Part 16 (2/2)

I should leave, too. Instead, I log into my computer and pull up the video feed of Hailey's apartment. We have cameras on the front entrance and her door. I choose the latter and hit rewind. Two hours back, I see Hailey and Alison leaving together. I immediately flip to the front door camera and time synch the feeds, to get a clue as to where they're going, but Hailey just waits for a town car to pull up for Alison, hugs her goodbye, then heads back inside. I watch her climb the stairs, and if she just locked herself into her apartment, I'd have powered down and gone home.

Instead, she stops on the landing outside her apartment, her hand on the handle, and looks up at the camera.

The look on her face-tight, drawn, sad-destroys me.

And I head for the door.

-nine-.

Hailey.

It takes me a minute to realize why I've woken up. It was the creak of the front door that did it, or maybe the beep of the alarm system as he turned it off. I'm not sure, because my first fully conscious observation of the apartment is total silence.

What the h.e.l.l just woke me up?

Then I hear footsteps.

He's not trying to be quiet, not really. I have no doubt, if he wanted to be quiet, I wouldn't know he was here until he was on top of me. I s.h.i.+ver against my will, hating how much that excites me.

”Get out.” I want him here, like crazy, but all of a sudden, the emotions of the last few weeks crash inside me and I'm angry at him. p.i.s.sed that it took him so long to come. That it's in the middle of the night and I know he'll be gone again before dawn.

Livid that we both need this to keep going.

He pauses in the doorway for a second before prowling closer. ”I'm not here.”

”And yet obviously...” I sigh as he steps into the moonlight streaming through my window. G.o.d, he looks good. Rumpled. Tired. But hard as f.u.c.k and sizzling with energy. I want to touch him all over, absorb that intensity and sooth the raging beast inside him. My reaction isn't selfless, though-not at all.

While we were apart, I could pretend I was getting over him. Now he's here, and my chest hurts at how much I need him. Emotionally and physically. I press my thighs together, a futile effort against the instant ache he creates inside me.

”In the morning you can pretend this was just a dream. Or a nightmare.”

I shake my head. ”Never that. But will this just torture us more? Because tomorrow you'll be gone again, and we'll start this cycle all over.”

His eyes glitter in the dark, his teeth flas.h.i.+ng white as he grimaces. ”Wilson told me about the interview. Is your sister okay? Are you okay?”

”Seriously? You break into my apartment to ask me if I'm fine?” I'm shaking with relief that he's finally come to me, and angry that it took so long. And I'm still pus.h.i.+ng him away. ”I don't know what kind of monster my father really is-I won't be surprised if it turns out he's the worst kind-but he never hurt us like that. Thank G.o.d.”

”I'm sorry anyway.”

”Why? It has nothing to do with me.” I p.r.i.c.kle at the conversation. I don't want to talk. I want to touch and hold and bite and cry from pleasure, but I don't want to talk anymore.

”You found out some s.h.i.+tty f.u.c.king news today. That kind of thing can mess with your head.”

He would know, I'm sure. The last s.h.i.+tty news he got nearly landed him in jail. Which reminds me... ”I'm not your problem anymore, Cole. Remember? I never was, not really.”

”You don't think you're my problem?” He slides out of his jacket and unb.u.t.tons his s.h.i.+rt. ”You don't get to decide that for me. You can push me away and tell yourself that I'm not your problem. That's fine.” He strides toward me, and I'm so glad my drapes are open and we have a full moon tonight. Cole stripped down to just dress pants, his thick, muscled torso twisting in the moonlight is the prettiest thing I've ever seen. He climbs on top of me and shoves the blankets out of the way. ”But you are mine. My problem, my concern, my f.u.c.king constant worry because I'm not good enough to be in your bed and at your side, keeping you safe.”

His words are heavy and sharp, and they land on me like that, but they don't hurt. I can feel them, though, pointy and meaningful, and if I fight against them...that hurts. A part of me wants to relax, and let him slide closer. Slide inside me the way he's said I'm deep in him already.

He's already there. And it's too much, so I'm in denial.

