She’d never seen a man so cut, so chiseled to perfection. Her finger slipped beneath the lacy hem and her breath caught on a gasp as she made contact with her hot, silky flesh. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth to bite back the wanton groan. Oh, how she wished Cole would have been sunny side up when she’d walked in on him the other morning. That was one part where she wished her imagination didn’t have to fill in the blanks.
She couldn’t believe she was actually doing this—touching herself while fanaticizing it was Cole’s hand instead of hers. This wasn’t her. She didn’t do things like this. Yet here she was, heart racing, breath catching, as she slipped her finger over the bead of her sex. “Mmm, Cole . . .” she exhaled, muscles tensing, her empty core contracting with the first tremors of her long-denied release. She was close . . . so close . . .
Bang, bang, bang!
Katie yelped, startled by the pounding on her door. And just like that, for the second time in as many hours, her orgasm had been stolen from her. “What!” she snarled, glaring daggers at the door.
“What do you mean, ‘what’? You called me,” he said through the door. “Do you need something?”
She felt her cheeks flush at the response that hovered so close to her lips. Did she need something? Did she ever . . . When had that blender stopped? Mortification burned through her as it dawned on her she must have been louder than she realized. Oh Lord, how utterly embarrassing. Cole had heard her calling his name.
“Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” she snapped. “I just . . . stubbed my toe.”
Stubbed her toe, my ass. Cole had heard his name uttered on the lips of enough women in the throes of passion to know what that woman was doing in there—and he’d be damned if she was going to be doing it without his help.
By the snark in her voice, he’d gotten to her just in the nick of time. He smiled to himself, taking comfort in knowing he wasn’t the only one suffering here. So, Cold Fish Katie might not be such a crappie after all. She might pretend to be unaffected by him, and she’d done a damn convincing job of it, too, but this was the proof he needed. She could deny she wanted him until her face turned as blue as his balls. He knew better, and this proved it. Cole smiled to himself, thinking of the ways he intended to make her suffer as badly as he was. Last night, when she’d just gotten up and went to bed, she’d left him so damn hard and miserable, he’d hit the weights for another two hours trying to work himself into exhaustion with the hopes of finally getting some sleep, but it still managed to elude him most the night. One thing was for certain: he had no intention of suffering alone. Misery loves company, so game on, sweetheart . . .
“You’ve gotta stop.”
“Stop? Stop what? I wasn’t doing anything,” she squeaked from the other side of the door.
Yeah, right . . . He could hear her stomping around now, dresser drawers jerking open and slamming shut. “Stop at the grocery store. For orange juice. Remember? What were you talking about?” He bit the inside of his cheek, trying to keep from laughing as he imagined Katie scrambling to get dressed, cheeks flushed with either lust or embarrassment, a hot and bothered mess.
“Nothing! Just . . . go get ready to leave.”
He chuckled as her footsteps marched closer and the door abruptly swung open. Katie stopped just short of running into him and craned her head back to meet his gaze. This was the first time she’d been this close to him while standing up straight and not hunched over like fucking Quasimodo. He filled her doorway, hands braced on both sides of the frame as he supported himself. His crutches were propped against the wall.
Katie took a measured step back, blushing a becoming shade of crimson, and then dropped her gaze to her feet, looking wholly guilty about something. “Wow. I . . . didn’t realize you were so . . . tall.”
He supposed using the crutches he’d used yesterday did shorten him a few inches. “I didn’t realize you were so . . . little,” he shot back, arching his brow in wry amusement, grinning down at her. Jeez, she was small. The top of her head barely cleared his nipple line. Her pale hair was a sexed-up mess his fingers itched to dive into. It looked as if he wasn’t the only one who’d had a rough night of it. Damn, he couldn’t remember the last time he wanted a woman this much.
“Excuse me,” she said primly, unable to pass because he was blocking her entire doorway.
