He looks up at me, his signature smirk in place.
Reaching out, I comb my fingers through his hair, needing him to know just how much I appreciate him.
He hasn’t asked any questions or demanded to know anything. He’s just here, silently telling me that he’s not going anywhere.
There’s a part of me that tells me to put a stop to it. To run out of his room, to lock myself in my own, and deal with this the only way I know how.
But for the first time since I walked away from Rowan, that isn’t what I want.
I want to be with Cole. I want him to remind me that not all men are like Rowan Conaway. I want to believe that Cole sees me for who I really am, not the broken girl Rowan cast aside, or the leech he just claimed me to be.
I never asked him for anything. He was the one who took me along on tour. He was the one who took me to designer stores and dropped eye-watering sums on clothes, shoes, and accessories just so we’d be photographed and the media would praise him for being a good man and boyfriend.
It was lies. All of it.
Nothing but an act.
“Oh no,” Cole warns softly, seeing my tears pool again. “Focus on me, baby. I’m right here.” He lifts my foot and presses a kiss to my arch. “Stay with me.”
I nod, watching as he moves to my other foot, removes my shoe, and repeats his actions, once again making me moan as he presses his fingers into my sore muscles.
Once he’s finished, he places both my feet on the soft carpet and stands.
I lean back on my palms and tip my head up to keep eye contact with him, but as his hands move, my gaze drops, and I watch as he works his way down the buttons holding his shirt closed.
My temperature rises with every inch of skin he reveals.
He’s so different from the man we just saw. Cole is powerful, strong, and determined in ways Rowan could never be.
I’m in awe of him and everything he’s accomplished in his life.
His shirt flutters to the floor, and then his hands drop to his waist. I follow the deep-cut V-lines, and my mouth waters when I find him straining against the fabric of his pants.
He still wants me.
Even after learning the truth, he still wants me.
Once his fly is undone, he shoves his pants down his thighs, revealing very fitted boxer briefs that leave hardly anything to the imagination.
He toes his shoes off, then kicks his pants clean off, letting me take in his thick, solid thighs.
This man is a vision.
He stands there at the end of his bed in nothing but his underwear, allowing me the time I need to take him in. When I eventually get to his eyes, he's wearing his signature smirk.
“Enjoying yourself?” he asks cockily.
“Yeah,” I confess before dragging my tongue across my bottom lip.
“If you’ve changed your mind, just say the word. But I’d really like to follow through on my promise.”
A smile twitches at my lips.
“Even after…” My words trail off.
“I don’t care about that, who he is, or what word vomit he spills. His opinion means nothing to me, Freya—less than nothing. You, however,” he says, stepping closer and looming over me. “You mean everything.”
My chest heaves as I gaze up at him, my arms trembling from holding me up.
