Page 31 of L.O.V.E

“Good.” He nodded, seemingly satisfied. “Good,” he repeated, then tugged his wallet out of his back pocket and dropped a handful of bills on the table. “Did you walk or drive?”

“I walked.”

“Okay, then.” Again his fingers wrapped around my arm. “I’ll walk you home.”

“That’s not necessary. It’s—”

“I’m walking you home,” he interrupted, scooting me toward the door, leaving no room for argument.

Cole kept the conversation light, though I noticed he was on alert, keeping an eye on our surroundings, staying close, too close, our arms brushing, shoulders bumping.

We reached my building and I turned to thank my hero for the day but, dear Lord, the man smelled delicious and looked downright edible. I hadn’t eaten all afternoon, and I couldn’t manage one single word for fear of drooling all over his feet.

Shoving his hands in his front pockets, he asked, “Should I walk you up?”

Walk me up. See me in. Tear off my clothes. Take me against my front door.

“No. That’s not necessary.” The words traveled up my throat like oatmeal through a straw.

Cole stared for a long hard spell, then his brows furrowed.

He leaned closer. I hadn’t the strength to back away, to stop what I sensed was coming, because I wanted the freight train that was Cole Adams to come at me full throttle, pulverize me, leave me dead but wholly satisfied.

Indecision pained his face, wrinkles bunching between his brows, a snarl forming on his lips. Closer still, he came, and my heart punched through my chest to steal the man that should be mine. The man that was not and never would be mine.

His hand landed on my neck. My fingers rose to his chest. Push or pull? Life or death? God, I wanted those lips. That body. That brain. Those dimples.

“Don’t move,” he said, his lips sinfully close to mine, moist from his tongue.

Move? His touch rendered me immobile. His heat, his scent, his quickening pulse beneath my fingertips, spellbinding. Heavy breaths hit my face.

The intimacy was wrong.

I was wrong.

Because he was right.

Right for me.

Right now.

Right for eternity.

I raised my chin to accept his mouth, a sigh escaping, or maybe that was the last of my conscience.

“Aren’t you a little devil,” he rasped, jerking away. “Got you.” He straightened, held his hand up.

On the tip of his finger, a tiny brown beetle shimmied back and forth, then spread his wings and buzzed away.

“Oh.” My chest deflated. My stomach sank. A blowtorch scorched my cheeks.

“He was caught in your hair.” He assessed my eyes, then my cheeks, then my mouth. “You okay?”

No. I was fucked in so many ways. All of them caused by the man that stood too damn close. Who smiled too damn bright.

He looked down at my hand, the offending appendage that still rested on his chest.

Our eyes locked, and a groan rose in his chest. I slunk back a step, my arm falling to my side.

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