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“Then you just went boneless. I backed off to see what was up and you slid down the wall. Scared the hell out of me.”
“Oh no. I’m sorry.” I rub my hand over his chest, only now realizing that his heart is racing.
Pushing myself up into a seated position, I take full stock of Cole. He’s still naked, but instead of lounging on the bed in his normal relaxed style, his muscles all have a hard, tense look to them. Plus, when I meet his eyes, I find myself looking into overly wide pupils.
Maybe I’m not the one we should be worried about.
“How doyoufeel?” I ask, cupping his face in my hands.
His lids close as a deep breath fills his chest. “I’m not the one who passed out.”
“But if you were, I would’ve been pretty shook up.” And I realize just how much when the scenario flashes through my mind. “So, how do you feel?”
“Fine.”
His answer is too quick to be genuine. “I don’t think you are. You can tell me if something is wrong, Cole. I swear I won’t judge you.”
He watches me, and his tongue fiddles with his lip piercing before he gives me an answer. “A few years back my dad had a heart attack.”
Guilt stabs past my ribcage. “And me passing out reminded you of that?”
Instead of saying anything, Cole sits up to wrap me in his arms and tug me back down to his chest. We lay in his bed, cuddling for a long time.
“If you ever feel lightheaded, tell me,” he whispers eventually.
“I will. I promise.”
His reaction to this whole situation has my world tilting out of balance. Bad boys aren’t supposed to be sweet and cuddly. They get uncomfortable when having to deal with real issues, like a girl losing consciousness. They dump a bucket of cold water on her, ask if she’s drunk, then call a cab to send her home.
Cole cradles me like I’m a family treasure made of glass.
My mind still swirls as my body reminds me we’ve been going at it for a few hours now. Maybe I just need to sleep, and then things will make sense.
“I should head home,” I murmur a second before a yawn almost cracks my jaw in half.
“Stay the night,” Cole whispers against my damp hair.
“Okay.”
“That was easy.” I hear the smile in his voice even as my eyes fight to stay open.
“Too tired to move.” And Cole’s chest suddenly feels like the softest mattress. Okay, maybe not the softest. The guy could probably do with some larger meals. Still, he’s pretty comfy.
“You want a shirt to sleep in?”
I shrug. “Naked works fine.” Maybe it’s the lingering effects of losing consciousness, but the idea of sleeping without clothes doesn’t spark even a hint of modesty.
Cole slides us down in the bed and pulls a sheet to cover us both. He mutters something that sounds an awful lot like “You’re perfect,” but I don’t quite catch it.
My mind is in that murky half-sleep state when a thought occurs to me.
“You know what this means right?” I whisper against Cole’s chest.
“What’s that?”
“You’re literally too hot for me to handle.”
The sound of his snort is the last thing I remember before falling asleep.
