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Pinned against the door with Cole caging me in, a hand on either side of my head, I look up at him. His eyes are dark, his jaw tense, and his nostrils flaring slightly with his jagged breathing. “You okay?” he demands, his voice husky.
“Yeah,” I answer in confusion, not sure what’s brought on this level of intensity.
He runs a thumb over my cheek and places a gentle kiss there, just below my eye. Then he does the same to the other side. “You were crying.”
“Happy tears,” I explain. “You can tell how much Chance and Samantha love each other.”
His brow furrows. “You looked mad when we were walking out.”
“No, I smiled at you. You look handsome,” I argue. Both are true statements, but he’s not wrong. I was . . . mad-ish. Angry-adjacent. Irritated by proxy.
“You smiled with your mouth, but not your eyes,” he counters. “Don’t hide from me. What’s wrong?”
That’s a harder confession to make because it’s a lot more dangerous. “I didn’t like . . . I mean, not that I have any right . . . but—” I stammer, not sure how to explain that I had a momentary fit of jealousy for no good reason.
“Tell me. Whatever it is, I’ll fix it.”
He would. I could probably say anything, and Cole would do his best to repair or change whatever’s upset me without making me feel stupid.
Or needy, my heart shouts.
“She was touching you,” I confess quietly, embarrassed at my own overreaction.
I watch a smile bloom across his lips in slow motion, reaching his blue eyes and making them sparkle. “You’re jealous?”
He sounds incredulous. Like he has no idea how sexy he is, how amazing he is, and how much I want him. He’s teaching me what a relationship should be like, and like a greedy girl, I want more of it. I’ve never had anything that was mine. My whole life, I’ve had to share, had to make do with less, and was given scraps—of time, attention, and love.
But not with Cole. I want him, all of him, all the time, all mine.
Okay, my weirdo flag is starting to rise higher on the flagpole. But I can’t help it. Cole’s different from anyone I’ve ever known.
My face falls as his smile grows. He’s laughing at me, and I feel stupid after all.
“Janey,” he murmurs, forcing my chin up until I meet his eyes. And I see something other than pity or humor there. I see heat and hunger. I see fire and passion. I see . . . something I’m too scared to label because it’s only been a few weeks, but I feel it too. “If you knew the things I’d do to keep you, you wouldn’t worry about anyone else. You’d worry about me.”
Okay, that should probably be worrisome. But it’s not. At all.
He likes that I didn’t want that woman touching him. He likes that I’m a jealous, greedy girl for him. Are we both weirdos? For each other?
Probably. Because when he kisses me, sipping at my lips like he’s claiming them all over again, I feel like no one else exists. There’s no need to worry or feel jealous because there’s only us.
“Let’s go home,” Cole rumbles against my mouth. “I want to show you that you’re the only one who matters.”
I can feel what he’s talking about—in the heat from this morning that’s sprung back to life between us with only a kiss, in the thick, hard ridge pressed against my stomach, and in the achiness deep in my own core that only he can fix.
But I’m not the only person who matters. He has a whole family on the other side of this door that wants and needs him. They want him to be a part of this special event, and though he’d probably deny it, he wants that too.
It’s hard, but I shake my head, knowing it’s the right thing to do. “Tonight,” I remind us both. “First, let’s celebrate Chance and Samantha.”
He groans like he knows I’m right but is no more eager than I am to admit it. “Hate that fucker.”
But there’s no hatred in the statement. In fact, he sounds pretty fond of his brother.
Cole adjusts himself in his slacks while I straighten my dress, and hand-in-hand, we rejoin the party.
The reception is gorgeous!
The round tables are set with gold chargers, gold-rimmed plates, and gold silverware, all centered around a grouping of flowers, greenery, and brass candlesticks holding burgundy candles. There’s a wall of greenery with a neon light that says Harrington and a dance floor with black and white checkerboard flooring. The lighting is soft and romantic, especially with the lit candles on every table.
Cole leads me through the tables until we find one with some of the other wedding party members. He pulls a chair out for me next to Kayla, and after I sit, he pushes me in before sitting down on my other side. Around the table are Carter, Luna, Kyle, Kayla, and Cameron. It looks like Grace has claimed the last chair, but she’s nowhere in sight right now.
