Page 77 of Blush Crush

Cole puts his arm around me, his thumb tracing a slow circle at my waist. Then my hip.

I lean my body into him slightly, which does nothing to help my growing frustration.

I’m on my second glass of sparkling wine, warm from the fire and the room and the nearness of him, and I’ve completely lost track of what’s for the audience and what’s just me wanting his touch. I’m not sure there’s a clean line between those things anymore, and the thought makes me want to panic.

“I have to use the restroom,” Cole says, angling down toward my ear.

“Okay,” I say slowly, meeting his gaze, not sure why he’s telling me.

“I can’t remember where it is.”

I look at him. The layout of this house is not complicated. There are approximately four doors outside this room and one of them is clearly a bathroom. “It’s just down the?—”

“Show me.”

I blink. Something in the way he says it makes the back of my neck prickle.

“You want me to show you where the bathroom is?”

“Please.” His mouth twitches, the slightest uptick of his lips, eyes bright.

I down the last of my drink and set the flute down. “Okay.”

Nobody looks up when we sneak out of the game room. Layla is mid-conversation, saying something that has Shane doubled over. Whatever is happening over there is apparently more interesting than us leaving, which I’m grateful for.

I lead him into the hallway, and he follows behind close enough to feel the heat radiating off his body on my exposed back.

I only make it maybe a few steps before his hand wraps around my wrist and he turns me around and walks me backward until my shoulders meet the wall and suddenly Cole is right there, filling up all the space in front of me, one hand braced beside my head and the other still loosely circling my wrist.

“Hi.” I giggle. A little because of the bubbles and a little because this doesn’t feel real. Being cornered in a dark hallway by a man with a very intentional look on his face will do that. A shiver races down my spine, and if it weren’t so dark, Cole would see the full-body flush spreading across my skin.

“Hi.” His jaw shifts. His eyes drop to my mouth and come back up. “Ariana.” His voice is strained, like my name alonecauses him pain. “I’m sorry. Tell me to stop and I will, I swear to God I will, but I have been—” he exhales sharply through his nose— “I’ve been going out of my mind tonight. Sitting next to you in that dress, touching you and not being able to actually touch you—” He stops. His hand at my wrist loosens and his thumb presses gently against my pulse point instead, as if he can feel what his closeness is doing to my heart rate. “I want you. I want you so fucking bad, you have no idea. It’s been torture and I can’t take it anymore.” His forehead drops toward mine, not quite touching. “Me doing this right now—it’s not fake. I’m attracted to you, and it’s getting harder and harder to fight it. So tell me to stop if you don’t want this as much as I do. Tell me now, and I’ll walk back in there and spend the rest of the night keeping my hands to myself. Just…tell me to stop. Please.”

I don’t know what to say.

I wasn’t expecting…well, I don’t know what I was expecting. I guess I thought Cole agreeing to the lessons was more out of pity for me than anything else. I didn’t imagine he would ever want me in the way he’s claiming he does.

You only have to hear the phrase “a hole is a hole” once to get the picture. I know there are plenty of men who don’t need to like or even be physically interested in someone to have sex with them. All they require is a warm body and a willing participant.

And while I never lumped Cole in that category, it did occur to me that if we ever did have sex, it wouldn’t necessarily be great sex for him, just something to check off the list per our agreement.

So to say I’m confused is an understatement. I’m baffled. And some evil little corner of my brain thinks it’s all one big joke.

He’s messing with me. He has to be. Or he’s drunk.

“How much have you had to drink?” The question blurts out of me.

His head rears back slightly. “Only the sip I had from your wine earlier. Been drinking club soda with lime all night.”

“But I—I don’t understand?—”

He shakes his head, releasing a dry, humorless chuckle. “You really don’t get it, do you?” His eyes search mine, looking for an answer to a question I’m not sure how to respond to.

His thumb traces my jaw in a featherlight exploration that has me going completely still.

“Do you think I agreed to your terms of our arrangement out of the goodness of my heart? Do you not think my reasons weren’t completely selfish?”

His hand slides down my neck so slowly it’s agonizing, forcing an involuntary sigh to float past my lips. My heart is hammering so hard I’m almost certain he can hear it. “Cole,” I whine.