Anyone else would have choked on their spit and run for the hills, but not me. It took a few months after meeting her to get used to what came from her mouth, but I did.
Thank god.
Scooping some foam off my beer on my fingers, I flicked them at Thayer, laughing when it landed right on her boob.
“You are so immature, waffle cone? Really, Thayer. You are allowed to use the actual words you know.” Rolling my eyes at her.
Stalling tactic? You bet! The last thing I wanted to discuss was my night with Cole Stephens. It was painfully obvious my performance in bed had not made a dent in his mind, jolted a memory, or rated a simple, ‘hey, thanks for the fuck’. Drunk or not, Cole had no interest in remembering that night with me, his absence the last five days proved that.
“I can’t wait to have sex,” Thayer announced suddenly, her face taking on a dreamy quality. I knew that look; Thayer was about to start on one of her rants, not only about sex and wanting it, but her perfected description of how.
“I know exactly how it is going to go,” Thayer declared, taking a gulp of her beer.
And … here we go!
“I’m waiting for the perfect man to sweep me off my feet and claim me. I want him to look at me like I’m the only person in existence for him, that I am that one person he needs to breathe, his reason to get up in the morning. His whole life will revolve around me, and his devotion to me will have no limits. There will be nothing he will deny me. His kisses will take my breath away make me tremble from the inside out, and then he will rip my clothes off and—”
“Fuck my brains out!” I shouted, finishing her sentence for her; it was one I knew only too well.
“If that’s what you want, then I am more than willing to oblige, Temptress,” a deep, throaty, sexy as sin voice said from behind me, making me tingle all over.
Oh my pulsing pussy, I know that voice. My pulsing pussy knows that voice.
My eyes widened at Thayer, who was literally fanning herself with one hand while she held her icy cold glass at her skin between the V of her tee-shirt, her eyes on the man behind me.
Oh, for the love of god!
For days I have dreamed of the man that voice belonged to, prayed for an explanation for his ghosting me. Now, he was behind me, more or less offering his dick to me.
Pig.
Mentally engaging in a fight with my girlie bits, I forced the fever growing deep in my core to extinguish or smoulder enough so I could gather my wits.
How dare he! What kind of woman does he think I am!
Feeding off my annoyance not only at Cole’s temerity but at my bestie openly gawking at the object of my affection.
Do not call him that Oaklee, he rocked your world then shattered it hours later. Remember that when you turn around to give him a good old tongue lashing.
Confident with my internal pep talk, I lowered my drink, pried my fingers from the glass, and slowly turned in my seat, ready to give him a piece of my mind.
“You can take that offer and stick it—” The threat died on my tongue when Cole came into my view, and what a view it was.
Dressed in tight black jeans and equally tight black tee-shirt, his aviator sunglasses hooked over the neck of his shirt, and somehow even that looked sexy on him. I couldn’t stop my eyes from travelling down his thick, muscled thighs down to his black, lace-up boots.
Everything he wore was black, his hair and his inky black eyes.
What a hunk of ever-loving spunk.
Crossing his arms over his chest, Cole looked smug and very happy with himself as he raised his brows at me.
“Where would you like me to stick it, Temptress?”
The sexual innuendo making me blush and nearly derailing my train of thought. Lucky for me, Thayer chose that moment to spit out her mouthful of beer in a burst of laughter, the liquid spraying all over my arm.
“Hopefully not her arse, unless you do that first, then wash your dick before putting it in her vagina.” Thayer’s totally inappropriate comment bringing a belly laugh from Cole and a few shocked gasps from some of the patrons close enough to hear.
“Thayer!” My indignant cry grabbing the attention of several people around us and one waitress who came running over to the table with a cloth.
“Oh dear, can I get you another drink?” the pretty girl asked, hastily wiping at my arm.
“No, no, no, it’s—”
“Three more thanks, Kelly,” Cole interrupted me, winking at the waitress, then stalked forward and took the seat next to mine, his legs bumping mine under the table, causing a slew of goosebumps to form on my skin.
