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She pulled his hair tighter until he pushed her down into the mattress.
Grace turned her body, turning away from him, struggling, forcing him to treat her roughly. He yanked her back against his body, her ass pressed to his cock.
When she pushed away, her flesh only pressed more tightly against his thickness.
She wouldn’t be soft for him. No matter what he thought. No matter what he asked for.
When he shoved her to her stomach and fucked her, Grace was smiling. She didn’t need gentleness from anyone. She just needed this.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
HEAVEN ENVELOPED HER in fluffy warmth, and Grace burrowed into it with a sigh of wicked pleasure. She curled her legs up and snugged her hands beneath her chin, finding a perfect little pocket of heat and softness to hide in. Oh, God. It felt so good that goose bumps chased over her skin despite the delicious warmth.
She felt safe. Cozy.
Then she smelled bacon. And toast. And coffee.
It was too good to be true, and her half-comatose brain managed to sound an alert. Something’s wrong.
Her eyes popped open, wide with alarm before she was even fully awake. She sprang up, ready to fight.
Yes, something was definitely wrong. She’d fallen asleep in Cole’s bed.
“Oh, shit,” she whispered as she jumped down from the bed and looked frantically around for her clothes. Her panic twisted higher when she couldn’t find them. Where were they? She reviewed the night in her mind. Yes, she’d definitely had clothes on when she’d come over. And then…
Yanking the covers back, she spotted the bright yellow cotton of her underwear and then the blue of her T-shirt. Thank God. But once she had those on, she couldn’t find her jeans. Keeping one eye on the corner of the short hall that fed into the living area, Grace searched the room. She could hear Cole moving around in there. Heard the clink of plates as he set them down.
Was he going to feed her breakfast in bed now? Maybe tell her how special she was and ask what she wanted to do today?
She didn’t know why the idea felt like a mortal threat. She wasn’t that screwed up. She’d had boyfriends. Men who’d loved her in whatever small way people were truly capable of love. So, why did the idea of sleeping in Cole’s bed terrify her?
Just as angry tears were pricking her eyes, she dropped to her knees and spotted her jeans under the bed.
“You up, Grace? Breakfast is ready. Come on out and I’ll feed you.”
Jeans in her fist, Grace crouched on the floor. Her head popped up and she glared down the hallway.
That was it. She remembered now. She’d been falling asleep last night, Cole’s arms wrapped around her, and he’d whispered something. Something about staying the night. “Don’t go back there. You don’t even have a bed. Stay with me for a while.”
Stay with me for a while.
A few years ago—hell, a few weeks ago—those words would have sent a secret thrill through her. Not because of love or affection or desire, but because those words would’ve offered a reprieve. Another reprieve in a long line of them. Another few weeks or months when she knew she was okay. Alive and fed and clothed and warm and not alone. Not really.
The thought scared the hell out of her. She sprang to her feet and stalked out of the bedroom.
“Morning, beautiful,” Cole said, looking as happy as she’d ever seen him.
Beautiful. Whatever her issues, she didn’t need that kind of bullshit platitude. She had no idea what she looked like, but she knew it wasn’t beautiful.
She kept walking all the way to the door. “I don’t need to be taken care of, Cole,” she snarled.
His smile blanked to shock. “What?”
“I don’t need you to feed me or offer me a place to sleep.”
“Okay,” he said carefully.
Her hand on the knob, she took a deep breath and managed a tense smile. “Thanks for the beer. I’m sure I’ll see you later. I just… I can’t stay.”
