Page 95 of Silent Threat
Cole was there then, so fast she barely saw him move, and the next second she was enfolded in his strong arms, his lips pressed to the top of her head.
She lifted her chin so she could finish the story. She looked into his tumultuous dark eyes. “The second year, as he was getting nearer and nearer to my private parts, I figured out that when he reached that far, he was going to open me up and make me bleed another way.”
Cole’s arms tightened around her.
“Then one day,” she said, “while Randy was at work, my mom packed us up and moved us away without any explanation.”
“Do you think she knew?”
“I don’t think she did. She’d never caught us. After we moved, she never said a word about suspecting anything. I think they had a falling-out about something else.”
Cole kissed her forehead, then when she closed her eyes, he kissed her eyelids. She felt doubly wrung out, first from their physical intimacy, and now by the stress of reliving the past.
Then Cole pressed a kiss to her mouth, but even that chaste kiss was too much suddenly. He felt so right in her bed, with his arms around her, yet she couldn’t refuse to acknowledge how wrong it all was. He was apatient.
She pushed against his chest until he released her and pulled back.
“Annie?”
“This is not right. Even if you’re checking out, it’s still not right. You need to leave my room. This is completely inappropriate. I apologize for what happened before.”
Thank God, he didn’t ask for what, because she wasn’t sure if she could say,I apologize for having an orgasm on your fingers.
She felt raw and stripped bare. Too much had happened in the last hour between them. She was unsure about most of it, except for one thing: she shouldn’t have let him into her room to start with.
“It’s all right.” He moved to hug her again. “Annie, listen—”
“No.” She scrambled off the bed, putting distance between them.
A determined light came into Cole’s eyes. “I need to tell you something.”
“There’s nothing to say.”
If he wouldn’t go, then she would.
Annie buttoned her pants and ran.
Chapter Twenty-Three
KELLY MADE ANNIEchicken soup from their grandmother’s recipe. They bundled up on Kelly’s couch with their bowls, surrounded by pillows and blankets as if in a nest, and watchedBridget Jones’s Baby.
The one-bedroom condo was a showplace. Kelly’s house had had to be sold to pay for the divorce, the leftovers split with Ricky, her cheating-ass ex. Kelly had rallied by buying this condo, doing a full renovation almost all by herself, and making it so resplendent, home magazines should be standing in line to feature the place.
Serene, pale-taupe shades dominated the color scheme, accented by lots of French linen, bouquets of live lavender, and on the walls, black-and-white art photos of Paris, London, and Budapest.
Annie sank into the calm, sophisticated energy of the place as the TV flashed image after image of the delectable Darcy.
They’d both seen the movie before, so they talked about Cole over Hollywood dialogue.
“You’re falling in love with him?” Kelly wanted confirmation.
“We can’t have a relationship.”
“Is he married?”
“No. He is a patient.”
“And there is no way around that? You said he was quitting.”
