Page 54 of Coldhearted King

The limo pulls up outside my apartment, and I look over at Cole. He’s been distant throughout our return trip, and I’m not sure why. It’s not like I’ve been a chatterbox, but that’s because I’m not used to this type of casual affair and I’m trying to wrap my head around what comes next. Nights like last night must be familiar territory to someone like Cole.

It had been hard for me to slip out of his bed in the early hours of this morning. Harder than I thought it would have been. I probably should have left after he gave me my fifth orgasm of the night, but I’d been so relaxed, filled with the gentle hum of residual pleasure, that I’d fallen asleep with my body still draped over his.

When I’d woken up a few hours later, I’d been shocked to find myself on my back with Cole’s hand spread over my stomach as he slept next to me. I expected he would have woken me and told me to go back to my own room. I really didn’t want to have that conversation, so I slipped out of the bed, put on my dress, and quietly left—sans panties, of course.

Heat suffuses my skin as I remember the way Cole ripped off my thong last night, but I take that hit of lust, package it in a little box in my mind, and file it safely away under things I’ll never forget.

Since Cole still hasn’t spoken and appears to be deep in thought, a line etched between his brows, I guess it’s up to me to end this. “Well, thank you for, uh, for the opportunity to, uh, visit the site and the gala and...”

God, could I be any more awkward? Do I thank him for all the orgasms? Pretend it never happened?

His eyes are on me now, and I’m not sure if the glimmer I see in them is amusement or something else.

“You’re welcome, Miss West.”

Miss West? I guess we’re going with the pretend-it-didn’t-happen option. I try to ignore the disappointment that wells in my chest. I knew what this was when I agreed to it.

I nod and put my hand on the door handle.

“I’m not finished with you, Delilah,” he says in a low voice.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “Do you have something you want to talk about before the team meeting on Friday?”

He nods. “I do.” His gaze moves slowly over my face, dipping down to my breasts, then back up. “I want you again.”

My lips part and I blink at him. “What?”

“I want to fuck you again. I thought last night would get this out of my system, but there are still things I haven’t had a chance to do to you yet.”

Considering what he’s done already, I’m not sure what else he has in mind. But considering how my pulse has accelerated, my body really, really wants to find out. “So you want us to do this again? Another night?”

He doesn’t reply for a moment, just stares at me, a muscle pulsing in his jaw. “More than one night.”

I take in a shuddery breath, trying to get my head around what he’s suggesting. “You want to date me?”

I wince at the small snort that escapes him.

“I don’t date. But I don’t want last night to be it. I want us to work this thing out of our systems, and that takes however long it takes.”

I shake my head, unsure whether to be offended or flattered. He doesn’t want to date me, but apparently one—no,two—nights aren’t enough.

I can’t deny a large part of me wants more too. More of what we did last night, more of how he made my body come to life, more orgasms. But it’s not just the sex. He intrigues me. Most of the time he comes across as an arrogant asshole, but then there are those rare flashes of humanity. A glimpse of the man behind the coldhearted-billionaire persona. The man who told me my passion was beautiful, who made me feel more seen in a few words than Paul had in the months we were together.

But I know better than to romanticize this situation. Cole isn’t the kind of man to let people in. I need to be okay with that if I decide to go ahead with this arrangement. I can’t read more into it.

Not like Mom did with Dad.

“What would that mean for our working relationship?” I find myself asking.

“It doesn’t mean anything for our relationship at work. We’ll remain professional—”

“Professional?” I eye him as the memory of being pressed against his office door and made to come flows through me.

I see the memory hit him too, a small smile curving his lips. He dips his head and looks up at me through his lashes, suddenly appearing far younger than he is. “Exactly as professional as we’ve been so far.”

His playful expression is so unexpected that a laugh escapes me, and for a second we’re smiling at each other as if whatever this is between us is the start of something sweet and beautiful, not an office fling where my boss gets to fuck me out of his system.

The same thought must occur to him because his expression sobers. “Do you have an answer for me?”

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