I’d only been standing at the bar a few seconds when a bartender freed up and took my drinks order. I was in the middle of trying to think of ways to resist the attraction to Cole when I felt eyes on me. I turned my head to the right and found two guys around my age, maybe a little older, smiling at me. Although I glanced away quickly, my noticing them seemed to invite their attention.
They slid their drinks down the bar and came to a stop at my side. I very deliberately ignored them. It didn’t deter them.
“Having a nice night?” the one closest to me said.
“Yeah, thanks.”
“I’m Gordon. This is my mate Barry. What’s your name?”
I didn’t answer because I didn’t want to encourage them. As it was I could feel their eyes crawling all over me. I was wearing jeans and my olive green cami and matching cardy. My makeup was subtle, and I was wearing flat-heeled boots. There was nothing about my appearance that screamed I was out on the town. I had no idea why I’d attracted their attention, and frankly I didn’t care. There was nothing that turned me off more than guys who sat at bars and constantly hit on anything that moved. There was a desperation about it, a soullessness, that the romantic in me revolted against.
“Oh, come on, we’re harmless, sweetheart,” the other one said.
I frowned. “I’m not interested.”
The one farther away shrugged and began to retreat, but his friend actually moved closer to me. “Sounds like you’re having a bad day. I’m a really good listener.”
Eh . . . apparently not.
I snorted. “All evidence to the contrary.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I’m not interested.”
He laughed, like I’d said something funny. My eyebrows drew together in confusion.
“You look like that actress,” he said, shifting even closer. “That Australian actress. You look like her when she was younger. I had the biggest hard-on for her.”
Really?
Before I could follow up my look of disgust with a verbal “get lost,” a sudden heat engulfed me and a shadow fell over me. Two strong, tattooed arms caged me in as they came to rest on the bar at either side of mine, and a hard chest pressed against my back
I relaxed immediately and glanced up over my shoulder at Cole’s handsome face. Currently it was turned away from me as he glowered at the persistent barfly.
Although the friend instantly backed up even farther than he already had done, the “good listener” just stared dumbly at Cole.
Cole raised an eyebrow at him. “Which part of this doesn’t say ‘fuck off’ to you?”
The idiot studied Cole for a moment as if he was considering ignoring him, and then his brain finally seemed to compute what his eyes were telling him. Cole was bigger and much, much scarier than he was. He lowered his gaze. “Sorry, mate. Didn’t know she was taken.”
He shuffled off down the bar, already searching the pub for a new target.
Cole bent his head, his lips brushing my ear. “You okay?”
Unable to form a coherent sentence with him pressed up against me, I nodded.
Seeming to sense that, Cole hesitated a second. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”
My pulse raced with that feeling of anticipation I’d had earlier. “Yes. But not like you think.”
I heard his sharp intake of breath and braced myself.
His lips were at my ear again. “Do you want me, Shannon?”
My legs began to tremble. “Yes.”
Cole exhaled, as though he was relieved, and to my surprise he buried his nose in the crook of my neck, relaxing into me. The scratch of the bristle on his cheeks against my skin caused tingling in all my feminine places. He breathed me in and lifted his head just as the bartender served up the drinks.
It broke the moment between us.
Cole stepped away from me and I shivered at the loss of his heat.
To my confusion Cole didn’t say another word as I paid for the drinks and we returned to the table.
He sat next to me, drinking his pint like nothing had happened. I stewed in uncertainty, ignoring our friends’ questioning looks (they’d obviously seen our interaction at the bar) and sipping my drink. Tony didn’t take long to dispel the awkwardness by launching into a story about a biker bar he once went to in Glasgow.
I tried to pay attention, laughing at all the right bits, but it was difficult.
After I finished the last sip of my rum and Coke, I put my empty glass on the table and wondered how rude it would be to leave early.
Apparently Cole didn’t care if it was rude.
As soon as my glass hit the table, he pushed his chair back, grabbed my hand, and stood up, pulling me gently up with him. Our friends went instantly quiet. Cole gave them a nod and began leading me away. I had just enough time to snatch up my purse and throw Rae a wide-eyed look that was part “holy heck” and part giddy, before Cole had us outside the bar.
I looked at him for direction, but he was focused on finding us a taxi. His hand curled tight around mine, he strode quickly down the street, and his arm stretched up as soon as a cab with a light on appeared.
He opened the car door for me and I climbed in, my stomach just a flurry of butterflies. Cole settled in next to me, his right side pressed against my left, and he entwined the fingers of his right hand in my left before placing our clasped hands on his thigh. He gave the taxi driver his address and I immediately felt a quiver between my legs.
This was going to happen.
I was going to have sex with Cole Walker.
Hot, exciting, sexy images filled my head, so by the time the car pulled up outside Cole’s building I was already ready for him.
It was easy to sense Cole’s impatience as he practically threw money at the taxi driver and hurried us out of the cab and up the stairs to his flat. At no point did he let go of my hand as he opened his door and led me down his hallway to a room at the end of it.
The master bedroom.
Like the rest of his flat, it had high ceilings, deep coving, and a gorgeous bay window. Blinds were drawn down over them, giving us privacy. In the center of the room was a king-sized bed with a chunky, masculine walnut frame. In the corner of the room near the door to the en suite was a contemporary black leather reading chair. The walls were painted a warm mocha and buttercream, and the plush carpet beneath my feet was dark chocolate. Above the headboard was a huge black-and-white photograph taken from the backseat of a classic American convertible. The driver was turned in profile. He wore dark aviators and smoke billowed from his lips as he seemed to stare out at the world in boredom.
Beyond the car was a deep canyon, giving the impression that the car was mere inches from the edge.
The whole room was cool and sexy and completely Cole.
My eyes flew to him as he let go of my hand and walked over to the end of the bed. He turned and looked at me, almost taunting me with the heat in his eyes.
We both knew we were about to cross the line I’d drawn between us a long time ago.
Before we crossed that line, before there was no turning back, I had to be sure we were on the same page. “I like you, Cole. I do. And clearly I’m attracted to you . . . but you have to know there’s a possibility that I won’t ever learn to trust you. And you said you don’t do casual . . .”
Cole’s answer was to shrug out of his jacket and throw it on a nearby chair. His fierce gaze delved deep inside me. “Shannon, there is nothing casual about how I feel about you. There hasn’t been since the day I stepped out of Ellie and Adam’s house and found you on the stoop. I get you don’t trust me and I get why, but I want you to give me the chance to change that. I think there’s something here that’s worth all the effort.”
“Cole,” I said as my lips trembled, my eyes misting. I felt too much, just too, too much . . . “I wish I’d never left you that day.”