I curl up on the bench with my arms wrapped around my legs and my chin propped on my knees, my eyes dull. I can’t believe it. Still in a state of shock.
Nate had attacked me.
Actually attacked me.
He’d planned on raping me.
I knew he was into kinky shit and I knew that he had hit me out of anger but I had no idea he was capable of this. Had I? Maybe this makes me a stupid woman, but it never even crossed my mind. I just thought he needed more than what I could give him. I think I’m going to need to quiet myself and really think about my life and my relationships and why I feel the need to put myself in bad places.
Sliding my chin over my knee, I turn to look at Nate. He’s twisted on the bed staring a hole through me with his mouth curled up in an ugly sneer. His eyes arctic glaciers full of pure unadulterated hatred chilling me clean to the bone making me shudder on a gasp.
Cooper’s mouth tightens as he glances over his shoulder to see what’s alarmed me. His muscles tense and once again his anger radiates from his pores with an energy that charges the air around me. “Give me a minute.” And before standing, he swoops down and gives me a quick, hard, closed-mouth kiss that shocks me to the core. Too brief to actually analyze but I soak it in just the same and file it away for future consideration. My eyes follow his movements as he walks into the hall. He returns a couple of minutes later with a uniformed officer.
“You’re going to press charges,” Cooper instructs. He doesn’t move his eyes until I nod in agreement and then he smiles. His smile distracts, showing his deep dimples and crinkling the lines around his eyes once again. My breath hitches as I’m caught by the sheer magnetic force of him. My belly flutters. At that moment, every butterfly in the world decides to migrate to that part of my anatomy, their wings fluttering uncontrollably in my stomach.
“Angel?” Nate spits out accompanied by a noise that is a reflection of his disgust. His hostile gaze runs over me slowly, inch by inch and with his words the fluttering wings of the butterflies turns to waves of sickness. I press my hand to my belly to ease the roiling bitter tasting acid that threatens to rise.
“Fucking cock-tease, more like it.”
“Shut the fuck up, Burton,” Cooper says tight-lipped and with those words, his demeanor changes in the blink of an eye. The tender man transforms into a frothing fighter. “Don’t say another goddamned word to her,” he adds walking over to the bed to release Nate. He jerks him roughly to his feet handing him over to the officer who wastes no time dragging him out the door and out of my sight. I let out a ragged breath.
Cooper pivots with his head set to one side, his brow furrowed, studying me for a moment before making a move towards me.
I can’t help but watch every move he makes, powerless to pull my eyes away from him. Loose-limbed and confident. He’s such a beautiful man. It seems weird to me that I notice so soon after what Nate’s just done to me. But it’s like looking at a rainbow after a destructive storm. I see his beauty as more than just his outward appearance. Goodness radiates from his pores. From the glinting gold flecks in his eyes, to his lips, to the words he speaks, everything’s good.
His compassionate expression turns serious. “Let’s get you back to bed, Angel.” That’s all he says. He stretches out his arm and holds out his hand. I slide mine into his, lowering my feet the floor, and let him pull me to my feet. He surprises me by tucking my hand in the crook of his arm, like gentlemen used to do. I jerk my eyes to his and there’s something there that I can’t name so I lower my eyes to where his hand covers mine. He slowly escorts me back to the bed with his fingers brushing gently over the back of my hand as we walk the short distance. He does it almost as an afterthought, as though he’s trying to calm me like a frightened animal.
Tipping my head back, I notice he’s deep in thought. I don’t even think he realizes his fingers are caressing mine even though I feel every single stroke, every callus, and ridge. The tension releases from my muscles while we make our way across the room. Goose bumps rise, shivers course throughout my body but this time they aren’t from the cold or from fear, they’re from him. I apparently knock him from his deep thoughts with that uncontrolled action.
“Cold, Angel?” He rubs his hand more vigorously over the top of mine. “I’ll get you warm in a minute.”