Cole shifted his weight and reached for his crutches that weren’t where he’d left them. Fuck. He glanced down at the floor and found his gimp sticks lying there. Well, wasn’t this a swell fucking predicament. He couldn’t step out of her way because he needed the door frame for support. Perhaps she noticed his problem, because she stood there a moment watching him. Finally, he lifted his arm, sliding his hand up the door frame. Jumping at her chance for escape, she stepped forward and ducked her head beneath his bicep as she turned to the side and tried to squeeze between him and the door.
She slipped her arm around his side, open hand splayed in the center of his back, and her other hand palmed his chest as if to steady him as she slid by. Her breasts dragged against his ribs, pebbled nipples searing the muscled grooves of his flesh. A pained groan chortled deep in his throat as a startled breath caught in hers.
Okay, so this had been a bad fucking idea. She was lucky his hands were busy holding himself up or they’d be gripping her ass right now as he jerked her up against his rock-hard erection while his mouth plundered hers.
“Sorry . . . I’m sorry,” she apologized for a second time as she wormed her way past him. “You’re just so . . . big. I can’t . . . get through.”
He didn’t speak, he couldn’t fucking breathe. After another torturous moment of struggling past him, Katie managed to slide by. Standing behind him now, she’d yet to let go of him. Her breasts were pressed against his lats, her little body tucked tight against his. His head felt light, like he’d taken a left hook to the jaw. That was probably because the majority of his circulation was currently shunted to his other head.
“Here, let me get your crutches.”
Aaaand just like that, she unmanned him. It wasn’t her fault. But the feeling of weakness enraged him all the same. Her hands were still on him, but no longer did he feel the heat of her touch, or the sensuality of her full, soft breasts pressed against him. He felt like a fucking cripple who had a half-pint of a woman beneath him with the idiotic notion that she could somehow keep him from flattening her if he fell.
“Let go of me, Katie.” At the cold briskness in his voice, she jerked back. He immediately wanted to kick himself in the ass for being such a prideful prick. He was here for her help, so why did he have such a damn difficult time accepting it?
She jerked away as if he’d burned her. Before he could apologize, she took another step back, bent to retrieve his crutches, and propped them against the wall, murmuring, “I . . . I’m sorry,” before fleeing into the bathroom and slamming the door behind her.
Muttering a nasty self-damning curse, Cole shifted his grip on the doorway and reached for the crutches, propping one beneath each arm. He turned to enter his bedroom across the hall when a chirp sounded in the living room. He’d heard it periodically throughout the night, but hadn’t cared enough to investigate. Seeking out the sound, Cole tracked it to the couch. Propping one crutch against the cushions, he balanced on the other and bent down, reaching between the cushions.
His hand connected with the small thin box and he pulled out Katie’s phone. She must have dropped it when she’d been sitting on the couch last night. The iPhone chirped and vibrated in his hand. Cole glanced down at the screen and saw she had nine unopened messages—all from an unavailable number. The last one displayed across her home screen, sending a surge of possessive fury flooding through his veins: You belong to me!
The hell she did. The shower turned on down the hall, and after a moment of hesitation and a quick glance toward the bathroom, Cole swiped his thumb across the screen and opened Katie’s other messages. They’
d started shortly after midnight and continued throughout the night. Just like the call, the messages had started out coaxing. I’m so sorry. I love you, baby. Don’t do this to us. Please talk to me. And when that didn’t work, the messages grew more persistent. Do you really think I can’t find you? How long do you think you can hide from me? To downright nasty. I saw you with him tonight. I bet you’re with him right now, you fucking cunt! You’re nothing but a goddamn whore! I’ll fucking kill you before I see you with someone else! You belong to me!
Holy hell . . . this guy was fucking insane. Shit like this had a way of escalating—fast. Did Katie have any idea how much danger she was in? He wanted to talk to her about it, but after getting shot down enough times to ground a B-52 bomber, Cole wasn’t hopeful he’d get the answers he needed from her. But he knew how else to get them. Pocketing Katie’s cell, he grabbed his other crutch and headed for the kitchen and a cup of much-needed coffee.
