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What the hell! It smells like him!
I toss it on the floor.
He’s not in the buff. He just said that to get me going. And it’s working. Everything is going. I can’t think about anything else.
I guess it’s better than having Mrs. Garfield’s family keeping me up all night after telling me they wanted to do everything for their mother, including CPR and a feeding tube. The poor lady was ninety-six, for fuck’s sake. I know I shouldn’t judge. Families have a lot of guilt to deal with when making those kinds of decisions. Not to mention religious beliefs and other important variables that go into the final decision.
Maybe I’m in the wrong profession.
Aunt Willa always says empathy comes from stepping out of your body, and well, I like my body.
I don’t know why I decided to become a social worker.
Shit. I do.
If you look deep enough into this body, you’ll find someone who wants to help others. Yes. It’s a part of me. No matter how many times I try, I can’t ignore it. Deep inside, I want to be a do-gooder.
Cole’s a good person. He helps people without so much as a pat on the back. Let alone hugs, flowers, or homemade cookies. I got a lot of those when I worked at the nursing home. If the families knew what was really going on in my fucked-up head, they wouldn’t have spent their Sunday afternoon baking cookies for me.
Being there for Amanda was a rush. It reached that deep spot inside and stroked it. And knowing she’s safe in a motel four hours away from the piece of shit, as most of the Daxon brothers describe the abusers, feels good as well.
I roll over on my back and drop my arms on the mattress.
I wish I had my phone. I could search the internet or read instead of lying in this overly comfortable bed thinking about Cole Daxon naked on the sofa.
I should’ve kept the burner phone I gave to Amanda.
“Fuck!” A brisk bolt of shock shoots through me.I sit up in the bed. My body breaks out in a cold sweat. “No. No. No.” I jump off the super comfy mattress and bump into a few unfamiliar walls making a mad dash to the living room.
“Cole!” I rush to the sofa.
I grip his broad shoulders.
Damn, his skin is softer than I imagined it’d be, and I didn’t expect the messed-up jolt I got from touching it. The consuming sensation shoots through me, sparking something new and strange.
It feels good but weird.
I want to withdraw from it, but instead, I shake him again. “Cole!”
“What!” He sits up, knocking me back. “What the fuck.” His eyes fly open as if everything is starting to register. “What’s wrong?” His hand shoots out. He appraises the room, coming back to me. “Are you okay?”
I look down. The sheet lays over one of his thighs. The other muscular thigh is completely exposed.
I stare down at his bare, puffed-out chest minus a T-shirt, recalling that zap of overwhelming sensations when I touched him. My eyes lower to the tightness of his stomach, the hard smoothness of his hip to his long ax handle leg.
My mouth goes dry, and dammit! My pussy gets wet.
“You’re naked,” I say as it registers.
“I warned you.” He pulls the sheet over his naked thigh. “What the fuck is going on?”
I blink multiple times to get the image of his utter perfection out of my head. His ax handle leg wrapped around me, pulling me close to his…I shake my head as if it’s going to rid me of the thought. “We have to go.”
He scrubs a hand over his face. “Go where?”
“To Tallahassee. We need to go now! I left my burner phone with Amanda.” I pace the room as I explain, attempting to shake the picture of his brief semi-nakedness from my mind. “If he traced my cell from my call to hers, then he could trace the call I made to her from the burner, right?”
“I don’t know. I’m not tech-savvy, but—”