I feel my cheeks heat with a fiery blush as his hands land at my waist to lift me onto the edge of the mattress. He moves my legs in an almost clinical fashion once again. Not even a hint of desire flickers in his eyes as he tucks me into bed. Once he settles me comfortably upon the pillow, he plumps it several times before giving it a satisfied look. I glance up and then wish I hadn’t. He’s right here, so close, so warm, so full of strength and compassion. It’s like looking into his penetrating dark brown eyes offers a glimpse into his soul. Their depth makes me feel naked and bruised emotionally, not just physically. That I can feel anything at all astounds me.
“Talk to me, Angel.” He picks up my hand engulfing it with his larger one.
For the first time in a matter of months, I believe I might be able to let down my guard again, however briefly, and truly be free. I swallow with difficulty as he turns me until I face him.
“Tell me what happened to you, Angel.” His tone’s soft and cajoling lulling me into a safe place. He uses his finger to raise my chin when I refuse to look him in the eyes. “Tell me.”
His eyes pin my red-rimmed gaze to his and my body tenses. My hearts thumps erratically in my chest. I want to say something but don’t know how. Being alone with him makes me nervous and makes my mind dwell on things that have no place in my thoughts at the moment.
“I know I’m basically a stranger to you.” His warm eyes roam over my face. His hand slides along my throat and palms my neck, his thumb buffing back and forth over the hollow where my pulse beats rapidly and my skin prickles with awareness.
I wonder if my soul is wounded beyond healing. I wonder if I will ever have what I want. I can’t bring myself to form the words that I think he wants to hear.
“Talk, Angel.”
My bottom lip quivers so I’m forced to bite down hard to minimize its movement. Heat rises in my face as emotions bubble and tears threaten to spill.
“Don’t cry,” he orders. His rough palm scrapes gently over my cheek and my eyes snap up, quickly lowering at the tenderness of his gaze.
My head moves from side to side in tired arcs and I expel an exasperated sigh that’s almost a chuckle. “You can’t order me not to cry, Cowboy,” I murmur sleepily. “No matter how big of a hotshot sheriff, tough guy, Dom, whatever you consider yourself right now. You don’t wield that much power.” I suddenly feel so out of it, what I said doesn’t even register.
“I can sure try, smart mouth.”
“Can’t stop you from trying, that’s for dang sure.” I let out a breath and burrow deeper into the pillow but keep one eye on him.
“Crying women make me edgy,” he admits after a few beats of silence, not taking his eyes off my face. He says this in a low tone as if he’s revealing one of his deepest, darkest secrets which makes me giggle.
“Bless your heart.” That makes him smile. “That must be an occupational hazard in your line of work, Cowboy. I’m sure you’ve seen a lot of crying women.” I stare into his eyes, my lips twitching.
He lifts his broad shoulders and with a rueful twist to his lips, he states, “Doesn’t mean I like it.” He keeps his eyes trained on my face as though he’s watching for a sign, any sign that can give him some more insight into what makes me tick. His thumb strokes distractedly over my jaw where his hand cradles my cheek. “Means I put up with it for the sake of the job, which I just so happen to have a deep affinity for.”
I shift, nuzzling into his hand. “Okay.” My eyes drift tiredly over his face down the thick corded column of his throat to the tufts of dark hair visible just above the crew-neck of his T-shirt. I slowly return my gaze to his worried golden-brown eyes. My cheeks heat.
A small smile plays at the corners of my mouth only to be interrupted by the jaw popping yawn that makes my eyes water.
“Pardon me.”
His eyes smile, crinkling more at the corners and golden lights flash. “I hadn’t planned on rescuing anyone today, Angel.” He says it like it really is a surprise, loosening his tongue enhancing his country twang. His tone reflects his surprise like he hadn’t planned on doing anything heroic at all. His hand glides over my hair, smoothing out the tangled strands over my shoulders, his fingers playing in my thick, fringy bangs.
I press back, smiling gratefully up at him. “I hadn’t planned on needing rescuing.”
Cooper arches a brow. “Good thing I was available.”
My lips lift appreciatively. “Yep, good thing.” My eyes flutter closed. I force them back open and blink. It takes a moment for him to come back into focus again.
