Page 124 of Tortured Tones

But as I stepped past Cole’s door, my heart ached. I had to make sure he was okay.

I knocked on the door. Beckett opened it.

“Is he alright?” My voice snagged in my throat.

“Why don’t you ask him?” He held the door wider. “I’m calling it a night.”

I peered into the room. Cole sat on the sofa, his head down. Hannah and Charlotte were nowhere to be seen, no doubt in their room asleep. A half-empty bottle of vodka sat on the coffee table. A full glass dangled from Cole’s fingertips. I wanted to go to him. Comfort him. Be there for him. But I couldn’t. My heart wasn’t in sync with my head. “Becks?”

“Ava?” Concern softened Beckett’s voice.

“I’m in trouble, aren’t I?” I whispered.

“It’s okay to care about someone.”

My heart ached and burned. “It’s more than that.”

“I know.” Beckett dipped his chin.

Shit. “Can I have five minutes with him. I just want to make sure he’s alright.”

“I’m off duty.” He shrugged. “So are you. I’m going to bed. Take all the time you need.” He eased past me into the hallway.

The heavy door slowly closed, but I caught it with my hand. My heart beat way too fast. “Becks? Will you stay?”

“Do you want me to?”

“No . . . yes . . . no . . . Fuck.”

Beckett threw me a warm smile and patted my arm. “You’ll be fine. I’ve got your back, no matter what. Call me if you need me, otherwise...I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Okay.” I managed to nod. “Night.”

I tightened my grip on the door’s edge. So much turmoil spiraled through my brain. I should leave. Walk away. Not get involved. But I was. I cared about Charlotte—and Cole—more than I ever should.

I sucked in a deep breath, stepped into the suite and let the door close behind me.

Cole looked up.

Our eyes met. He drained his vodka and rose to his feet, looking sexy as sin in his tight black T-shirt and jeans.

“Hey?” I tucked my hands in my back pockets and took tentative steps toward him.

The charge between us sparked.

In three strides, he’d closed the gap between us. He caught the back of my head and crushed his lips to mine. Oh, God. His lips shouldn’t taste this good after sweating it out for hours playing a show and searching for Charlotte. I splayed my hands against his chest, willing myself to stop but failing. Licking, nipping, and tasting him, I moaned against his onslaught. Our hot breaths entwined, tying us together.

Shit. I dug my fingers into his biceps and took a step back. “Cole. Stop.”

“Fuck!” As he wiped his hand over his mouth, regret and fire flickered through his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

I placed my hand against his stampeding heart. “Is Charlotte okay? Are you?”

“Yeah, thanks to you.”

“And my team.” I clutched his hand and gave it a squeeze.

“Can’t you take credit for anything?” He linked our fingers and drew me closer.

---