Page 88 of Devilry

“Message me when you get to your dorm,” I call out to her retreating form.

“You know it,” she shouts as she walks out the door.

As the silence sinks in, I realize I’m here all alone, when I could be with Cole. Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I open my messages and type one out to him. Changing my mind, I delete the text and scroll till I get to the Uber app instead.

* * *

I hope Cole likes surprises.

Walking up his stoop, the nerves begin to creep in and I begin to feel a little self-conscious.What if he has someone over?

Ripping off the band-aid, I knock on the door and wait one whole agonizing minute before a bare-chested Cole opens up the door.

He beams, surprise and excitement written all over his handsome face. Knowing that look is all for me, pride fills me up and swallows me whole.

I tip my chin at his naked torso. “I see you’re ready for me.”

“What are you doing here?” he asks, still smiling.

“My schedule freed up.”

“Lucky me.” He takes hold of my hand and tugs me inside. The second the door closes, he pulls me to his chest. Hands cup the sides of my face as he brings my lips to his.

Slow and wet, he kisses me like we have all the time in the world. He kisses me with purpose. He kisses me with promise. “I’ve missed your mouth so much,” he murmurs.

Returning the sentiment, I grab his face and kiss him with everything I have. “It missed you too.”

A few long seconds pass as we stand there in the middle of his foyer just holding and kissing one another. He pulls back to look at me. “Have you eaten? I’ve got groceries and could cook something for you.”

I rest my hand on his cheek and shake my head. “I’m perfect now, thank you.”

Euphoria washes over me as I’m filled with warmth at his attentiveness and consideration. The more time we spend together, the more it shows that this is beyond just physical attraction.

Wordlessly, I walk around him, kick off my shoes, and head straight for his stairs. Two at a time, he’s right on my heels as I stop in the middle of his bedroom doorway.

“You don’t waste any time, do you?” he teases, wrapping his arms around my waist.

We stand in the doorway and I take in his new, and very large, bed. But surprisingly that is not what catches my attention.

“How the hell does one man have this many clothes?”

He drops his chin to my shoulder. “You’re going to have to stand in line with all the other people that give me shit about my wardrobe.”

“It’s a mini department store.”

“It is not.”

I whirl around. “You have a shopping addiction, don’t you?”

“It’s more like a ‘I don’t like throwing things out’ problem,” he admits.

“You’re a hoarder?”

“Hoarder is such a horrible word. I refuse to label myself as one.”

“Cole, you don’t need labels.” I gesture to the messy bed. “This speaks for itself.”

“Well, since you’re here, want to help me unpack?” he asks.

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