He pulls a card out of his pocket and flips it over, scratching something on the back. “My number.” He holds it up between two fingers before placing it on the tray beside the bed. “Call me anytime, Angel. For anything. Anything at all.”
My eyes drift closed again as if to prevent the rush of feelings that want to race through me.
He bends over, pushing my bangs out of the way, and places a soft kiss on my forehead. “I’m going to get a nurse in here, okay?”
“Okay.”
He pauses and touches his mouth to mine. My eyes pop open wide and my heart racing a mile a minute.
“I’ll see ya in the morning, Angel,” he whispers against my lips. His finger slides along my jaw as he walks away.
“Later, Cowboy."
Too bad my eyes fluttered closed or I would’ve been able to see the brilliant smile that brightened his face and deepened his dimples right before he walked out of the room.
Chapter Eight
A lady must always remember that the art of pleasing and entertaining
Gentlemen is infinitely more ornamental than laces, ribbons or diamonds
My eyes open when I realize I’m no longer alone. Crap.
At first I stiffen, tightness creeps across my shoulders as I brace myself for the worst until it hits me that this isn’t the same unpleasant feeling like before.
It takes a moment before it hits me that I’m no longer resting on my side but on my back with my body surrounded by a blanket of delicious warmth. What I find most interesting is that I’m not afraid. It’s as if my body knew it was him along.
The immense heat almost overwhelms in its intensity as it permeates my hospital gown comforting me. His muscled forearms rest at my waist with me propped against the hard wall of his chest between his spread thighs. An excited buzz runs up my back with the feel of his hardness against my softness. I stay silent stiff in his arms, waiting to see what he does next. I don’t want him to realize how good it makes me feel being in his arms and that he makes all the bad seem to disappear. How had I not felt the bed dip or heard the sheets rustle? I don’t know how he managed all that maneuvering without waking me, but he did. His right arm snakes even further around my waist pulling me back even tighter against his body and my breathing changes when his other hand brushes across my forehead as he pushes my tangled bangs out of my eyes.
“It’s me, Angel,” he breathes out in a rumbly, sexy purr that wafts over the top of my head. That’s when I cuddle into his warmth and hold back a chuckle. As if I could ever forget a man like Cooper.
“Cowboy,” I mumble still a little groggy, burrowing even deeper, pressing my back against his front, it feels so nice. I’ve never been so aware of a man. His physicality encompasses in ways no others have, even at the strangest of moments. Moments when I probably should be cowering in a corner afraid of what might happen next instead of fantasizing about the gorgeous lawman who’d snuck into my hospital room in the middle of the night and holds me in his strong arms as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.
His chuckle reverberates deliciously in my ear. “Yeah, Angel.” His hand splays over my belly and just stays. He doesn’t move, doesn’t rub, doesn’t do anything but touch me and it’s wonderful. I turn my nose into his chest. He smells so good, warm, masculine, spicy. If it wasn’t bottled, it really should be. The company that did that could make a fortune. I inhale deeply committing his scent to memory. I never want to forget.
“Are you smelling me?” His raspy chuckle fills my ear again.
I roll my eyes even though he can’t see me do it. It still makes me feel better about getting caught in the act of smelling him. “What can I say, you smell good after the odor of hospital disinfectant drifted into my nose all day long.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he chuckles low in my ear.
I inhale again. “You smell a thousand times better.” I lift my chin to study his shadowy profile. “What are you doing here this late at night anyway?” I arch my brow. “Shouldn’t you be at home sleeping?”
“Found it damn hard to fall asleep after what happened to you tonight.” A brief frown flickers over his features making deep lines across his forehead. “Needed to check on you. How’re you doing?” His question comes out gravelly mixed with a hint of worry.
“Worried about me?” I feel like I’m glowing. I feel weird thinking that I just want to be with him yet I have no desire to talk about the yucky stuff. So, I try to pull out of his embrace. I move cautiously, trying to extricate myself from his arms without him realizing, but they just tighten even more. Impossible.
“Lie still and enjoy, Angel.”
He buries his face in my hair and I feel the warmth of his breath on my neck .
He makes a show of inhaling deeply making me smile. “You smell nice too,” he adds with a chuckle.
