It was him.
The leaping heart started pumping wicked fast in my chest as I let go of the blinds. With a shaky hand, I unlocked the door and opened it.
Cole stood outside. Our gazes met. He didn’t say a word, and neither did I. Judge him for what he has done. I wasn’t sure I was of the right mind to be judging anyone at the moment, but I also knew the answer to Mom’s question, the one I said I didn’t know.
I still cared about Cole.
I don’t think I’d ever stopped caring for him, and I knew it sounded crazy, because there were ten years between us, but I believed that sometimes you cared so deeply about someone that no matter what happened, you never really stopped.
Because of that tiny truth I kept close to my heart, I stepped aside and let Cole in.
Chapter 13
Cole’s gaze moved over me, from the top of my messy bun to the tips of my bare toes, and when his eyes finally made it back to mine, one side of his lips quirked up in his familiar half grin.
“Cute,” he murmured, reaching down and unhooking the holster at his hip. It and the gun went onto the counter.
My hand flickered to my hair. “What is?”
“All of it.” He closed the door behind him, and the click of the locks turning into place made me feel oddly nervous. “Though I did like what you were wearing last night. That was also very . . . cute.”
Heat swept across my cheeks and filled my veins as I dropped my hand. “Let’s not talk about that.”
The kick to his lips spread to the other side as he tossed his keys on the kitchen island. “I’ll try not to bring up the lace I could feel but couldn’t see, but I won’t make any promises.”
The lace wasn’t the only thing he’d felt. Clutching the sides of my cardigan, I wished it had buttons, because I didn’t have a bra on underneath the cami, and I wasn’t the kind of person who could get away with not wearing a bra. “Would you like something to drink?”
“Not that I’m complaining, but you’re actually not going to ask why I’m here and demand that I leave?” he inquired, eyes gleaming in the light.
“Not yet,” I replied, dipping my chin. “But I won’t make any promises.”
Cole’s chuckle was deep and sexy.
The heat was now washing over my belly. “Why . . . are you here?”
“You forgot already? I told you my ass was going to be here until I get an alarm on this door and, come to think of it, your mother’s. Didn’t get a chance to talk to my buddy today, but I’ll do that tomorrow.”
Seconds away from pointing out I didn’t need a person acting like a real, live, breathing security system, I stopped myself mainly because I wanted him here. I also seriously doubted he’d be here every night until an alarm was installed.
“So, what do you have to drink?” he asked.
“Not much.” Pivoting on my bare feet, I walked over to the fridge. “I have some of my mom’s sweet tea, a couple of bottles of water, and Diet Coke. No alcohol. Sorry. I haven’t had a chance to run to the store yet.”
“Tea works for me.” He followed me into the narrow kitchen. “Got to work in the morning.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t be up late then,” I said, grabbing the tea. I turned, sucking in a soft breath when I discovered he was right behind me. The kitchen was small, but not that small. His closeness made me nervous again in that weird way. Not a bad way. Not unpleasant. Just in a way that made me feel hyperaware of anything about him, because there was this innate knowledge that he didn’t need to be this close. He was because he wanted to be.
I cleared my throat. “I mean, I figure you have a long commute.”
“My schedule doesn’t necessarily have a start time,” he said, angling his body so that we were feet to boots. “I can take care of myself. I’m a big boy.”
That he was.
Cole plucked the small pitcher of tea from my hands. “Where’re your glasses?”
“The cabinet above the sink.”
“Would you like some?”
“Sure,” I whispered. How he ended up being the one to do the serving in my house I had no idea. He grabbed two glasses and got to pouring while I got busy watching the way his muscles moved under the henley. When he turned, handing me my glass, I averted my gaze, but not before I caught sight of his knowing smile. “So . . .” I drew the word out as I walked into the living room. “Is there any news on Angela?”
Cole brushed past me and made his way out to the living room. He sat on the couch. “Not a lot.”
I followed him, then took a seat next to him. The couch wasn’t a large one, so that left very little room between us. “But something?”
“While I was at the station with Ethan, one of the local detectives—Tyron Conrad—was able to get in touch with Angela’s Wednesday-evening professor. She was in class. The professor said everything appeared normal with her, and he assumes that she left campus after the lecture.” Pausing, he took a drink. “Ethan said he’d checked the campus in Hagerstown and didn’t see her car. Tyron contacted the state police in Maryland, and they have her vehicle information. As far as I know, they were double checking just to make sure her vehicle isn’t there.”
I let that sink in as I sipped my tea. “If her vehicle isn’t there, that means something happened to her on her way home or when she got home.”
