The thought sends heat coursing through me, and I'm suddenly acutely aware that I'm still holding her pressed against my body. That every curve I memorised last night is now fitted against me in broad daylight. That the guilt I've been carrying all morning is warring with the surge of desire that hits me like a punch to the throat.
“Rory?”
“Cole?” Her eyes go comically wide. “What are you— How—”
“What the hell were you doing stepping into the bike lane?” I demand, even as I carefully set her to rights and step back to check her over for injury. “Do you have a death wish?”
“I was looking at my phone!” She holds up the offending device, then flattens her lips when she seems to realise howridiculous that sounds. “Google Maps said Pret was right here, and I was trying to figure out if I was at the right location—”
“Pret?” I blink owlishly. “MyPret?”
“YourPret?” She arches a perfectly shaped eyebrow, colour returning to her pale cheeks. “Since when do you own a sandwich chain?”
“Since I've been eating from this exact location every single day for three years.” I gesture at the storefront behind her. “That Pret.”
Her mouth opens. Closes. Opens again. “You're kidding me.”
“Do I look like I'm kidding?”
“I mean...no?” She doesn't look altogether convinced as she tilts her head, studying me with an intensity that makes my skin feel too tight. “You look very serious, though I’m not completely sure that’s not your usual look.”
Despite myself, I feel my lips twitch. “I was about to buy lunch.”
“So was I!” She looks between me and the Pret, shaking her head in disbelief. “This is insane. What are the odds?” Her bright blue gaze sweeps over my face, and that signature smile lights up the whole bloody street.
“There are 437 Pret locations in this city,” I say automatically, attempting and failing to ground myself with familiar numbers. Trying not to think about how her smile is the same one she wore when she slipped that keycard into my palm. How she's looking at me now the same way she did then—like I'm someone worth taking a risk on.
Was she this gorgeous last night, or is it just the daylight making her glow?
“Of course you know that.” Her laugh is nothing short of gleeful as it washes over me like sunshine. “Of course you do.”
She's doing that thing where she talks with her hands, gesturing between me and the shop like she's physicallymapping out the impossibility. I've never noticed anyone do that before. Or maybe I have, but I've never cared enough to pay attention. With Rory, I notice everything—the way her nose crinkles when she smiles, the animated sparkle in her eyes, the graceful movement of her fingers.
My stomach dips, reminding me that it’s for those very reasons I left that note this morning.
“Thank you, by the way.” Her eyes soften when they meet mine. “For the whole heroic rescue thing.”
Something in her expression makes my chest tight, but before I can respond to her thanks, the words I've been holding back all morning tumble out. “Rory, I need to apologise.”
Her expression shifts, something guarded flickering across her features. “For saving my life? Well, that seems counterproductive.”
“For this morning.” I run a hand through my hair, suddenly feeling like an awkward teenager instead of a thirty-one-year-old grown-ass man. “For leaving the way I did. That note—it was bullshit.”
She's quiet for a moment, those penetrating blue eyes locked on mine. When she speaks, her voice is softer. “It was honest. I appreciated that, actually. No false promises or morning-after fumbling.”
“Still.” I hold her gaze, needing her to understand. “You deserved better than waking up alone. You deserved a real conversation, not a note on hotel stationery.”
Something shifts in her expression—surprise, maybe, or appreciation. She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, a gesture that seems both nervous and endearing.
“Thank you for saying that.” She adjusts her hat, a small smile playing at her lips. “For what it's worth, I don't regret what happened between us. Not one little bit. It was...”
As she trails off, her cheeks flush in the same way they did while coming all over my cock last night. I desperately try to push the thought away as quickly as it manifested, but the memory lingers in my mind’s eye.
Taunting me.
Tempting me.
Fuck.
