Page 96 of Coldhearted King

He’s making breakfast.

Tears prick the backs of my eyes. It’s a ridiculous reaction to someone making a meal, but this is Cole. He spent the night in my apartment—just sleeping, not screwing me blind—and now he’s doing his best to make what I think might be pancakes. Any resistance to what I’m feeling disintegrates, drifting away like ash on the breeze.

I’ve fallen for him. Hard.

My heart squeezes painfully in my chest as I watch him try to crack an egg into the bowl, swearing under his breath as bits of shell go with it.

I never thought I could love a man like him, but I do. Because he’s not a man like him. No, that doesn’t make sense. I give my head a slight shake, trying to sort through the chaotic rush of thoughts and emotions tumbling through me.

Cole is so much more than the cold, arrogant billionaire he shows the world—that he showedmewhen we first met. I labeled and classified him in my head and told myself I had to be careful with my heart around him. Just like Mom should have been careful with my dad. But I’ve seen the man beneath the façade now. A man who is as real and vulnerable and flawed as anyone else. And yes, a man just as capable of getting eggshell in his pancake batter.

I walk forward as quietly as I can, and he’s so absorbed in watching what the person on the screen is doing, he doesn’t notice me until I do something I wouldn’t have considered a few weeks ago. I slide my arms around his waist and press myself against his back.

He actually jumps. “Fuck. You scared me.”

I press my cheek against his warm skin. “Are you making pancakes?”

“Trying to,” he grumbles, and I can’t help but laugh.

He throws down the spoon and turns in my arms, so that now he has me against his chest. He looks down at me, his brows furrowed. “The guy in the video makes it look so fucking easy. I’m going to call Jonathan and get him to pick up some—”

I shake my head and smile up at him. “No, you’re not. We’re going to make them together.”

His gaze traces over my face, dropping to my mouth, then to the open neck of my robe and back to my eyes. His rapidly growing erection tells me he likes what he sees.

He strokes his thumb over my jaw, his eyes sweeping over my face. “I didn’t fuck you last night.”

“You were exhausted.”

He nods. “I don’t sleep with women.”

My brows shoot up. “I think you’ve slept with plenty of women.”

He shakes his head, focusing on me again. “I’ve fucked women. I’ve never slept with any of them until you.”

I run my palm up and down his chest. “I’m glad you came here last night,” I say softly. “I’m glad you slept in my bed.”

He’s still watching me, and the hint of wariness in his eyes hurts my heart a little. He really has no idea how to handle this. Whatever this is now. I reach up and curl my hand around the back of his neck and tug him down to my waiting lips.

My heart does a little twirl when his mouth crushes against mine. I open for him, going up on my tiptoes to give him better access. He might have been too tired to fool around last night, but there’s no sign of that exhaustion now. His body is hard against mine, his groan vibrating into my mouth.

He runs his hands over my waist, then grips my ass, his fingers pressing into me, kneading me. Then they slide lower and he’s lifting me so I can wrap my legs around him and grind myself against his erection. “I fucking missed you. I missed this.”

“Me too,” I pant as he walks us back toward my bedroom.

In a demonstration of strength which has my arousal spiraling higher, he lowers me slowly to the bed. Then he stands tall, staring down at me where I lie sprawled on the mattress, my robe barely held to my body by the tie around my waist.

Cole’s hungry eyes move over me as a muscle tics in his jaw. He stares at me so long with that inscrutable expression on his face that I start to get nervous.

I sit up, but he shakes his head. “Lie down, Delilah.” The rasp in his voice has me pressing my thighs together, even as I comply.

As soon as I’m flat on my back again, he lifts the end of the tie around my waist and draws it slowly so that the knot falls open. Using his index finger, he flicks each side of my robe to the side, exposing me to the heat of his gaze.

“So fucking gorgeous,” he murmurs, as if to himself, and my pulse flutters in my throat. I’m so gone for this man.

I don’t have time to dwell on my newly acknowledged feelings, because before I know what’s happening, he’s gripping me by the thighs and dragging me to the edge of the bed.

“Cole,” I gasp, but he ignores me, dropping to his knees and spreading my legs wider.

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