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“That’s—”
“And I’ve told men I loved them just because it seemed easier than not saying it back. Because it might buy me a few more weeks of not being alone. But I’ve never loved anyone, Cole. Not the way you’re supposed to.”
“None of that is bad, Grace. You just…”
“It was all bad. All of it.” She laughed to hide the new huskiness in her voice. “But strangely, I only ever get ruined by the good stuff I do. Standing up for myself. Speaking up when something is wrong. Trying to make my life better. So I just want to start over. Reset. Go somewhere where no one knows me.”
“Are you running away?”
“Maybe. Does it matter? It’s all semantics. I don’t care. I’m not more or less ashamed of myself because of it. I’ve got plenty of other shit to be ashamed of.”
“Like what?”
She thought of Scott and felt her throat thicken. Not because she’d loved him. She hadn’t. But because she’d given up things she’d believed about herself. Important things. For nothing. If she’d loved him, maybe she could use that as an excuse when she looked back. Then again, she was awfully glad she hadn’t given him her heart.
She didn’t answer Cole’s question.
“You’re right, you know,” Cole said quietly.
“About what?”
“We’re all awful. If you’ve made mistakes, you don’t have to be ashamed of that. And you don’t have to be ashamed about being soft sometimes.”
“I’m not soft,” she said again, but when his fingers slid between hers and tightened, she had to swallow hard. He plucked the beer from her other hand and set it on the bedside table. Then his fingers settled on her cheek and turned her toward him. But she didn’t look at him. She closed her eyes and pretended he really meant it as he pressed a soft kiss to her jaw, then her chin, then her mouth.
“Grace,” he whispered.
She wanted to tell him to be quiet. To stop talking and let her pretend. Pretend he was touching her that way because he knew her and cared.
His fingers whispered over her skin, down her neck and over her shoulder until he eased her down to lie on the bed. Leaning over her, he kissed along the same path, then down to her breast. His mouth closed over her nipple, wetting the thin fabric of her shirt until she could feel his heat through it.
She arched into the pleasure as he sucked at her gently, then turned the same attention to her other breast. By the time he pushed her shirt up and exposed her, she was panting.
His lips whispered against her bare breast. “I love seeing you like this. Like nobody else does.”
She shook her head as he pressed another gentle kiss to her nipple. “Plenty of people have seen me,” she growled, wanting to shut him up.
“Not like this,” he whispered. “Not here or now. Not in my bed.”
Oh, God. Her throat tightened. His tongue traced her with the lightest touch and his breath cooled the wetness and made her want to groan.
When his hand slipped down her belly, she was relieved. She could give up the fantasy that this light, slow touch had something to do with cherishing her. But he didn’t shove his hand down her panties and get her off. Instead, his fingers dragged over the cotton, and he simply cupped her heat in his hand, holding her as he carefully sucked one nipple between his teeth.
“More,” she said. “Harder.”
He paused. She felt him lift his head and look at her, but she kept her eyes closed and turned her face away. His fingers curled a little tighter against her, but when he bent his head again, his mouth was just as gentle. He teased her, tempting her to feel something more than just sexual need.
His lips slid down to her ribs, lingering over the tattoo he couldn’t stop asking about. It was as if he wanted to collect details about her for his own amusement. Why?
“Harder,” she rasped, sliding her hand over his to push his fingers more firmly against her. “Cole.”
“Shh,” he whispered against her skin. “It’s okay.”
But it wasn’t okay. She didn’t want it like this. Even though the cotton grew wet under his fingers. Even though her skin bloomed with warmth under his mouth. She didn’t want this.
She pulled his hand higher and forced it beneath her panties. She wound her free hand into his hair and squeezed her fist tight. “More,” she ordered.
“No.” He twisted his hand up and captured her wrist.
