“Yeah,” he agrees, his forehead resting against mine, his breath coming fast and ragged. His thumb traces my kiss-swollen bottom lip, and the touch makes me shiver. “Wow.”
Someone skates past us with a cheerful wolf whistle, and I feel my cheeks flame. Cole chuckles fondly, though he still doesn't let go of me.
“Maybe we should get off the ice before we cause a scene,” he suggests, though he doesn't seem particularly concerned about it.
“Probably a good idea,” I agree, even though part of me wants to stay right here in this perfect moment.
He carefully guides us toward the edge of the rink, his arm secure around my waist, keeping me steady against him until we're on solid ground. Even then, he doesn't let go completely, his hand finding mine and lacing our fingers together.
“So,” I say eventually, a nervous laugh escaping. “I'm definitely adding this to my spreadsheets.”
His lips curve into that devastating smile that makes me melt even further. “Your freshly minted compatibility rating spreadsheets?”
“The very same. You're racking up serious points, Hotshot. Book boyfriends throughout the smut reading community better watch their backs.” I bite my lip, my heart hammering. Still, I try to keep my tone light as I quietly continue. “Though I have to say...this doesn't exactly match up with that note you left this morning.”
His forehead puckers as something almost guilty flickers across his features.
Keeping my voice soft, I murmur, “I mean, you wrote that you weren't book boyfriend material. That I deserved someone who could give me more.” Then I gesture vaguely between us. “But you cancelled your entire afternoon to spend it with me. You told me you enjoy giving me things I like. You bought ridiculous Christmas jumpers despite clearly hating them, and you took me ice skating, and now...” I touch my still-tingling lips. “Now you're kissing me like you’re trying to rewrite everyromance novel I’ve ever read. Like you’re ruining me for anyone else…” I trail off, feeling my cheeks heat at my candour before I question softly, “What are we doing, Cole?”
Something shifts in his expression—understanding, maybe, or perhaps relief that I'm the one who said it first. He pulls back just enough to meet my eyes, and what I see in his gaze makes my breath catch.
“You're right,” he says quietly.
His thumb traces my cheekbone, the gesture now familiar, before he takes a deep breath, as if steeling himself. “I've been so closed off for so long that I forgot how to be open to new things. New people.” His eyes search mine with intent. “Andthen…there was you.”
My heart stutters, and I bite my lip, barely daring to breathe.
“That note I left this morning…I wrote it believing we'd never see each other again. That it was safer for me. Cleaner.”
A rueful smile tugs at his lips before his brows furrow. “I have a daughter who depends on me and a slew of responsibilities I can't ignore. After my ex-wife walked out, I built walls so high that nothing could get through. It was easier that way. Predictable.Efficient.”
“Cole—”
“Let me finish,” he murmurs as he gently places his forefinger atop my lips. When I nod, he continues. “When you invited me to the Christmas market earlier, I knew what you were doing, goading me into calling in sick, into being spontaneous.” His smile grows. “And I did it anyway. Because I wanted to steal just a handful more hours with you. Just a couple more hours to feel...this.”
The pad of his thumb brushes my cheek as his deep-green eyes encompass my whole face, and I feel like I can barely breathe.
“Those hours today made me realise something.”
His voice drops lower, more intimate. “Somehow, in twenty-four short hours, you've snuck past every defence I've spent years building. I don't know how you did it—with your terrible book boyfriend standards and your enthusiasm for ugly Christmas jumpers and ceramic hedgehogs and the way you look at London like she's magic.” He cups my face with both hands now. “But all I know is that I’d walk over hot coals to see you smile, Rory. So no, I don't know what this is. But I want to figure it out. With you. If you'll let me.”
The vulnerability in his words, in his eyes, completely undoes me.
Instead of answering, I pull him down and kiss him. This kiss is different from the one on the ice—slower, more deliberate. My hands slide up to cup his face as his arms wrap around my waist, pulling me closer. Our mouths move together with an unhurried intensity, tongues tangling as we pour everything unspoken into this moment. When we finally break apart, we're both breathless, and his smile could light up all of London.
“I'll take that as a yes,” he murmurs against my lips.
“It’s most definitely a yes,” I whisper back.
CHAPTER 12
Aurora
The hotel room feels different now than it did this morning.
This morning, I'd woken to an empty bed and a note that had stung despite my best efforts to shake it off. Now, as I stand in front of the mirror, adjusting the emerald dress I'd chosen for dinner, my reflection shows a woman who can't stop smiling.
The dress is simple but elegant, fitted through the bodice with a sweetheart neckline that showcases just enough skin to be interesting, falling to mid-thigh in soft, flowing fabric. I'd brought it to London on a whim, one of those just-in-case items that had sat unworn in my closet since I got here.