Before taking a seat at the kitchen table, he set Katie’s phone in the middle of it and grabbed his off the counter. He had no doubt she was going to be pissed when she learned he’d read her messages, and she’d be even more livid if she ever discovered what he was about to do, but he didn’t fucking care. Her safety was at stake, and he wasn’t taking any chances. Listening for the shower, he made sure it was still running before dialing.
The phone rang twice . . . three times . . . then, “Hey, kid, how’s it going? You freezing your balls off yet?”
Despite himself, Cole’s top lip tugged into a crooked grin at the sound of his old friend’s voice. “Just about,” he chuckled. “It’s a damn dirty trick to put a guy on a plane and send him up here in nothin’ but a hoodie.”
Marcus busted out laughing, one of those belly laughs that ended in a coughing fit. The smile on Cole’s face fell to a concerned scowl. “You get that cough looked at yet? No, of course not,” he answered for the guy, already knowing the response. “I’ve been nagging you for months to get that damn thing checked. When I get home I’m hauling your ass to the doctor. No fucking argument.”
“Oh, please. You sound like my wife, God rest her soul.”
“Yeah, well, she must have been a smart woman,” Cole grumbled.
“She was. The best. Too damn good for me. I was just lucky she never figured it out.”
Cole smiled, his chest tightening with emotion at hearing the old man talk about his beloved wife—Katie’s aunt, he realized, making the late connection. Marcus didn’t speak of his wife often, and Cole suspected the wound was too raw—even after all these years. But in those rare instances when he did, Cole felt like he’d been given a rare glimpse into the life of the man he loved like a father.
“So, enough about me, kid. How are you getting along with my niece?”
Wow, that was a loaded question Cole wasn’t touching with a ten-foot pole. “Fine,” he answered ambiguously. “You were right. She’s an excellent PT. She doesn’t hesitate to bust my balls. Reminds me a lot of you, actually.”
Marcus laughed. “You oughtta feel right at home, then. So what’s the problem?”
“I didn’t say there was one.”
“You didn’t have to. I know you, kid. I can hear it in your voice. Something’s eating at you.”
Cole let out a pent-up breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. “Tell me the truth, Marcus. You didn’t just send me up here for rehab, did you?”
Condemning silence on the other line. It continued so long, Cole had almost given up all hope of getting an answer from the guy, when he exhaled a long troubled sigh. “How bad is it?”
“You knew?” Cole couldn’t keep the accusation out of his voice any easier than he could stem his flare of temper at being blindsided. Goddamn manipulative bast—
“I suspected,” Marcus confessed. “She’s been home too long for him not to have found her. If he’d been looking, that is.”
“He was, and he has.”
Marcus cursed under his breath. “Listen, Cole, you’re going to have to get her out of there.”
What? “And go where?”
“Here. Come back to Vegas. Tell her that you’ve gotta do a CFA expo for Spike TV or something. I don’t give a shit what you’ve gotta do or say, just get her the hell out of there before that bastard does something that can’t be undone.”
“You want me to lie to her?—because that’s a great foundation for trust right there.”
“It’s not lying. Spike’s been buggin’ the hell outta me, trying to schedule a time to do a segment on your recovery ever since your accident. I’ve just been putting them off until you were in a better frame of mind to have a bunch of cameras in your face.”
“And you think now is that time? Fucking A, Marcus, I’m a goddamn wreck! And even if I did agree to the interview, which I’m not, she wouldn’t come with me. She’s got no reason to follow me halfway across the United States—”
“Then give her one.”
“Are you fucking shitting me? Are you hearing yourself? You’re actually suggesting I seduce your niece? Jesus, Marcus, you of all people should know what a horrible idea that is. My track record with women is like oh-for . . . I can’t even fucking count that high.”
“Dammit, Cole! How many times do I have to tell you to watch your mouth? I’m asking you to protect her—whatever it takes.”
