I’m not a prude like Cole made me out to be, I just like my peace and quiet. These two are keeping me up half the nights of the week with their sexual escapades.
And yeah, I haven’t been intimate with anyone in quite a while. So the constant reminder that I’m sexually frustrated just hammers another nail in the coffin.
Thankfully, Cole doesn’t mention my bitterness this time as we pass the happy couple. All he says is, “Sounds like they found the cockring.”
I’m not sure what I expected to happen when we climbed back into my apartment, but it wasn’t for Cole to stand there and stare at me, bundled in my winter gear. His intensity is a strange juxtaposition to his golden retriever energy. One minute he’s complaining about my lack of festive decor, the next he’s looking at me with eyes so dark I see where the serial killer side of him resides.
Now that the moment of arousal is gone, I’m not sure I want him to kiss me anymore.
Who am I kidding, if he stormed across the room and plowed into me I’d melt at his touch. Maybe I do really need to get laid if I’m fantasizing about a murderer having his way with me.
Cole does step forward but not in the briskI must have you nowkind of way. He’s slow and measured, assessing me. To diffuse the tension stifling the air, I avert my eyes as I remove my winter coat. I left my pajamas on underneath since I was in a hurry to bundle up. I risk a glance back up at Cole when I slip the snow pants down my legs, feeling too exposed in the moment. His gaze is firmly locked on my lower half. I can’t tell if he’s assessing my tiny shorts, my bare legs, or all of it.
“I should go change.” I’m suddenly very aware of my lack of undergarments beneath my Iwant to feel cutepajamas.
“Don’t.” The command in his voice makes me pause.
But that’s all he says. The way he issued the order made it sound like he would have more instructions to follow. Yet here I stand in the barely-there set waiting for what comes next.
Waiting.
Waiting.
Then he moves. Although it’s not sudden, I still feel like I should run from the predator prowling towards me. He never takes those dark eyes off me as each step brings him closer. Maybe he wants to remove the clothes himself.
With only a few inches of space between us, Cole asks in a low tone, “Do you still want me to kiss you?”
I forget how to speak.Move your mouth, Noelle.My inner monologue screams.Answer the man!
All I can bring myself to do is nod, a slow rise and fall of my chin to confirm what he already knows.
I’m preparing to finally know what he tastes like, what it feels like to give myself over to my impulses. But I guess I’ll have to wait a little bit longer.
“Well, I’m not in the practice of kissing strangers like you,” Cole teases. “I’d like to at least get to know the basics about you first.”
The nerve of this guy.
Hands on my hips that are cocked to one side I ask, “Do you enjoy riling me up?’
“Yes, it’s my new favorite hobby. Second to murder.”
“I’m flattered.” I roll my eyes involuntarily. “What did you have in mind? An interview?”
With a playful gleam, Cole backs away to take a seat at one end of the couch. Sasha immediately occupies his lap, the traitor. “How about we make it fair. I ask a question, you ask a question. Seem reasonable?”
Assessing him for a moment, so relaxed and making himself at homein my apartment, I concede by sitting at the opposite end of the couch, crossing my legs that are swiftly covered with the blanket, and agree.
Cole gestures with a graceful wave of his hand. “Ladies first.”
“What’s your day job?”
“Mortician.”
“Really?”That would explain a lot.
“No,” he laughs. “I live quite a boring life, actually. I work in the maintenance department of a box factory.”
Who would’ve guessed one of Detroits most notorious criminals has such an ordinary life.