“Or she left after class and didn’t tell anyone. I know that sounds unlikely but at this point, anything is possible.” Leaning forward, he placed his glass on the coffee table. “What I’m about to tell you needs to stay between us,” he explained, angling his body toward mine. “Okay?”
“Yeah. Of course.”
He watched me for a moment. “Ethan said they had a fight while she was driving to class. He wasn’t very open about what the fight was about, but they argued.”
“That could be a good thing or a bad thing. I mean, she could’ve just needed time to get away, clear her mind. Completely irresponsible but that’s better than any of the other options.” I pressed my lips together. “That also means Ethan is probably a suspect?”
“It’s really not anything personal against him. When anyone turns up missing, those who know the person are the first anyone is going to look at, especially if there was an argument,” he explained. “A missing person’s report was filed, and all nearby agencies have the description of her and her vehicle. Hopefully something will turn up.”
“Hopefully,” I murmured, lifting the glass to my lips. A tremble coursed down my arm. “Do you think that’s what happened?”
“Honestly?” Reaching over, he took the glass from my hands. My eyes narrowed as he placed it on the coffee table beside his. He rose as he said, “Lived here my whole life, and the only time we had more than one woman disappear, it was because we had a serial killer on our hands.”
My stomach churned at what he said and my pulse quickened because he was standing in front of me. “You think there’s another serial killer?”
“I didn’t say that. Could be two completely unrelated cases, but anything’s possible.”
“Anything—” I gasped as he knelt and wrapped his hands around my arms. “What are you doing?”
“Talking to you,” he replied.
“This isn’t talking—” Air whooshed out of me as he lifted me up. In one smooth action, he sat back down with me in his lap, my side pressed against his chest and my legs stretched out on the couch. Stunned, I was frozen stiff like a mannequin as I stared at him. We were face-to-face until he shifted me down a few inches so I was now at eye level with his throat. “This is not talking.”
He grinned at me. “Yeah, it is. We’re just talking very closely.”
My mouth worked but no words came out for several seconds. I was surrounded by him, by his warmth and the citrusy scent of what was his aftershave or cologne. I was guessing it was his cologne, because as close as I was, I could tell he hadn’t shaved in at least two days. “It’s not—”
“It’s totally necessary
,” he cut in, reading my mind. He circled one arm around my waist. “And you know what?”
I lifted my gaze to his. “What?”
“You haven’t tried to get away.”
Damn it. He was right. I was sitting all comfy in his lap. My nose scrunched. “Maybe because I realize it would be a fruitless endeavor.”
“Uh-huh.” His grin went up a notch, and it was nice when I wasn’t sitting in his lap, and stunning when I was. “Back to what we were talking about. Anything is possible. We both know that, but I keep telling myself that two serial killers hitting up this same area seems improbable to me.”
Worrying my lower lip, I lowered my gaze back down to his throat. Jason had said the same thing, and it did seem improbable but it also wasn’t impossible. No matter what, even if Angela showed up tomorrow, a woman was dead, and it was frightening.
“Hey.” The hand on my hip squeezed, and I looked up to find him watching me. “What are you thinking?”
I let go of my lip. “I was thinking . . . that this is familiar. Like it was before, sitting around and hoping that someone was going to show up and be okay.”
His hand left my hip and ran up my back. It was a comforting gesture. “Yeah,” he murmured. “It is familiar.”
As the seconds passed, my body relaxed without me having to force it. I was leaning into him instead of sitting stiffly. My hands slowly unclenched. Neither of us said anything for what felt like a long time, and the quiet wasn’t uncomfortable. There was something actually peaceful about it, and I imagined if I laid my head on his shoulder, it would be bliss.
Then Cole broke the silence with something that was shattering in many different ways. “I do feel bad about what happened to you.”
My head whipped around. “What?” I started to scoot off.
Cole’s arm flexed around my waist and his other hand came down on my hip. “Let me explain, okay?”
Instinct demanded that I break his hold, but I remembered what my mother had said earlier, and truthfully, if I didn’t want to hear him out, why did I let him in my apartment?
Why was I sitting in his embrace?
I drew in a shallow breath. “Okay.”
His eyes searched mine. “I do . . . I do feel bad. I don’t know everything that happened to you.” He splayed his hand along the center of my back when I tensed. “I only know what I learned about the other cases, heard about you, and what I suspected. I don’t need to know every detail to feel horrible for what was done to you.”
I closed my eyes.
“And I struggled with guilt for a long time over that night. Still do,” he admitted quietly, and my eyes flew open. He continued before I could speak. “I’m also angry. When you disappeared, and damn, Sasha, we knew almost immediately that the Groom had you, I never felt such rage and helplessness.”
A knot formed in my throat, choking and bitter. “Cole . . .”
