Page 81 of L.O.V.E

“You know why.”

I knew. Because whatever cruel twist of fate we’d befallen, he was cursed, the same as I. Our connection, the attraction, made no sense. The timing was always off. The pull, though, that was undeniable, otherworldly, and yes, at times sinful. But I knew, the same as Cole, that we were something, and our relationship, whether good or bad, friend or foe, hot or cold, was very extraordinary.

One more night would break my heart a thousand times over.

One more night might be all I’d ever get of Cole Adams.

I rose from my chair, took his hand, and led him to my car.

Cole slammed the SUV into park. Ran to my side, opened the door, and helped me out, his grip tight, as if afraid I would run.

I stared at the CFC painted on the window. “You’re staying in the gym?”

“I have an apartment above the gym.” Cole pushed open the door, waited for me to enter, then locked up behind us. “Can’t stand being in that house,” he mumbled before leading me upstairs, then past his office to a small apartment.

His living space was small but clean. Too sterile. Exposed brick and beams. A small, open kitchen was tucked in the corner. Large arch windows. One small couch and a large screen television. To my left, an open barn door exposed a small room, the unmade bed the only clue that someone lived there. No art, no life, only empty space full of potential.

Silence stretched, anticipation and hesitation crackling the air between us, my fingers itching to touch, my body primed. My heart guarded.

“Mona said on stage that you were a new, but dear, friend.”

“True.” He loosened his tie. Tugged the silk off his neck.

“When did that happen?” I stood still, waiting for his cue.

“When you left,” he said, dropping his tie, wetting his lips.

“I don’t understand.”

“I don’t either.” He stepped close enough to kiss me. “All I know is that when I’m there, I feel closer to you.”

“Why can’t you go home?” I asked, lifting my face to study his sad expression.

“Too many memories.”

I nodded.

“Not just ofher, but Martin, too. He helped me buy that house. We remodeled the kitchen together. Now, when I’m there, I want to take a bat to the place.”

“I get it.”

“I don’t think you do.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t be here. God, you’re still grieving. I should’ve known better.”

A huff. “Don’t leave.”

“Cole, I—”

Warm hands cupped my cheeks. Cole stared down at me, heated and pleading. “No more. I don’t want them in my head when you’re here.”

He claimed my mouth in a kiss both punishing and desperate, his full body trembling against mine. Finally.

His fingers tangled in my hair. I gripped his shirt in tight fists, my body heating and softening, aching for his possession.

Fucking my mouth with his tongue, he lifted the hem of my skirt, grabbed my ass, and yanked me tighter against his erection.

I moaned.

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