“Oh hey, Cole.” Kelly, the waitress, smiled at Cole like he was nothing more than another patron in the Bar and Grill and not the hottest man on the planet.
Kelly finished brushing me off, then stood up and took the glasses from the table and placed them on a tray she pulled from I don’t know where.
“I will be right back,” she told us, smiling at the three of us, not giving Cole any special attention.
What the hell is wrong with her? Is she a nun? An alien? Taking a vow of celibacy?
I was in the middle of trying to figure it out when a thought occurred to me. A horrible, gut-wrenching thought.
Surely he didn’t sleep with her and forget about it too? About to get up and leave, Thayer decided to speak, this time without a mouthful of beer.
“So, you’re Cole,” Thayer accused, not asked, her eyes narrowed at him.
“I am, yes. And judging by the daggers you are shooting me, am I right to presume that Oaklee has filled you in on what happened five days ago?” Cole’s deep voice didn’t hold any anger or annoyance that Thayer knew about our encounter or that she was glaring at him.
Interesting.
“Yep,” Thayer grunted, her hands fisting on the table. A knowing grin split my mouth, and suddenly some of the unease and tension unravelled just a bit. Sitting back in my seat, I let Thayer have the spotlight.
“Tell me if I have this wrong, Cole,” Thayer drawled, leaning forward, “basically what happened is you had crazy, wild, mattress-pounding sex with my bestie. The next morning, you acted like Oaklee had the plague and then took off for five days, forgetting that you rocked my best friend’s world.”
My smirk fell, and a high-pitched shriek left my lips.
“Thayer! What the hell! Don’t tell him that!” My protest was just as loud as the music playing around us.
“What … it’s true.” Thayer shrugged. “Oaklee, you said the earth shifted, and angels sang, that’s what you told me.”
“You, Thayer! I told you that, not him,” I argued, wishing that a crack would suddenly open at my feet and swallow me whole.
“Well, to be fair to Thayer here, you did say I was better than any of your dreams you’d had about me,” Cole added and not helpfully. He turned to look at me, his blinding smile holding me captive. His comment might have been meant to be a joke or to diffuse the tension at the table, but there was nothing jovial about the flare of heat in his inky eyes that were staring right at me, seeing far more than I wanted him to.
He was better than my dreams, he did rock my world, and heavens above, he surely did pound me into the mattress.
Damn him.
“This isn’t funny, Cole,” I seethed at him, “I would rather that you don’t sit with us, please.” The pained expression that crossed his face for a brief second nearly had me changing my mind, but it left quickly only to be replaced with a stubborn lift of his chin.
“No,” Cole clipped, at the same time as Thayer. Her for different reasons than Cole, I smartly concluded, going by her smile.
“Oaklee,” my friend sighed, finally taking her eyes off Cole and looking at me with a look that told me I had a lecture coming my way.
Marvellous.
“For five days, you have been stressing over that night and what went wrong. You even blamed yourself for him forgetting a few times—”
Cole hissed in
a breath, his leg against mine went taut.
“What! Fuck no, you didn’t,” he yelled, looking from Thayer then to me. His face was thunderous and damn if that didn’t turn me on.
“Oaklee, no,” Cole repeated, grabbing my arm, his long fingers digging into my bare skin, the pressure didn’t hurt, but it was enough to make me begin to tremble. My arms were still quite skinny, not skeletal like they used to be, but thin enough that his fingers reached around the entire arm to touch. Now I knew that was a stupid thought considering I was naked on top and under him at one point, but the room had been dark and his focus was dumbed by the alcohol. Tonight he appeared very sober and aware.
If Cole noticed how thin my arm was, he didn’t give any indication; he just looked at me, guilt etched all over his face.
“Baby, we really need to talk somewhere other than here,” he muttered quietly, still not letting go of his hold on me.
