Page 147 of Stalkers Anonymous

“Sit down, Cole.”

He looks at me from the kitchen, hand on the kettle, and I take the moment to drink him in. He’s been holding himself together for the last two hours, but the second our eyes meet, he loses the last of his control. He crosses the apartment, sitting down beside me on the couch, then lets out a long breath that makes his whole body sag.

I lean my head onto his shoulder, and he turns his face into my hair, breathing me in.

We sit like that for several minutes. Silent, but content with each other’s company.

Chewy purrs in my lap, indifferent to the fact that several hours ago, I killed a man, and that several minutes ago, I watched the people I now apparently call my friends scrub a creek bed of evidence.

Cole’s voice is almost sad when he breaks our silence. “I’m so sorry.”

I lift my head and turn so I can see his face. He’s looking at his hands. His knuckles are still scraped from where he hit the gravel coming down the slope after me.

“Cole. You have nothing to be sorry for. You have to know that.”

He swallows, his gaze flicking between my lips and my eyes.

“Hailey,” he says, my name sounding almost pained. “I hate how today turned out. I should have been closer. It should have never gone as far as it did.”

I turn to face him fully, which pisses off Chewy. He scampers away.

“You know what? I wouldn’t change a single thing about today. I’m glad he’s dead. When I became a doctor, I took an oath to do no harm, and that oath includes myself. I am safe now because he’s gone.” I shake my head, tears welling in my eyes. “You were right when you said tomorrow will be a new day. Lars Winters will not be a problem for me tomorrow, or the next day, or for any woman ever again. And I can definitely live with that. Can’t you?”

I watch his Adam’s apple bob when he swallows. He finally says, “I can as long as you can.”

“And tonight told me everything I need to know about you. You’re someone I can count on, Cole. Someone I trust.”

He’s looking at me like he can’t quite believe what he’s hearing. “What are you saying?”

Instead of answering with words, I close the distance between us, leaning into his space until we’re close enough that I can see the flecks of green in his irises. His breath hitches, but he doesn’t move away.

“I’m saying I want to try this again.” I reach up to touch his face, my fingers tracing the stubbled line of his jaw. “I’m saying I want you, Cole. All of you.”

“Hailey.” He leans into my touch. “Are you sure? Because I’ve wanted this for so long, but not if you’re going to regret it tomorrow.”

“I’m sure.” And I am. For the first time in months, I’m completely certain about something. “I love who you’ve become—who you’re becoming still. I love that you fought to be better, that you’re going to keep fighting for it every day. And I love that you’ve earned this second chance instead of expecting it to be handed to you.”

The words seem to break something loose in him. His hand comes up to cover mine where I’m holding it against his cheek, and then he’s leaning forward, closing the last few inches of space between us.

His lips collide with mine, hungry and claiming. I melt into him, my hands fisting in the fabric of his shirt as I pull him closer. Our kiss is raw and needy, full of pent-up energy finally being released. His tongue sweeps against mine, and I moan at the taste of him.

“God, Hailey,” he breathes against my lips, his voice low and rough. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”

The confession sends a wave of heat coursing through me. I shift onto his lap, craving contact, and he welcomes me by sliding his hands around my hips and over the curve of my ass, pulling me tightly against him. A pained hiss slips past my lips, and I wince at the pressure on my ribs. His grip immediately loosens, and before he can apologize I’m covering his mouth with mine, letting the warmth of his chest soothe the ache. Each breath I take delivers a heady hit of his intoxicating sandalwood.

“How long?” I whisper, nipping at his bottom lip with a small, teasing smirk. “And what exactly do you want, Cole?”

A groan rumbles in his chest. “Every night since you told me to leave. Every fucking night, I lie awake thinking about what it’d be like to touch you again, taste you. I’ve spent every night wondering if I’d ever get another chance to show you how good I could make you feel.”

The honesty in his words has me feeling like I’m unraveling, losing what little control I’ve managed to cling to so far.

I want him.

I need him.

His dick is hardening beneath me, thickening as our gazes lock. I shift slightly, purposefully rocking against him to provoke a throaty groan.

“Fuck,” he hisses, his head falling back against the couch cushions. “You’re going to be the death of me.”