Page 67 of L.O.V.E

He slid one hand behind my head, gripping my hair, tilting my head to accept his mouth. But before he plunged, he whispered, “I knew you’d be perfect.”

Cole fucked my mouth with his tongue before pulling back and mumbling, “I knew you were meant to be mine.”

My heart soared to the moon. My body melted under Cole’s attention, his command, his thrusts, grunts, and kisses. God, the man kissed me into oblivion. He staked his claim, smothering me in orgasms and promises.

We used the last condom on Saturday morning before breakfast. We ate. We laughed. We planned dates. We walked to the corner store and bought more Trojans.

I couldn’t get enough of those dimples. That smile could inspire a thousand paintings, a million love songs.

My heart, my body, my soul was so full of Cole Adams. By Saturday evening, we crashed on my couch, bodies tangled, and fell asleep watchingRay Donavan.

Somewhere around midnight, Cole carried me back to bed. We lay in the dark, face to face, his hand on my hip, his erection tickling my thigh.

“I’m a goner,” he whispered, our breaths mingling. “I’m not letting you go.” He rolled me to my back, kissed me dizzy, and as he slid into me, whispered. “You’re my one.”

My heart soared so high I lost my breath. I’d known from the beginning he was my one. To hear him say the words changed me on a molecular level.

Cole made love to me one last time, kissing the tears from my cheeks, and when we fell, tangled, into slumber, I knew my life would never be the same.

I woke, a heavy weight in my gut, an angry warning in my chest.

“I don’t understand. How could this happen?” Cole’s gruff voice came from my kitchen.

I stretched my sore limbs, headed naked to the bathroom and, unable to tame my rattling nerves, hurried through my morning routine.

Ten minutes later, I found Cole on my couch, elbows to knees, head resting in his hands.

Dear Lord, he was beautiful, wearing nothing but boxers, his muscles taught, hair a rumpled mess.

“Good morning,” came out raspy and breathy. I stepped close and roughed my fingers through his gorgeous mane.

He didn’t look up but gripped my hips and nuzzled my belly, releasing a long sigh.

My heart dropped to my toes. “Hey. What is it?”

Cole’s chest heaved. He snaked his trembling arms around my waist and pulled me tighter against his frame.

“You’re scaring me. What happened?”

“She’s pregnant,” he said to my feet.

“Who?” I asked, although the answer was obvious.

“Victoria. She’s been calling all weekend. I called her back this morning. She’s pregnant.”

“But.” I shoved away, stumbling backward. “How? I mean”—my stomach churned—“you said you hadn’t been with her in months.”

Face pale, gaze vacant, he whispered, “Vegas. She said we fucked in Vegas. When I was drunk. I don’t fucking remember doing it, but I remember the next morning, and she was pissed, had bruises on her arms. Said I got rough with her.” Worried eyes lifted to mine. “I’ve never been rough with any woman, Natalie. I’ve never been too drunk to remember fucking either.”

My body deflated, a slow, pathetic leak, my future, my happy, my Cole, slipping away with every thump of my groggy heart.

“So that’s it.” I didn’t recognize my voice. “I got you for a weekend. One perfect, beautiful weekend.” I fell into the chair behind me.

“Natalie.” Cole shook his head, his voice weak, strained, lacking fight. “Natalie, I don’t…” He dropped his head. Tugged on his hair. “I don’t fucking know what to do.”

“You go to her. She’s having your baby. You go to her. Marry her. Be a family.” Impressive, the calm in my voice. “There’s no other way to do this, Cole. You were in love with her. You don’t just shut that off. You still love her, or you wouldn’t be struggling right now.”

“But the things she did to you. How can…?” His voice broke.

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