I had come to terms with my new weight, slowly putting on enough that I didn’t stand out in a crowd. Not classed as the anorexic girl any longer, but that didn’t stop the tiny familiar trickle of dread shoot down my spine. The counsellors helped me with coping skills whenever I felt overwhelmed or uncomfortable in a social setting like I was now. Unable to move the arm Cole had hold of, I used my other one to grab a napkin off the table and began to roll it up in my hand, squeezing my fingers around it as if my life depended on it.
Again, if Cole noticed, he wasn’t letting on, but Thayer did, and my bestie knew my signs and triggers and how to deal with this. Flipping out her hand, Thayer knocked her newly delivered glass of beer over, sending the liquid pooling over Cole’s side of the table. Letting me go, he stood up and calmly, without commotion, reached for a handful of napkins from the holder and started sopping up the mess, giving me time to get my breathing and mind under control. Concentrating on the napkin in my fist, I closed my eyes and brought up the vision of me standing in front of the mirror this morning and the chant I repeated every time I stood there in my underwear.
No bones are sticking out; your face is not gaunt, your skin is not sagging. You ate breakfast and didn’t throw it up.
Repeating my routine mantra silently in my head, I felt Thayer watching me, waiting for the sign that I made it through the panic attack.
Unclenching my fingers, the balled-up piece of paper fell from my hand and down to the table, the tightening in my chest released, my breaths returning to normal.
Sliding my eyes to Thayer, I nodded once, receiving a happy smile from her.
Good job, she mouthed, giving me a covert thumbs up, then quickly returning her attention to Cole and him cleaning up her spilt drink.
“Clumsy is my middle name,” she singsonged, giving him an unrepentant shrug.
“Hmmm.” Was his only response, but his tone had me worried that he was suspicious of Thayer’s theatrics. My eating disorder wasn’t a dirty secret, but it was my business and my decision to share it or not. It wasn’t like I walked around with a sign around my neck announcing to all that I used to be a skeleton and threw up food. People close to me knew, and those who noticed things others didn’t would see that my frame was very thin. Cole was in the category of a noticer, the same as his dad.
Memphis knew about my medical history, as I had to fill in an employment declaration and insurance form when she hired me. At the time, I glossed over most of it, thinking at the time that I was glad Memphis couldn’t see my face when I told her. Little did I know my new boss had her own unique way of reading a person’s facial expression. That day I discovered just how amazing and special Memphis Stephens truly was. I had been in the middle of flippantly telling her about my eating disorder when she stopped me with a semi-harsh growl. One I later learned she got from her husband, then she told me to start over again, this time with her fingers on my face. I did as asked only with her fingers tracing over my lips, cheeks and eyes area. She even placed two fingers at the base of my throat, feeling my pulse as I spoke. By the end of it, I poured out the whole story, not just about my anorexia and bulimia disease but about my parents and having to go live with my grandparents multiple times until they got full-time custody of me. Both of them were fed up with my mum and dad bouncing me back and forth whenever it suited them.
After that day, I never glossed over issues or omitted the truth from Memphis again.
Until today at the bookshop, that is, when I told her Creed wasn’t growling for any other reason than his worrying about her and the crowd of people.
“Oaklee?” Cole reached out again to grab me, only this time only taking two of my fingers, gently shaking my hand.
“Yeah?” I whispered, looking down at our fingers, my throat clogging up at the gentle way he was touching me.
He knows and understands on some level that this is what I need.
Cole gave my hand another slight shake, lifting my eyes to his, a small hiss left me.
Looking down at me, Cole had the kindest smile on his lips. It was beautiful but somehow out of place on his tense face.
“Let’s talk, baby.” His voice still deep, but his tone was inviting, his eyes darting to the door behind me.
“Okay.” My voice breathy, and god damn it, right then, I decided I would follow anywhere Cole chose to lead me.
CHAPTER SEVEN
COLE
Oaklee’s fingers clung to mine as I led her through the crowded bar to the exit only the staff and Club were allowed to use.
