Page 88 of Cole

I accepted one. She held one out to Cole and he just shook his head. He hadn’t let me go even an inch.

“I’m driving,” he simply said. He was leaving tonight. He was going somewhere without me. Suddenly, I couldn’t stand the thought. In my drunken state, it felt too depressing to bear. I reached out and took the offered shots, quickly downing them both. Arianna stared at me.

“Whoa, that was a lot!”

“I’m fine! Don’t worry about me. I’m fine on my own,” I assured her. On my own, like always. She left to talk to someone else, and I looked up at Cole.

“What else did you say to Travis?” A wave of drunkenness hit me, and I barely kept on my feet. Shit, those two shots had been a mistake.

“What did you say?” I demanded, grabbing Cole’s T-shirt and pulling him forward, bending him to my level.

“I said… hands off, Travis,” Cole spoke in my ear.

“And?” I swayed. Was I going to pass out? It wasn’t impossible.

He waited a beat before answering.

“I said, hands off. She’s mine.”

twenty-nine

COLE

Isabelle was a slight weight in my arms as I carried her through the first floor of my cabin, and upstairs toward the bedroom.

She had passed out a little after shotgunning those final two shots, and I’d been forced to use my truck to bring her home. It didn’t get much use these days, as I usually used my bike, but that looked like it was about to change.

She snuggled into my arms, and I drank her in.

For the first time in weeks, it all felt right. Her here, in my arms, in my home, soon to be in my bed. I felt calm. At peace, almost. For a man who’d lived without that feeling for more than a decade, it wasn’t a small thing.

I laid her on the bed, and she immediately rolled into the center. I worked her boots off first, and then her tight jeans. Her top was next, and I left the underwear, pulling the comforter over her.

Next, I went to the dresser and pulled out the necklace I’d gotten a few days ago. A custom piece carrying the emblem of the Harbor Hounds, and a hidden, embedded tracker inside.

I returned to her side and carefully fastened it around her neck. The pendant nestled in her cleavage, lucky thing. It looked right on her. My transition from a rational person into a full-blown stalker was now complete.

She sighed in her sleep, the sound sweet and hot at the same time. Proof she was real, and not some sweet dream. For weeks, I’d been longing for this woman, bearing it the only way I knew how: stoic silence. And now, she was here. For weeks, I’d worked toward changing my life in a way that could never be undone, and it was all because of her.

Isabelle had infected me with her fucking optimism, and now, I stood on the precipice of blowing everything in my world up. Maybe I’d sink, or maybe, just maybe, I’d swim.

It was a risk I was willing to take.

I stood, taking off my T-shirt and jeans, then slipping into bed behind her. I pulled her close, wrapping myself around her back and holding her against my chest. For the first time in weeks, I slept.

I woke to the feeling of hands on my chest. I nearly startled awake. It was no easy thing to wake slowly, find someone with me, and not reach for my gun.

Instead, this time, I forced myself to breathe, and to not fucking move.

Isabelle was in my bed, and she was touching me. I wasn’t going anywhere.

Her touch was hesitant, shy almost. It was at odds with her confidence in every other walk of life. She had no idea of her power. None whatsoever.

She slid her hands over my bare chest, tracing the lines of my tattoos. I had a lot of ink, started at fifteen. I barely glanced at it anymore. But under Isabelle’s curious touch, it felt different. My body no longer felt like just a means to fight, to protect, to work… I felt again. After years of living in my head, forgetting everything else that made a person want to live, I was once again aware of my body.

She touched my nipple, a soft sigh sounding when it contracted at her touch. She leaned in slowly, her lips brushing against the hard point. I’d woken with the usual morning wood, but her touch was making my cock ache. It actually hurt.

But I wasn’t going to rush her. If my girl wanted to explore, then I’d let her. I intended to return the favor later.