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“Look at the date on that post,” he says, sitting back in the chair. “You’ll see these photos were from three years ago. In Vegas. That’s not even L.A.” He sighs heavily, leaning forward, elbows on his knees, trying to get my attention. “If you would have really looked at the pictures. If you would have, oh, I don’t know, for a single moment thought better of me, you would have noticed there are no bruises on my face in the photos. There are no cuts on my fingers. The person in those pictures did not just get in a fight the other day.”
He gets up and leaves the room, and I hear a side door open and close, and I’m left with the realization of how wrong I’ve been. How quick I was to think the worst of him. How fast my thoughts went to him being someone else I couldn’t trust. How ready I was to be betrayed. So much so that I saw it when it wasn’t there.
I’m such an idiot. But then, how he acted when I asked him to dinner yesterday doesn’t match either. I don’t know what to think about anything anymore.
I don’t know whether to go after Cooper or wait here. Or, maybe I should leave and go home. Give up on this. Give up on us. Maybe there is no us.
I want there to be an us.
twenty-five
Just Asking
Cooper
I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing anymore. My life has been turned inside out in a matter of twenty-four hours. In what I thought was a move to protect Sloane, I ended up alienating her. It doesn’t help that the press played on her worst fears. No wonder she was so mad at me this morning.
And then there’s my guitar, and it’s complete annihilation. Somebody out there hates me enough to do something that aggressive and destructive, and I don’t know what to think. Should I be scared? Should I be worried? Not only for me but for the people around me? Is there some psycho out for my blood? Or the blood of my chosen family? What about my real family?
There are too many questions going unanswered, and I don’t like not knowing. I’m not the kind of person who has the patience to wait for results.
Right now, I’ve got a beautiful, intelligent, caring woman sitting in my living room who I think wants the same things I do. It’s hard to tell since neither of us has talked about it, and I’m in the driveway pacing like the fucking Mad Hatter late for tea.
Fuck this.
I go back into the house, straight into the living room, and pull Sloane up from the couch. Grabbing her face with both hands, I gaze into her dark brown eyes that are now so full of surprise I have to bite down a laugh because this is important.
“I don’t want to hurt you, Sloane. You deserve so much better than me.” I’m literally shaking as I say this. “Being with me is nothing but pain. Nothing but heartache. I don’t. Want. To hurt you.”
She’s grabbing my waist, but I think it’s more to steady herself than anything else, and I feel her body stiffen at my words. She knows it’s the truth. She knows I’m nothing but a bright red flag. I can see in her eyes she acknowledges that.
“I don’t want to hurt you either, Cooper. That’s all I know how to do, too. But I don’t do it actively. I shut down and run away. I can’t promise you I won’t.”
I take her in. I take her words in. And I take them to heart. She didn’t say she wouldn’t run away. In fact, it sounds like she’s warning me that she will. But is that an absolute? Or a possibility? And does it matter to me? Is she worth the risk?
I think she is.
As I stare into her dark eyes, the air between us ignites. I'm consumed with wanting her, needing to feel her. But a voice inside screams: It's a mistake. This can only end in disaster.
Even as my body throbs for release, my mind races with warning after warning. Don't do it, Cooper. You'll destroy her. Ruin everything good here. Walk away before you cause more pain.
But the fire in her gaze melts my doubts. I ache to taste those soft lips and run my hands over her silken skin. Feel her unravel beneath me. Our chemistry is too powerful to deny.
I war within myself, teetering on the edge. Her shallow breaths draw me closer, pulling me under the waves. Still, the voice in my head persists: Turn back now. Have some fucking self-control for once.
My hands tremble with restraint even as my erection strains the front of my jeans. Our mouths hover a whisper apart, the tension pulsing between us. It would be so fucking easy to close that gap.
In this excruciating moment, I see it all. A future ablaze with passion, then burnt to ashes when I inevitably fail her. Myself in ruins, having destroyed the one person that made me believe I could be whole.
I start to pull away, to do the right thing, but the raw need reflected back at me shreds my resistance. With a groan of surrender, I crush my lips to hers, determined to sear this memory into my soul before the fire between us consumes us both.
My hands cup her face, fingers sliding into her hair. Her hands grip my shirt, pulling me closer. We dissolve into each other, all the pent-up longing pouring out. I sweep my tongue along her bottom lip, and she opens for me with a sigh. Our tongues intertwine, deepening the kiss. She tastes like honey and fire, an addictive combination.
We break apart just long enough to gasp for air before diving back in, unable to get enough. My hands roam her back, her curves pressed against me. I'm lost, drowning in her.
A hunger takes over between us, and we can’t get enough of each other. The sweet taste of her tongue caressing mine. The salt of her skin. The smoothness of her neck and shoulders. All are sensations I want to burn into my memory. I want to remember this taste for the rest of my life. I know that won’t be a problem because I won’t be able to forget it. Just like I won’t be able to forget the way her body arches into mine. Or the low moan deep in her throat that escapes when I run my hand up her thigh.
There are things in life you tell yourself, ‘I’m never going to forget this. This is a core memory.’ But you’re lying because, just as quickly, it’s erased from your mind. And then there are things etched directly onto your soul you couldn’t forget if you tried. This moment is going to leave an indelible mark on my soul that I will take with me to the grave.