”This is crazy.” When he's this close, I can't remember all the reasons we shouldn't be together. All I can feel is how right it is when he's touching me. How perfect it will be when he thrusts himself inside me and claims me the only way I'll let him. I'm wet. Ready. Swollen and aching and hot for him. Only him, spoiled for all others.

”No s.h.i.+t.” He rolls his face against mine, forehead to forehead, nose to nose...lips to lips. I whimper as he kisses me. I've missed him so much. Needed this so much. ”Good crazy or bad crazy?”

”Don't stop crazy,” I whisper, arching into his hands as they move over my body. He strips me out of the tiny sleep shorts and tank top I'm wearing. Was wearing, because now they're on the floor, along with the rest of his clothes.

”I'm sorry,” he mutters after grazing his teeth over my bottom lip. ”I should have called you. Tonight. Before. You deserve more than this.”

”No.” I shake my head. ”I'm not the princess you think I am. I won't pretend I'm happy about all the rest, but this is...fine. I'd rather have you in the middle of the night than not at all. Even when I'm upset with you...I want you.”

”G.o.d, I've missed you, Hailey.” He kisses me so hard it hurts. I wrap my arms around his neck. I want more.

”Shut up and f.u.c.k me, okay?” It's the wrong thing to say. It's flippant and dirty, and he deserves to know I feel the same way. I missed you, too, I say in my head. But I when I open my mouth, no words come out. So I kiss him back, then bite his chin on my way to his neck. His Adam's apple bobs under my tongue as I lick him there, savoring the taste of his skin. ”I'm still on the pill. I'm such a good girl, I take it every day.”

”Jesus, I'm sorry about that.” But his c.o.c.k flexes against my inner thigh. Gotcha.

”Really? You didn't like being the only man who's ever been bare inside me?” He tightens all around me, and I throb for him everywhere-heavy, sensitive b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Wet between the legs. Hungry mouth. But this isn't quite right. ”You don't need to be sorry.” I drop my voice, dropping the act. Dropping everything, including the mask. ”I missed you, too. So much.”

Another growl, and he surges over me. For a second I think he's just going to drive his c.o.c.k into me, and G.o.d knows I'm wet enough, but he just rocks above me on all fours, stretching out this moment like it's made of bubble gum or something similarly nice and sweet and not at all the brittle, desperate desire threatening to crack inside me.

”You are not a good girl. You're a G.o.dd.a.m.n vixen.” He rakes his gaze down my body, writhing beneath him, and exhales slowly. With intent. Like that little bit of honesty was enough, and now we can play again.

I s.h.i.+ver again, impatient for more. ”Misrepresenting myself...that sounds punishment-worthy.”

He laughs and crawls back a few inches, dropping his face to my neck. His breath brushes against my skin. ”Is that what you think I should do? I come to you because I need you, and I think you need me, and you want me to spank you again?”

”You didn't really spank me the first time,” I say, panting, because yes, I want his hand print on my a.s.s. I want that sting, that sharp bite that fades into the most delicious warmth. I only got a taste of it, and I want more. ”Did you come here for something else?”

He skims his cheek over my collarbone and down my chest, inhaling deeply as he buries his face between my b.r.e.a.s.t.s. The scruff on his jaw tells me he hasn't shaved in a few days, and I never want him to shave. I want everything about Cole to have this edge-s.e.x with spanking, kisses with beard burn, and our words to never, ever have whatever softness is about to come out of his mouth.

Not just because I can't handle it-although the last time we were together kind of proves I can't. I'd fall for this man in a heartbeat. You've already fallen for him. Right. I've fallen for a man I can't have except between the hours of one and four in the morning every few weeks. And I can barely hang on to being cool with that, but I need to. So he can't be lovely. He just can't. It's not allowed.

Plus I like the bad boy thing. I didn't know I wanted it until I wanted him, and maybe I only want it because it's him.

But I don't want him ever thinking that I want him to dial back the dirty.

”Cole?”

He looks up at me, his mouth wet and his eyes glazed, and my stomach drops. He doesn't need to say anything, after all. A single look does it.

I shake my head. Please don't make this heavy. I can't say it out loud, because if he needs that, I'll give it to him.

I'll give him my heart even if it means tearing it out of my chest while it's still beating.

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