Now it’s my turn to frown. “So not possible. I’m sure I’m a filthy mess.” Why does my voice have to sound desperate and breathy? I scrunch my nose. “I must stink to high heaven.”
He chuckles. “Vanilla and honey.” He nuzzles my neck and I jerk at the touch of his lips behind my ear. I know with one hundred percent accuracy that had I been standing, I would’ve fallen to the ground in a giant heap.
“Do you smell all your accident victims?” I look up over the top of my head with a grin only to catch him frowning. “Or for that matter, sneak into their beds at night?”
He doesn’t respond to my questions, he just asks his again, “How are you doing?”
I guess he repeats it just in case I’d forgotten the question. I hadn’t. Just trying to avoid giving him an answer.
“Fine.” The sound of my voice is little more than a whisper.
His arms tighten and his cheek presses against my ear. “Okay fine, or bad fine?” he whispers back, keeping the tone intimate, private, and light which I like way too much.
I shrug knowing he can feel the movement because I don’t think my body could be plastered any more tightly against his. “I don’t know fine?”
“Good enough for now.”
I let out an audible breath, grateful that he’s going to let that answer slide for now. Once again he brushes his hand over my hair playing and combing through the sleep tangled strands. He separates the strands with his fingertips and brushes over them again making my scalp tingle. He sits quietly for several minutes just playing with my hair.
I look up at him again. “Cooper?”
He gets all serious. “I’m so sorry that Nate was able to get to you this afternoon.” His eyes close briefly and during that moment I miss them.
I turn my head and look up at the ceiling. “It wasn’t your fault.” I swallow hard. I feel his eyes back on me and my body relaxes. “I didn’t want to believe that he would do—that to me,” I say quietly, but somewhere deep down I think I must have known. I’d felt it. Something sinister. Every time he’d looked at me I’d felt something—evil.
Cooper tilts his head so that he can see into my eyes. “Johnson told me he stopped in and took your statement after I left this afternoon.”
I no
d. “Woke me up.” I pout, thinking back on the untimely intrusion. Just when I was finally able to fall into a deep sleep he’d knocked. “I was actually having a good dream at the time.”
He squeezes me to him, barking out a soft laugh that I find thoughtful since his mouth is right at my ear. “What were you dreaming about?”
I lower my eyes and feel a blush steal over my face.
He holds up a hand. “Okay, you don’t have to tell me.” His mouth twists into a wry grin and his eyes narrow. “Can I guess though?”
I push at his chest. “Cowboy.” I drawl out, but don’t remove my hands. His mouth broadens into a full-fledged grin. Placing his hand over mine, he holds it tightly against the spot on his chest just above his heart. It beats steady and firm as it thumps against my palm.
“Fine.” A comical smile crosses his face. I’ll resort to your standard answer. Fine. Fine. Fine.”
“Funny.” I jab my elbow in his ribs. “Merrick called and told me that Nate had hurt some other women at the club and they hadn’t come forward because they were afraid.” I’m not for sure how much I really want to know but I feel as if I should know. It hasn’t helped me to live in the dark. It has only worsened the horrible decisions I’ve made.
“He’s no longer welcome at that club anymore.”
“Doesn’t matter, I didn’t like the club anyway.” I finally lift my eyes. “Is he going to go to jail?”
A scowl crosses Cooper’s face before he answers, “I don’t know. Probably not. Unless we can get others to come forward and press charges.”
“Oh.” I pull at my bottom lip with my teeth because I don’t know what to think of that bit of information.
“It’s just the way it is,” he states matter-of-factly, with a hint of irritation lacing his words. “First time offender. He’ll get out on bail. Probably plead out especially if the others won’t come forward.” His tone’s somber.
“Oh,” I repeat, but hearing that he’ll basically get what accounts for a slap on the wrist because he hadn’t been caught before does something to me which I try to push down deep. I don’t want Cooper to know how my soul aches. I push back the ache growing in my throat at his words and ask, “Merrick and Colt know everything?”
When You Only Need To Ask (The House of Sin: The Beginning) Page 8
