Page 64 of Chokehold
I bypass my bedroom and walk on light feet to Cole’s room, carefully avoiding the creaky floorboards. It’s not as easy now that I’m older and pack a lot more muscle.
My brain screams at me to turn back, but like an addict on crack, I crave one more hit. Just one.
I pause outside his bedroom door and press my ear to the wood. It’s quiet on the other side. I should hope so; it’s in the dead of night.
Cole’s room is dark when the door creaks open. My heart pounds and sweat clings to my nape. Isn’t it funny how he sets me alight like this?
I pause at the threshold, seeing his sleeping form on the bed. Seconds pass while I listen to his breathing. Each soft exhale calms the storm.
Before I can change my mind, I walk deeper into the room. Just one more hit. One more taste.
Pausing at his bedside, I sweep my eyes over the muscles in his back. The quilt pools at his narrow waist, low enough to reveal the top of his boxers. I step closer and pause. Something sticks out from under the bed. Frowning, I crouch down to pull it out.
It’s Cole’s bag, and it’s unzipped.
Swallowing, I remove the mask and turn it over in my hands. It looks grotesque in the dark, and a chill slithers down my spine when I recall Cole chasing me—the sheer thrill of his pounding footsteps, every ragged breath that escaped my lungs.
I trail my thumb over the crack, and my lips curve. Cole’s a sneaky little fucker. What is it about this mask that allows him to hide from himself?
Intrigue wins out, and I slide it on before rising to my feet. Cole is still on his front, with his arms beneath the pillow. My breaths puff against the plastic as I watch him. It must be nice to enjoy the reprieve dreams allow. Meanwhile, I’ve spent the night haunted by his cruel words and clinging to some elusive hope that he would seek me out.
I hover with my hand inches from his shoulder blade before trailing my fingers over his warm skin.
Fuck me…
I hold my breath.
His muscles ripple beneath my hand, and he mumbles something unintelligible.
I wait until his breaths deepen, and then I glide my fingers higher and wrap them around the back of his neck. His pulse thrums and my cock takes notice.
I like how vulnerable he feels and how easy it would be to snap his neck. For once, he can’t hurt me, not unless I allow him to. My fingers twitch on his skin when I imagine pinning him down and making him regret shutting me out.
I bet he would sing a different tune then.
Cole sleeps like the dead, so shifting him onto his back and removing the quilt is surprisingly easy. Maybe he’s so used to sleeping beside someone that he’s no stranger to…
No, I squash that thought. The thought of him with Allie or anyone else makes me see red.
His dark hair falls over his brow, so I brush it away and stroke his jaw. My fingers drag over the scratch of his stubble, and I bite back a pained groan. I can’t stop touching him or marveling at how perfect he is beneath all that fear and anger, which he wields like sharp weapons to keep others at a safe distance. My heart pounds harder when I wrap my fingers around his throat. The urge is there to steal the last breath from his lips. Maybe then he’d wake up and fight me. I squeeze lightly, careful not to wake him.
His heartbeat kicks up, and I tilt my head, watching him through the holes in the mask. “You like to hide, brother?” I release his throat. “You think I won’t find you?”
Fuck…
I study his mussed hair and the expanse of his muscular chest. My eyes have adjusted to the darkness. If anything, the shadows cling to his skin like they’re a part of him.
Pressing my hands into the mattress, I bring my face close to his—close enough that my breath would skim his parted lips if it weren’t for the mask.
His pulse flutters in his neck, and his eyes move behind his eyelids. What is he dreaming about?
I wet my lips and trail my gaze over the expanse of his chest before pausing on the bulge inside his boxers. Cole is big, but I already knew that.
My mouth waters at the memory of his swollen dick.
No, Blaise.
Don’t fucking do it.