“I wanted to kill him myself,” he said, voice razor-sharp. “I swear to God, I would’ve if I could’ve gotten my hands on him. I would’ve torn that son of a bitch apart, skin and bone, because of what I knew he’d done.” The hand on my hip lifted to my cheek. “For what he took from you.”
Oh God, I couldn’t look away and I couldn’t stop him from saying what he was.
“For what he took from me,” he added, his cool blue eyes latched onto mine. “So, yeah, I feel bad and I still feel guilty at times, and I sure as fuck still want to murder that dead SOB, but what I feel about that night and how I feel about what happened to you is not why my ass is sitting here with you in my arms. It’s not why the damn moment I heard you were back in town, I got my ass over here as soon as I could.”
The knot in my throat was expanding, threatening to claw its way up.
Cole’s thumb smoothed over my jaw as he said, “None of that is why I had you over for dinner, and I’m going to let you in on a little secret here. While I am worried about you being here unprotected, I’m also using that fact to my advantage. It’s a damn good excuse to get you to spend time with me that I’m not going to waste.”
I stared at him, my lips parted on a soft inhale. I heard what he was saying and I got it, but I . . . I couldn’t believe it. Or maybe I wasn’t ready to believe it. “Why?”
His brows flew up. “Why?” he repeated with a slight shake of his head. “You know, I was going to take this slow with you. Get comfortable with each other again, however long that takes. Maybe make it to one more date.”
Date? Dinner at his place was a date?
Everyone else was right.
As usual.
“I know I have to take it slow with you,” he continued, his blue eyes vibrant behind his thick lashes. He stared at me more and then said, “Fuck it.”
Cole slid his hand into my hair, gathering it in his fingers as he tilted my chin back. A heartbeat passed and then his mouth was on mine.
Chapter 14
Cole was kissing me.
For a handful of seconds, I was shocked and completely unprepared, but that surprise quickly faded into the background. In an instant, I wasn’t thinking of anything other than him and what was happening at this very moment.
Every part of my being focused on the arm at my back and the hand in my hair, and on his lips against mine. Every sense became hyperaware of how soft and yet firm his lips were. This kiss was sweet and all too brief.
He lifted his mouth just enough that when he spoke, his lips brushed mine. “Does that kiss tell you that I pity you?”
“No,” I whispered, eyes closed. A shiver started, spreading out of control.
“Good.” His voice was even raspier. “Because that is the last thing I’m feeling right now.”
My pulse was pounding throughout my body, heavier and faster in certain points. My hands were still in my lap, but they itched to touch him. Maybe this was too soon, too quick, but I could remember the last time I kissed someone. Eight months ago maybe? His name was Greg. We’d met at a charity function Mr. Berg was hosting. I remembered Greg kissing me, but I couldn’t recall a single detail other than that. But this? This soft brush of Cole’s lips would be something I knew I would never forget, and I . . . I wanted more.
I needed more.
Giving in to the rising tide of sensations, I unfolded my arms and lifted my hands, placing them on his chest as I leaned in and closed the tiny distance between our mouths. I slid my hands to his shoulders and my fingers dug in, curling around his shirt.
I kissed Cole back.
He drew me tight against his hard chest and stomach, and the kiss . . . there was nothing brief or soft about it this time.
Cole tasted amazing, and everywhere our bodies met, heat flowed out, invading my muscles and veins. A deep, rumbling sound radiated out from the back of his throat and felt wonderful against my chest. The tips of my breasts tingled, and the kiss went deeper. My lips parted, and he kissed me like . . . like he never expected that he would do it again. And I might’ve dreamt and fantasized this, but I never expected it to happen.
The hand at my back slipped to my hip and his hold tightened. I shifted, wanting to get closer, and he seemed to be of the same mind, because at the same time I squirmed, he dropped both hands to my hips. He lifted as I moved, and then I was straddling him, a knee planted into the couch on either side of him. There wasn’t a break in kissing. My hands were sliding, my fingers sifting through the silky strands of his hair.
A moan curled its way out of my throat as his hips lined up with mine. Holy wow. I could feel him and that definitely was not pity. That was a whole lot of arousal. My heart rate sped up, and I melted into him, into the kiss.
“Fucking hell,” he groaned against my mouth. Both of us were breathing heavy when we came up for air. “I forgot this.”
My thoughts were spinning as I opened my eyes. “Forgot what?”
“How this felt.” He slid his other hand down my throat to the nape of my neck as his hips jerked under mine. “How you felt.”
Oh
my God.
He rested his forehead against mine. “How one fucking kiss makes me feel like a sixteen-year-old boy who’s never even been
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