Page 48 of Beautiful Secrets
17
Mika
Bright morning sun makes the hotel room’s windows glow. Who pulled back the curtains? Or have they been standing open since yesterday?
I am alone on the bed, although Cole fell asleep with me last night after we ate and watched another movie. I roll onto my back, dimly aware that I’ve lost feeling in one of my arms. Wow, I must have been out cold. I sigh and, as if on cue, I suddenly feel wetness between my legs.
Oh God, did my period just start?
I sit up in a rush, hop off the bed, and dash to the bathroom. Cole left me untied, but I am not sure why. Does he think things are different now?
I breathe another sigh—this time in relief—when I tug down my boxers.
Not blood, just a damp spot on the fabric.
After using the toilet, I splash water on my face and rake fingers through my short, messy white hair before leaving the bedroom.
As I step into the living area, Cole calls out, “Hungry?” from the kitchen.
I turn, staring across the room at my hot-as-sin captor as he leans his hip against the counter and sips at a cup of coffee.
He wears a black vest similar to mine and a pair of dark sweat pants. His hair is tousled, and he is now in desperate need of a shave.
I point at the cup. “Is there one for me?”
He shrugs. “Sure.” He turns his back and heads for a coffee machine on the other side of the kitchen.
I glance at the elevator. Without the keycard, it is just a pretty gate—no way I’ll be able to get out. Then my gaze touches the intercom. Cole took the knife out of it, leaving only wreckage behind.
No wonder he didn’t bother tying me up. Where the hell could I go?
Ha. My lips curl into a sarcastic smile. And here I told him the only way out of my old house was through the back—in a hearse—or out the front in a man’s arms.
Now I am right back where I started. Only, this time, it is in Cole’s arms, or over the side of the balcony.
They’d have to scrape me off the sidewalk.
I hoist myself onto a kitchen stool and watch Cole’s back as he makes me a cup of coffee.
I feel like I’ve been run through the wringer—but in a good way. I am relaxed. Mellow. And, thankfully, I’m not sick to my stomach like I was yesterday.
Maybe it was the sex. Okay, well, the almost-sex. It was so good, maybe it reset my brain or something. Is that even a thing?
I’ve never felt anything like I did last night. And the weirdest thing is, afterward, Cole wrapped me in his arms and we fell asleep for a few hours before our hunger woke us.
He didn’t say much while we ate, but it definitely didn’t feel like a hostage situation anymore.
It felt…familiar. Comfortable, almost.
How is that possible when he is a stranger?
But even though it makes no logical sense, does that mean I must be miserable the entire time he holds me captive? I am no martyr.
When Cole hands me a cup of coffee and gives me a smile sexy enough to make me tingle down there, I blush and try to hide my face behind the mug.
I take a sip, and my eyes flutter closed as I breathe out an appreciative sigh.
“I love it when you do that,” he says.
