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When Amelia’s around, I can’t seem to want anyone else.
14
AMELIA
It’s late Sunday night when Cole and I finally arrive in his apartment. Cole hasn’t touched me since we left my parent’s sight. I thought that was what I wanted. I thought it would make being around him easier if he went back to staring at his phone and ignoring me.
But if anything, it makes me more aware of him. He’s being so careful not to touch me, all I can think of is his hands on me in a dark theater. I can’t help but notice the way his phone lights up the angles of his face. I see the intent focus on his face and remember when all that energy was trained on me.
I told Cole my lapse of judgment in the theater wasn’t personal. And I wasn’t lying. Not exactly. It has been a while since I had sex. With all the stress of the last few weeks, there is a part of me that just wants to give in to my body and burn off some steam.
But it wasn’t the whole truth either. This thing between me and Cole, thisdesire,is so much more intense because it’s him. He’s by turns warm and cold, kind and sarcastic. He’s wickedly smart, but he won’t gamble, even when the odds are in his favor. He’s always in control, except when my touch turns him wild.Or when he’s holding back all that power for my benefit, saying things likeWhat you want is the most important thing that matters here.
I shiver at the memory.
“Cold?” Cole asks as he sets down our suitcases.
“No,” I say.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask Cole if he wants to order food or watch a movie. Maybe if we keep doing normal, nonsexual things, I can trick my brain into putting him back in the friend box. The roommate box. The boss box.
Maybe.
“I need to work,” Cole says, without looking up from his phone. “But I got something for you. I hope you like it.”
And then he’s striding off toward his office before I can ask what he means.
I wonder if he’s actually got work at 9:30 p.m. on a Sunday night. Or if he’s just trying to avoid me.
Either way, it’s probably for the best. Maybe it will be easier to stop thinking about Cole if I can keep him at least two flights of stairs away.
I head upstairs with my suitcase, wondering what he got me. Probably more outfits some stylist picked out.
The clothes are fun, but not if they’ll mean I have to spend more time with Cole’s dad.
I step into my room, kick off my shoes, and notice a cardboard box on my bed, addressed to me. The box itself is black, classy, and free of labels. I open it up, confused at first by the curve of purple silicon.
What the ...?
I spot the instruction booklet at the same time my fingers find a button that makes the whole thing vibrate.
I blink. Cole got me a vibrator.
Cole. Got. Me. A. Fucking. Vibrator.
I know our boundaries got messy this weekend. But this is too much. How am I supposed to meet his eyes at work when he knows I’m getting off with the sex toy he bought me?
The idea sends a flash of heat through me.
Also, what kind of weird possessive shit is this? Neither of us can have sex with anyone for six months, but he can buy me vibrators? Does he think I don’t know how to take care of my own needs? Is this his way of making sure I’m thinking of him when I...
No.No.This has gone too far.
I pick up the box, drop the vibrator in it and storm downstairs. I march down the spiral staircase, across the living room, and throw open the door to his office.
Cole looks up from his laptop, brows drawing together. “Amelia? Are you ok—”
“What the hell were you thinking?” I demand. “Giving methat...” I struggle for the words.
