"No," I say, the word sharp enough to make him look up from the vegetables he's slicing. "Not tomorrow. Not after the audit. Now."
Cole's expression shifts from surprise to wariness. "Ruby—"
"Don't 'Ruby' me." I cross my arms, standing my ground. "Tomorrow I'll be gone. Back to Atlanta. Back to my life. Either you tell me now, or you don't tell me at all. But I'm done waiting."
His jaw tightens, those green eyes squinting. "It's complicated."
"Life is complicated. Taxes are complicated. Whatever this is between us?" I gesture between us. "That's complicated. But secrets? Secrets are simple. You either share them, or you don't."
"It's not that easy." He sets down the knife, "There are risks."
"Risks?" Frustration bubbles up, hot and urgent. "What about the risk of kissing me, then pulling away with cryptic warnings? What about the risk I've taken, staying here with a man I barely know, trusting you when everything about you screams that you're hiding something?"
Cole straightens to his full height, imposing even across the kitchen island. "You need to calm down."
Wrong thing to say. Very wrong.
"Don't tell me to calm down." I round the island, closing the distance between us. "I'm tired of being kept in the dark. Of watching you pace at night. Of seeing your eyes change color and pretending I didn't. Of bears with green eyes that look eerily familiar."
His expression shutters, confirming I've hit close to some truth. Frustration propels me forward, and I shove against his chest, needing some outlet for the storm of emotions inside me.
He doesn't budge. Not even an inch. It's like pushing against a brick wall.
Cole towers over me, looking down with an expression I can't quite read—concern, restraint, and something darker, more primal. He steps forward, and suddenly I'm backing up until I hit the wall. He places a hand beside my head, effectively trapping me between his massive body and the unyielding surface behind me.
"You have no idea what you're getting yourself into," he says, voice low and rough, eyes glinting in the kitchen light.
Heart pounding, I lift my chin defiantly. "Then tell me! Just tell me, Cole!"
His arms and hands are trembling, not with weakness but with some immense effort of restraint. Abruptly, he turns away, hands covering his face, shoulders hunched as if in pain.
My anger dissolves instantly into concern. I push away from the wall, following him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Cole? What's wrong?"
When he turns back, his voice has changed—deeper, almost guttural. His eyes, those forest-green eyes that have haunted me since I arrived, are different. Brighter. Almost... glowing.
"Ruby," he says, my name sounding like both warning and plea.
Before I can respond, he moves with startling speed, pulling me back to the wall and turning me to face it. His massive body presses against mine from behind, and I feel his cock throbbing, hard and insistent, against my back.
This doesn't feel like Cole. Not the kind, gentleman I've come to know over the past two days. This is something more primal, more desperate. And God help me, it's intoxicating.
His breath is hot against my neck as he speaks, voice rough and strained. "I can't... control myself much longer."
Some rational part of my brain knows I should be concerned by this admission. But rationality is rapidly losing ground to the heat building between us, to the way my body responds to his touch, to the strange, overwhelming sense that this is exactly where I'm meant to be.
"Then don't," I whisper, pressing back against him. "Don't overthink it. Just let go."
The sound he makes is barely human. A growl that vibrates through his chest into my back. I hear fabric tear and realize with a shock that he's ripping away his clothes, hands trembling with urgency. My sweater gives way, followed by my bra, until I'm standing in just my underwear, still facing the wall, heart thundering in my chest.
His hands are everywhere at once. Rough palms skimming over my stomach, rising to cup my breasts, fingers pinching my nipples with just enough pressure to make me gasp.
Cole drops to his knees behind me, large hands gripping my hips, thumbs pressing into the flesh of my thighs. Where Marcus once criticized my curves, Cole worships them, his mouth hot against my skin as he now kisses the roundness of my butt cheeks.
I try to turn, to see his face, but his voice stops me. "Don't look. Not yet." The command is gentle but firm. "Close your eyes, Ruby. Just feel."
I obey, letting my forehead rest against the cool wall, surrendering to sensation. His fingers hook into the waistband of my panties, slowly dragging them down my thighs until they pool at my ankles. I step out of them, now completely naked before him.
Cool air hits my pussy, and I know he can see how aroused I am—how wet, how ready. A moment of self-consciousness flits through me, but it vanishes when I feel his fingers tracing delicately through my folds.
