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His eyes flash with something, but I close mine, refusing to deal with whatever crisis of conscience Cole might be having. I need this.
I need it so badly.
Cole digs his fingers into the flesh of my hip, holding me still as he continues fucking me into oblivion. Pleasure rushes through me as my orgasm crests.
“Yes, Cole,” I cry. “Oh God, yes.”
His mouth latches onto my neck, sucking hard, hard enough to break the skin. But I’m flying so high, I don’t care.
“Fuck, Hadley, you feel so fucking good.” His pace becomes erratic as he chases away his own demons.
Reaching between us, he pinches my clit hard and another orgasm crashes over me. “Fuuuuuck.” He jerks inside, instantly stilling.
“Cole?”
He staggers back, my body sliding down the wall as he pulls up his jeans. “We shouldn’t have—”
“It’s okay, I’m only about seven weeks—”
“Don’t.” His eyes dart away from me.
“We need to talk about this, Cole.”
“I-I can’t.”
I lean down and pick up my shredded pajamas, trying to cover myself. “This is happening. We can’t just pretend—”
“I said don’t.” His eyes snap to mine, and what I see there makes me shudder.
“I know you’re scared.” I take a step toward him, clutching the torn material between my fingers. “I am too, but we’ll figure it out.”
“We?” He sneers, dodging my reach. “There is no we.” Cole pushes a hand into his hair and tugs with frustration.
“We both know that’s a lie, Cole.” I fight every instinct I have not to beat his stupid stubborn ass.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You feel something for me.” That’s why it had hurt so much when he walked away after I told him l loved him. “I know you do. We’re having a baby, Cole. A baby. We need to figure this—”
“I can’t do this,” he grits out. “I can’t... fuck. I need to go. I need—”
“Cole, please.” He's already at the door, fumbling with the handle. “Just talk to me.”
But I’ve lost him. Again. He manages to yank the door open and slip into the shadows before I can stop him.
Damn you, Cole Jagger. Damn you to hell.
The weekend brings a small reprieve. I can avoid the world and hide in my dorm room.
Which is exactly what I do.
Breaking out my secret stash of candy—avoiding the pack of Twizzlers—I laze in bed all day, watching back-to-back Channing Tatum movies. Remi calls, but I let it ring out. After another run-in with Cole, I need space.
But no sooner have I hit play on the fourth film than there’s a knock on my door. Reluctantly, I go and open it. “Conner?” I gasp, taking in his broken face. “What happened?”
“One guess.”
Dread snakes through me. “Cole?”
