Page 74 of The Plus One Professional
“No. You didn’t.”
He inhaled through his nose, then exhaled out his mouth. “Every Tuesday night, we went out for dinner. It started when we were in middle school. I would take her out for Taco Tuesdays for five bucks because of the one-dollar tacos, which was all I could afford on my paper boy salary.”
I smiled, thinking about Cole at twelve, taking out his girlfriend with the money he’d earned as a paperboy. It didn’t surprise me that he’d been responsible, even at that age. He just had this way about him—an innate sense of responsibility, like he was a born protector.
Cole continued, “It was a regular Tuesday, just like any other, and I showed up at her apartment, and her roommate, Georgie, told me she was gone. I said I’d wait, and she said it would be a while because she was in New York. I assumed she must have booked a job and had to fly at the last minute, but George told me that she wasn’t coming back. I went into her room, and sure enough, it was empty. She’d left for New York without even saying goodbye.”
“Wow. Just like Matt Damon in Good Will Hunting.” The moment I said it, I wanted to remove my foot from my mouth. Why did I say random things like that?
The corners of his mouth curled in amusement. “Yeah, except I’m not Ben Affleck, and I never told her to leave without saying goodbye.”
“I know, I’m sorry.”
His head tilted, and his brow rose.
Shit.I’d just apologized. Again.
He must have seen that I recognized what I’d done, because he continued without mentioning it. “I called her, texted her, and left about ten voicemails over a week, but she didn’t reply to any of them. I finally called her parents, just to make sure she was okay. They told me she was fine and was just busy settling in. Then, about a week later, I found out from my friend Finn that she’d cheated on me the night before she left with a guy we went to school with, who I’d always known was in love with her.”
“I’m sorr?—”
Cole lowered his head and kissed me, interrupting my apology. It wasn’t a family-friendly peck. It was a full-on makeout session. His arms tightened around me as my fingers grasped his shoulders, holding on for dear life. By the time we came up for air, I was panting and dazed.
As I stared up at him, he grinned. “That’s one way to break your habit.”
“I don’t think that will work because it would be an incentive, not a deterrent,” I responded breathlessly.
At the inference that his kissing me every time I apologized would only make me do it more often, the intensity in his stare, the fire, and the life was back.
“Do you want to go back to the room?” His voice was gritty and rough.
I knew what he was suggesting. He wasn’t just asking me to go back to the room. The implication was that once we got there, we’d rip each other’s clothes off.
I’d spent the past two decades pining after the wrong man, and he never made me feel half as alive, half as cared for, half as safe, or half as dangerous in all that time as Cole had in the past forty-eight hours.
The smart thing to do would be to stay with Billie and Birdie tonight. I didn’t trust myself not to fall even deeper into whatever this was. I’d wasted so many years on loving someone I shouldn’t have; I needed to break the cycle.
His thumb made lazy circles on my lower back. I wasn’t sure if it was meant to seduce me, but if it was, it was working. The slightest touch from Cole was all it took to send my hormones into a frenzy of anticipation.
“Yes,” I breathed.
The walk back to the room was a blur. I wasn’t sure if that was because of the two glasses of champagne I’d drank or if it was because I was buzzed on the anticipation of what possibilities the night had in store.
Cole kept his hand on my back as we walked down the path toward the room. I did my best not to think about the fact that at this time tomorrow night, I’d be back in my apartment. Alone. Well, not alone. I had Duke and Whiskey. I loved them, but they were no Cole.
He opened the door, and I walked past him into the room. I only made it two steps when he grabbed my wrist and pulled me against him as the door slammed behind us. We’d only made it to the entryway and were standing in front of the floor-length mirror; my back was flush against his front.
Silently, he gathered my hair and draped it over my right shoulder. Even in the reflection, the intensity in his eyes was palpable as he stared down at my bare back. He lifted his arm, and his knuckles grazed the bare skin between my shoulder blades, then traveled down my spine, sending a ripple of tingles through me.
My heart thudded in my chest as the sound of the zipper being pulled down filled the air. His eyes met mine as he lifted both hands to my shoulders. The tips of his fingers dipped beneath the straps, and he slid them off my shoulders and down my arms. The dress pooled at my feet, leaving me wearing only my black thong panties and nude heels.
I turned around to face him and began to unbutton his shirt. He started to help, but I stopped him.
“Can I?” I asked. If he assisted in undressing himself, he’d be naked in seconds. If I did, I could take my time exploring him.
He nodded as his chest rose and fell in shallow pants. With each button that I freed, my heartbeat pounded heavier in my chest. I’d seen him naked; I’d touched him, but this felt more deliberate, somehow. We’d had sex, but this felt more intentional, more intimate.
I tugged his shirt from his pants. After the final button was freed, my hands traveled up his torso and over his shoulders as I slid the material off his body. Then, I worked on his pants, unbuttoning and unzipping them. He kicked off his shoes as my thumbs dipped beneath the waistband of his boxer briefs. I tugged his clothes down his hips. He assisted me, stepping out of his pants and underwear and removing his socks.