The Bar and Grill had an outside area at the front of the building, and I wanted to avoid seeing anyone either Oaklee or I knew in case it gave her an opportunity to make a bolt for it. Back at the table, I saw in her green eyes so many conflicting emotions aimed at me, I couldn’t help but be intrigued. Other than that night, which was still sketchy at best, Oaklee and I rarely crossed paths. Dad’s warning kept me from talking to her, asking her why she watched me so much. I had to guess that she was too young for me, going by her tiny size, but now I wasn’t so sure she was. I fucking hope she was legal, at least, because sleeping with her the other night would be a disaster if she wasn’t.
“How old are you?” I asked as I pressed the security code into the keypad for the back door.
“I turn twenty-three in two months. Why? Did you think that you deflowered a minor or something?” Oaklee sassed back at me, a smile tugging at my lips. She might be slight in stature, but she had spunk. I liked that about her.
“Deflower?” Pulling her outside, I looked around to see if any of the staff were on a break. Steel had Deck build an outdoor break room for the workers, half of it was enclosed and the other half was a beer garden. Comfy chairs with weatherproof material littered the area and in the middle was a terracotta fire-pit for the cooler months. Seeing it was vacant, thanks to the fact that the Bar and Grill was packed, meaning the staff was all on deck working, I moved towards the enclosed area, Oaklee following me, her hand still in mine.
“I don’t remember too much about that night we spent together, but I don’t recall you being shy and innocent, Temptress,” I drawled dryly.
Jesus Christ, surely that wasn’t her first time. If it was, I deserved to face a firing squad.
“No Cole,” Oaklee huffed, letting her fingers slide from my grip, and she dropped down into an overstuffed recliner. “It wasn’t my first time, not even my second, so you can relax. You didn’t steal my—” Oaklee stopped what she was about to say, her eyes wide and bugged the same way she did earlier when Thayer spewed out that I rocked Oaklee’s world in bed.
I liked that I did, it would be nice if I could remember doing it, however.
So far, only small snippets and blurry memories had come back to me. I couldn’t remember seeing her face, just her eyes. My recollections were more feelings than visual, like when I grabbed her hand, a memory washed over me. Memories of her fingers dancing over my back, twisting through my hair. It was damned maddening, not to recollect anymore, and embarrassing.
Oaklee thought I forgot deliberat
ely, like having sex with her was a non-event or something fucking stupid. I had to set her straight on that before we went any further.
“What do you mean, you don’t remember much about that night? Are you saying you were too drunk and woke up the next morning with no memory of what we did?” The question was a reasonable one to ask; her tone, however, told me that I needed to tread carefully with my answer. It seemed to me, forgetting and deliberately ignoring it was just as bad in her view.
Sitting down on the coffee table in front of her, I rested my elbows on my knees and bent closer to her. I wasn’t as tall as the other men in my team or the Club. I levelled out at just on six foot, Oaklee wasn’t short, at least five-seven, five-eight, but her slender frame made her tiny somehow.
Sighing, I took a moment to decide how I was going to go about explaining myself. I wasn’t used to this kind of thing, defending my actions. My actions were my own, and I owned them, but this was different and not in the battlefield. This time my actions hurt a person’s heart, and that I did not like.
“Oaklee, first you have to know I would never have had sex with you and intentionally ignored you the next day. I am not a prick, nor do I get off hurting a woman.”
“Soooo, it was the alcohol?” she asked, looking at me with so much interest, her question genuine.
“Partly, yeah, I drank a lot that night, more than I ever have in my life. Part way through the night I changed from beer to spirits, something I rarely do, but the occasion called for something stronger,” I admitted, shaking my head.
“Occasion?”
“What, if anything, did I say to you that night? I mean before we got into bed together.”
Pursing her pouty lips, Oaklee looked cute as she thought hard. My dick twitched in my pants as another blurry snippet of those lips nipping at mine entered my mind.
“Oh! I remember, you said you wanted me to help you forget, you had me up against the wall in the hallway, you had just kissed the breath out of me.” A blush crept over her cheeks, but she didn’t sound upset that I had manhandled her or kissed her, in fact the pulse at the base of her throat sped up at the memory.
Cole: The Wounded Sons Page 7