Whatever it takes? Holy hell, nothing like having the man who’d effectively served as his conscience, the man he loved and respected more than anyone, pull out all the stops and give a green light to bang his niece. The only reason he’d shown this much restraint was out of respect for her uncle—his mentor—his friend. Talk about your broken moral compass. That Marcus would suggest something so far past the line was a red fucking flag if he’d ever seen one.
“How much danger is she really in here, Marcus? How serious is this guy?”
“Serious enough to have her hopping on a bus in the middle of the night with nothing but the clothes on her back and hardly a dollar to her name. Serious enough to disappear for two years where no one knew where she was.”
“Fuck . . .” Cole growled, roughly dragging his hand through his hair.
“Don’t you dare tell her I told you this, either. Katie doesn’t like to talk about it. I’m the only one who knows—not her parents, not anyone. The only reason I’m telling you now is because I know she won’t and I’m expecting you to keep her safe until you can get her to me.”
“She’s not going to up and leave her dad. He’s the whole reason she’s here in the first place.”
“You can get her to do it, boy. I have faith in you.”
The bathroom room opened and Cole muttered a ripe curse. “I gotta go. She’s coming.” He didn’t wait for an answer before disconnecting the call. Steeling his nerve, Cole prepared to have a sit-down with Katie to discuss the situation with her ex, but taking a breath before inviting her to sit down was as far as he got. Cole’s breath stalled in his lungs when she appeared in the hall, transformed from a hot mess to a fresh-faced angel. His heart momentarily stopped and all rational thought ceased.
Her form-fitting jade green scrubs matched her eyes. The light smattering of makeup she wore highlighted her flawless complexion. It was a drastic contrast from the face paint he was used to seeing on women, and he discovered he liked the natural look—a lot—or maybe he just liked Katie. Her still-damp hair was coiled in a twist and pinned up high on her head, giving her an innocent, sexy librarian look. The haphazard disarray at the ends hinted her hair was just as untamable as the woman. His chest tightened, suddenly making him aware of his heartbeat rioting inside his rib cage. Utterly gorgeous were the words that came to mind as she stood there wearing a mask of composure he almost bought.
Katie was busy contemplating the need for a handheld shower head if she was going to survive living with Cole for the next few months, when she entered the living room and came to an abrupt stop. Speak of the devil . . . And he looked every bit the sinful beast, watching her fro
m across the room. If anyone had perfected the art of impassivity, it was this man right here. Unwavering crystal-blue eyes, clear and vibrant as a cloudless day, bore into her with an intensity that sent a needle of apprehension prickling up her spine.
On a base level, the woman in her responded to him like a moth drawn to light. But the rational part of her knew she should be wary of him, of this attraction burning between them like a forest fire. Perhaps if she hadn’t been so rudely interrupted this morning, she’d have a better handle on her hormones. But she had been, and she didn’t, leaving Katie downright cranky. Her skin felt too tight for her body, her clothing irritated her flesh—brushing against overly sensitive areas and abrading others.
Drawing on her last reserve of control, Katie straightened her shoulders, stood every bit as tall as her five-foot-four frame would allow, and walked into the kitchen. “Have you eaten?” she asked primly, heading for the cupboard to grab a coffee cup and trying not to notice the heat of Cole’s gaze searing her ass.
“I did. What about you? Would you like something?”
Was he actually offering to cook her breakfast? For a moment, she considered saying yes, curious to see how that would play out, but she was running late—and this time it was her fault. She shook her head. “I prefer to drink my breakfast.” She raised her mug in the air in salute before taking a sip.
“When you’re done, would you please come sit down? There’s something I want to talk to you about.”
The gravity in his voice told her this was a conversation she wasn’t going to appreciate having. After the night she had, Katie was neither in the mood, nor of the patience, to have a sit-down with the sexy Cole Easton. “Can it wait?” she asked, moving toward the window over the kitchen sink to read the current outside temperature—minus fifteen. “I gotta stop at the store before I go to my parents this morning, remember? We should get going.”
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