Page 34 of The War Revision
I stare at the hand outstretched in front of me for a couple of seconds. Then my brain seems to operate again and my fingers lift and grab on to his. I let out a long breath. Touching him feels so familiar. So right.
“We need to take care of these, too.” He’s looking at my knuckles. They are bloody and puffy. A memory of a guy in a dimmed street, taking my punches flashes for a moment before my eyes.
“Fuck, I’m so drunk.”
“You don’t say.” Cole pulls me out of the chair and wraps an arm around my waist. My face falls on his shoulder, and I breathe his rich scent, humming contently.
I walk with my hand stroking his bare back. So smooth and warm. We enter his bedroom. “Why is the room spinning?”
All of a sudden, Cole’s arms are both around me. “Steady.” The concern in his voice confuses me. But the feel of his body against mine stokes the fire inside me.
“Are you okay?” I ask him, cupping his cheek.
“I’m not the one sporting bruises and swollen knuckles,” he grumbles. Did he just kiss my palm?
“Why are you grinning?” He smiles back at me. Fuck, those dimples, I brush one with my fingers.
“Am I? Hmm. You’re beautiful.”
We stare at each other, his eyes turning dark. I know that look.
The room suddenly spins again. My arm slides from his face, and I feel myself falling backward.
I hear Cole cursing, and next a soft surface appears under me. A bed. Smells like him.
“M’kay,” I state, looking up at the white ceiling willing the walls to stop shifting.
“No shower, then.”
I hear Cole puttering around and then his face looms over me. He delicately lifts my hand and starts dabbing a wet towel over my knuckles.
“Are you going to puke all over my bed?” he asks me without taking his eyes off his task. A lock of blond hair has fallen on his forehead and I feel the urge to sweep it back.
“This is the first time I’ve been in your room.” My eyes flick around, but I only register heavy dark curtains and soft blue and brown furnishings.
“Yeah,” he says after a while. He’s rubbing some cream on my hands now.
“I expected fire and smoke, bones from human sacrifices. This is,”nice, “boring.”
Cole doesn’t seem to want to engage in our usual banter. “Do you mind telling me why you are here?”
“Keys,” I tell him again. “Can’t find them.”
Cole hums and then starts pulling my t-shirt up. “I need to check your side.” Together we manage to take the fabric off, but the movement hurts like a bitch. He pushes an ice pack on my jaw, making me hiss. “Hold it.”
I do as he says and let him look at and poke my torso. “Can you breathe easily?” he finally asks.
“Yeah. Fine.” My eyes are closed. Exhaustion is slowly creeping over my body.
But I need to take off the rest of my clothes. Can’t sleep in them. My feet are bare. Cole must have taken off my shoes and socks. I open the button on my jeans and lower the zip. I tut as it gets stuck. “Here. Let me,” Cole says roughly. Our fingers touch and my breath catches, eyes flying open. He stills, as we’re far too close—with him hovering over me, his knee between my legs.
Cole meets my eyes, and he looks warm and rumpled and so delicious he makes my head spin—or is it the alcohol?
“Darling.” There’s a wealth of emotion in his voice I’ve never heard before. I drop the ice pack to cup his nape. He lowers his head. The fatigue fades away, eradicated by the desire to be close to him again.
Then his lips are finally on mine and we exchange a heated kiss that makes my dick throb and my entire body blaze. Too soon, he pulls back. His breathing is rushed and mine is no better. His mouth moves gently to my bruised jaw, kissing his way down to my neck.
“Cole,” I choke his name out in a pleading way when his teeth nip the skin of my neck and his lips suck hard. They pop off, and I open my eyes, finding an unreadable look in his.
