bad for my work ethic.” A low chuckle sounded.

  “What do you mean?”

  He pulled out to lie on his side, facing me. He traced a finger down my side, leaving tingles in its wake. “I have to leave town because of Robbie’s death. The funeral will be somewhere else, and I have…” Again with the hesitation. “…There’s business to deal with. I might be gone a while.” His eyes raked over me, and he groaned and buried his face in my neck. “I don’t want to go.”

  I skimmed a hand down his bare back, enjoying the feel of his muscles. “But you have to.”

  He nodded. “I have to.”

  He spoke those words against my skin. I felt another rush go through me.

  “I’m sorry for you,” I told him.

  He pulled back, gazing down at me. His eyes clouded.

  I pulled my hand against my chest. “I mean the funeral. You’ll have to go through all of that.” I remembered Liam’s. “Trust me, it’s going to suck.”

  The cloud disappeared. A new emotion lurked there—one I couldn’t name.

  “Funerals always suck,” he said, almost roughly. He rolled in one smooth movement to sit on the edge of the bed. I sat up with him, pulling the sheet to cover my breasts. He glanced over his shoulder. “I’ve been to too damn many of them. You?”

  “Liam’s.”

  The corners of his mouth turned down. “Hey, I didn’t say it last night, but thank you for telling me a little about him. Your husband.”

  My throat swelled up. “Yeah.”

  “I lost my family when I was little.”

  I lifted my head.

  “I know what it’s like to lose your family.” His hand covered mine on the bed between us. “I’m an ass—coming in, sleeping with you, and not telling you much about me.”

  I laughed. “Trust me, I’ve asked myself more than a few times what the hell we’re doing. But you came back.” I clutched the sheet tighter and shrugged. “And here we are. Again.”

  “You’re okay with this?”

  “I…It is what it is.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Go to your funeral.” I scooted forward and pressed a soft kiss to the back of his shoulder. “Bury your friend, and then come back to me. Maybe we can figure it out more then.”

  “I like that idea.” His eyes darkened as I pulled away. Another time, another day, and we would’ve lain back down in that bed—when he didn’t have to bury a loved one.

  Cole dressed, and I stayed in bed, content to just listen to him moving around. I closed my eyes at one point. It was nice to hear another person in my home, one I knew was alive. I hadn’t realized how the emptiness had bothered me, but that wasn’t why I’d allowed Cole into my bed. Why I was doing that, I wasn’t thinking about. He came over, and I wanted this. Every time. I knew I’d be waiting for the next time he rang my elevator. I’d let him up, and it wouldn’t matter whether he gave me answers or not. Maybe I was a fool, or maybe I was at a place in my life where I didn’t need to care. I was ready to just be.

  I’d think later. I’d worry later. Right now, I’d just feel.

  He came back to leave a lingering kiss on my lips and another on my forehead before he left. “I have your number,” he said as he turned away. “I’ll text you from the plane.”

  A moment later, I heard the elevator going up.

  Two weeks went by.

  It was fun at first. We texted each other. He sent a picture from an airplane seat—another tidbit he let slip. I wasn’t a world traveler, but I’d been inside enough regular airplanes to recognize a private airplane when I saw one.

  The texts started off flirty: What was I wearing? How tight was his suit? How lonely were my nights? I reciprocated, asking if he’d found a new “friend” to replace me. I’d thought the text was teasing, but as soon as I hit send, I realized I meant it.

  Cole was gorgeous. He could have his pick of women. Why had he picked me?

  The question plagued me, and I immediately heard Sia’s screech in my mind. If she’d heard my question, she would’ve corrected me. He didn’t pick me. He got lucky with me. Men weren’t the hunters in her life. They were her prey. I also felt a stab of guilt that I was still keeping my involvement with Cole a secret from her. I wasn’t ready to say anything, though. Plus, it’d been two nights. That didn’t constitute something to talk about, yet. She would’ve had questions. Who was he? What did he do? How serious were we? What was I feeling about the relationship? All solid questions, but no solid answers. I couldn’t reply to any of them, especially the one about how I was feeling about whatever it was between Cole and me.

  I had no idea.

  I liked him. I got excited about him. He made me feel alive. He put my blood on a constant simmer, where it could flame up and boil at any moment. That was how our two nights had been. I’d felt alive, but I was starting to go through withdrawals. He was like a drug. One hit and I was addicted, or close to it. Maybe a few hits? Who was I trying to kid? I was completely addicted and going through detox, but it was a detox I hadn’t signed up for.

  When was he coming back?

  That thought ran through my head a few times a day, and every time it did, I felt foolish. I was a mature woman. I wasn’t a young