Part 11 (1/2)

As soon as the door clicks shut behind her, I have her in my arms, my hands in her hair. I kiss her hard, and she whimpers against me, her arms tightening around my neck as I consume her.

Her lips are faintly salty, like she's been crying. That rips me up inside. I did this to her.

She kisses me back as we desperately hold on to each other. It's a long time before we break apart. Her lips are swollen and wet. My chest aches. We're a mess, and I'm more settled than I've been in hours. I never want to let her out of my arms.

”I'm glad you're not in jail,” she whispers, hugging me tight for a second before pressing her hands against my chest.

I don't let her go. ”You shouldn't be here,” I mutter against her lips. ”Someone might see you.”

”I drove and parked underground. I needed to tell you that I'll talk to the cops.”

”No.”

”Yeah, I heard you say that to the other guys.” Her body tightens inside my arms as she says it.

”You heard some s.h.i.+t out of context.”

She sighs. ”I'm not sure there's enough context to make me understand your life.”

What the f.u.c.k? ”It's not my life, it's my job.”

Another sigh. She tips her forehead against my shoulder. ”No, what I do is a job. Working at McDonald's is a job. Leaving my bed in the middle of the night and getting arrested for murder...that has to be more than a job or you shouldn't do it.”

That had been the wrong word choice, but I can't explain the difference to her. I focus on what I can say. ”I didn't want to leave your bed.”

She tenses again, pressing her hands against my chest. Trying to push me way. Not going to f.u.c.king happen. I lean into her, over her, moving her back the few inches until she's pressed against my door. I grab her hands and press her arms over her head. She glares up at me as I dip my head to kiss her again.

”What? You don't believe me?”

She gapes at me for a moment. ”I don't know what to believe,” she finally says, her voice strangled.

f.u.c.k.

I'm not going to hold her against the door-kiss her, f.u.c.k her, make her scream-if she doesn't trust me.

I drop her hands and take a giant step back, my brain scrambling to catch up to the strange feelings coursing through me-possession and fear, yes, but also something else.

Something dangerous. Something I can't name.

-three-.

Hailey.

Cole steps back from me, his expression shuttered and his body tense.

I've made a misstep, I can sense it in the air.

I go for a flippant response, even though it feels wrong as I say it.

”You know, for someone who's become famous for being able to talk rich people out of almost any kind of trouble, you're not doing a good job of it for yourself.” I wave my hand at his face. ”Pull your s.h.i.+t together, Cole.”

Like a cat, he moves fast and without warning. He grabs my waving wrist again, and we stand there. Me, in shock, him...I'm not sure. He takes another step back into my personal s.p.a.ce, and his other hand slides around my hip, twisting me until my front is pressed against the door. It's not a slam, per se, because it doesn't hurt, but he's holding me there. I suck in a breath and hold it, not sure what the h.e.l.l is going on. I'm not scared, but I'm something. Full of feels, Alison would say.

”I'll pull my s.h.i.+t together before we leave this office.” He spits the words out between gritted teeth, and it should be off-putting, this ridiculous testosterone dump. It is off-putting to my head. Much lower in my body, I'm consumed by a strange sensation to arch into him and make him feel better.

I start laughing at the absurdity of the notion that s.e.x would help. He'd been arrested. Lawyers make that better, not f.u.c.king. I sigh and twist my head to catch his gaze. ”What are you doing? Why did you drag me back here?”

”Stop talking, Hailey.” A thrill runs through me at the sound of my name on his tongue and the look in his eye. He loosens his grip, leaning his forearm on the door next to my head, his fingers just loosely circling my arm now. His thumb rubs back and forth over the pulse point on the inside of my wrist, making my skin tingle in a strangely soothing way. ”I'm not doing anything.”

I let out the breath I was holding, and it rattles between us in a shaky exhale. ”Then...maybe you should let me go.” I pull my hand free from his grasp and turn to face him. I press my palm against his chest. Even vibrating with tension, touching him feels good. Right. Even as I shove against him, pus.h.i.+ng him out of my way, I relish the contact. He lets me s.h.i.+ft him out of the way. ”Whatever is on your mind...just say it.”

He turns his back to me, staring intently at something on his desk. ”Now's not the time.”

I glare at his rigid spine until my eyes burn, which doesn't take long, then I glance down. There's a big coffee stain on his carpet, I notice randomly. He should have that steam-cleaned.

Three deep breaths, and I look up. He's turned back, and whatever that little outburst was all about seems locked down again. Maybe. Barely.

We stare at each other for a minute. I should tell him more. Tell him that I know he's a good man, deep down, and that I trust him.

But I'm not sure I do. The fear inside me is a sharp, stabbing pain. It feels wrong to doubt him, but within hours of sleeping together, he dragged me perilously close to the edge of scandal.

Not on purpose. I close my eyes, not wanting to see how he clenches his jaw and guards his gaze as he takes in my silence.

From the second he saw me, I've known Cole is p.i.s.sed I'm here. But then he kissed me, and for a second I thought it might work out somehow.

”I didn't want to leave your bed,” he repeats his earlier statement, his voice rough and raw.

My eyes snap open. ”But you did.”

”It's what I do. I fix s.h.i.+t. Sometimes that means I leave in the middle of the night.”

”And get arrested?”

He shrugs like it's no big deal.

I shrug right back, my eyes narrowing because it's totally a big deal. ”Now I'm your alibi for last night, aren't I?”

He snaps to his full height and glares at me. ”n.o.body needs to know that. I would never drag you into this s.h.i.+t.”

”You don't think anyone's going to find out you're sleeping with Morgan Reid's daughter? You think you're the only team who can hack into digital data streams?” My voice lifts as I wave my arm over my head in Wilson's general direction. ”The cops-”

”Don't have the budget for someone like Wilson. And n.o.body else cares. We care because we want to find out who killed Anabeth Fletcher.”

I close my eyes at the name of the poor woman who died.

”We weren't...She and I...” he trails off, and I stare at him, incredulous.