Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80052 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80052 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Something warm and soft gets draped over my arm. Not a blanket . . . a T-shirt. His T-shirt from earlier. He’s giving it back to me.
My nose stings like I might cry.
I tug it off my arm so I can clutch it against my chest. Then I wait for him to say something more, to tease me about it in a harsh way that will make me want to throw the T-shirt across the room and be done with it. But he stays silent, and it’s louder than anything he could have said, any truth he might have revealed. I remember the conversation we had before the lightning strike, and into the dark hotel room, I let him know, “I believe you about Todd. I’m sorry I didn’t trust you before.”
Then I turn to face him. I can’t see him; it’s too dark.
I can’t hear him breathing either. The storm is still going outside, a relentless downpour. Thunder rumbles right over us. Is he sleeping? I worry. Am I alone in this?
Then his hand reaches out to close the gap between us. His warm palm finds my biceps, then my forearm—and eventually his hand slides down until it takes mine. He drags my hand to the center of the bed, where he laces our fingers together, and he squeezes. His grip is so large. I’ve known that. I’ve felt it before, but somehow, right now, with nothing else to focus on, I’m memorizing its weight, the smooth skin versus the rough calluses, the long fingers . . .
We could scoot together and touch, kiss, all of it. I can practically feel the charge in the air; a cascade of goose bumps tingles up my legs and arms. The moment hangs in suspension, but I’m too shy to scoot closer and, maybe, so is he. Still, as he keeps ahold of my hand, I can feel this tight thing unfurling in my chest. It’s not an epiphany; it feels more like coming into consciousness, holding a mirror up to something that’s been there the whole time. There is no way around it, it seems.
I want Cole.
Chapter Nineteen
PAIGE
Awareness trickles in slowly the next morning. I make note of the soft pillow beneath my cheek. The sleepy heaviness still clinging to my limbs. It’s relatively quiet now that the rain has stopped. The sun filtering through the window is what must have woken me up. We never did close the drapes last night; there was no need. Cole is still in bed. I know because he has me squeezed up against his chest the same way I was clutching his T-shirt last night. I’m his teddy bear.
His arm is a tight band around my waist. It’s like I’m locked into a roller coaster, not going anywhere.
And then . . .
Then I realize that Cole’s hand is flat against my stomach, the edge of his pinky finger innocently dipped beneath the waistband of my panties. My butt fits into the groove of his hips, and though I try not to notice, it’s impossible not to feel how hard he is. I mean, he is absolutely rigid against my butt.
Long and thick.
Realizing this, I bite my lip and turn to press my face into my pillow because I’m so inappropriate! I should be hauled off to jail!
Stop thinking about it!
Cole’s hand shifts and slides up. Ugh, I love the way it feels on my bare stomach just before he pulls it away and rolls onto his back.
He makes a noise, a morning groan that makes me feel like an absolute perv because even that’s somehow sexy.
I gain just enough courage to peer over my shoulder to see him dig the heels of his hands into his eyes as he blinks away the last vestiges of sleep. After, he tilts his head to look at me.
Our eyes lock, then I betray us both by looking down.
He only then realizes the problem at hand.
The very big problem.
Another groan, and then he sits up.
He doesn’t bother making an excuse about how it happens to all guys and that it doesn’t mean anything. He’s not even embarrassed, and why should he be?
If I were a dude and I was packing heat like that in my pants, good luck trying to force me into clothing. I’d be walking around nude from the waist down.
Cole, meanwhile, absolutely never let on this whole time!
The sneaky bastard.
“How did you sleep?” he asks.
“Oh . . . good.”
A sudden urge to stretch washes over me, and I don’t resist. I’m a lazy cat reaching my hands up toward the headboard, flexing and then curling my toes. It feels so good. Cole watches me while I do it, like I’m putting on a show for him. I mean . . . I wasn’t, not technically. But I like the way it feels when his eyes are on me, hooded and dark.