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With Cole, I feel like he actually sees me as more than a pretty face. He listens when I talk. Asks questions. Doesn’t think less of me for being a dancer. Doesn’t try to fuck me. Which I love. But I’d also love those big hands on me.

He thinks I’m too young for him, but I’m not. I also know what I like.

This gorgeous, overbearing cowboy who grunts more than he talks has my full attention.

I could even call it distracted.

I want this man. I want more closeness. I want kissing. More nights in this bed, only with him in it.

It’s risky. We work together. I’m leaving. Then why does my entire body feel like it could catch fire whenever I’m with him?

I remind myself the launch party is my focus. Especially now more than ever. Knowing the launch party is for their parents changes the game. Everything has to be perfect. For Cole. His family.

I slip out of the tangled sheets, off the bed and pad to the bathroom. I gather my dirty clothes, stuffing them into a plastic sack I find beneath the sink. I survey his bathroom. Masculine. Sparse. One toothbrush. One towel.

As I enter the bedroom, my attention snags on Cole’s sherpa-lined bomber jacket. It hangs on a hook on the back of the bedroom door.

An idea comes to me. Giggling, I slip off my panties and slip them into Cole’s pocket. Give this stubborn gentleman of a cowboy something to remember me by.

I head down the hall and into the kitchen, where I find Cole standing by the coffee pot. And just like that, I head right for him as if magnetized. My footsteps creak the old wood floors as I round the island and enter the small nook of his kitchen.

“Coffee?” His powerful body moves easily in the small space as he grabs a mug from the cupboard.

“Yes, please.”

I watch as he pours me a cup. His tight denim jeans hug that ass in ways most women would call unfair, and his muscles flex in that massive, chiseled torso of his. His dark hair is damp and unruly from a shower, and my fingers itch to tangle in it.

I bite my lip as he sets the steaming mug near me. “What about breakfast?”

Cole leans back against the counter, biceps pulling taut in the plaid button-down he wears. “Don’t eat breakfast.”

“You should. I make a great one.” My eyes trace their way up the dark tattoos winding over his tan forearms as he lifts the coffee cup to his lips. “A cowboy can’t live on coffee alone.”

“I could.” A grin tilts his lips as he scrutinizes me from head-to-toe. “How’d you sleep?”

“I could have slept better with you.” Bold words, but it’s the truth. I want this man in a way that is foolish and lovesick and fearless. But that’s always been my MO, so why stop now?

“Darlin’, you don’t know what you’re doin’.” The rumbling authority in his voice sends shivers down my spine.

I take a step toward him, tilting my head with a playful smile. “I do. I’m flirting with you, cowboy.”

“You’re too young for me.” He runs a hand over the thick scruff on his jaw.

I blow out a frustrated breath and count the sexy crinkles around his eyes. The man has the patience of a glacier.

“Says who? Because I think the only two people here who matter are me and you.”

“Not looking for a relationship.”

“Same here.”

I press closer, so close that I could crawl up his chest and cling to his sculpted frame.

“Delilah.” Cole’s deep boom is an order. I gasp as he grips my hips, stilling me. But that only makes me arch into him, my breasts sweeping against his chest.

My heart starts to hammer when I see the feral look in his eyes, a dark sea of want that has me heating, that has me inching closer to him.

I don’t breathe. I don’t move. I watch anger shroud his face, tension twitching a muscle in his stern, chiseled jaw. It should tell me everything, yet it tells me nothing. The man’s a marvel of self-control, and it makes him even sexier.