I glance out, just to double-check he isn’t waiting to laugh at me. And once I’m sure the coast is clear, I dart across.
My heart is in my throat as I close the door behind me and rest against it. Anyone would think I’d just run a marathon, not a few feet between bedroom doors.
Unable to wait any longer, I march toward the bathroom and pee.
“Jesus,” I mutter when I get to the sink and look in the mirror hanging above it.
I look like I’ve been dragged through a hedge and then back again.
My makeup is smeared everywhere. My smudged eyeliner makes me look like a panda, and I’ve got red lipstick up my cheek. I’m sure in the darkness of Cole’s room, I could have been mistaken for a clown.
Reaching for my toiletry bag, I attempt to fix the situation before I peel my lingerie off and step into the shower. The water is scalding hot and my skin prickles, but I don’t adjust it. Instead, I embrace it and hope it can wash away all my regrets and embarrassment. Somehow, I’ve got to walk out there and face him. I have no idea how I’m going to manage that when all I want to do is run and hide.
24
COLE
Ihave the coffee machine ready, and as soon as I hear her turn the shower on, I press go.
Not knowing how long she’s going to take, I grabbed a travel cup to ensure it would stay warm. Something tells me she’s going to be in there a while.
Once the milk is done, I finish it off with a flower that she probably won’t even appreciate once I put the lid on, but I can’t help myself.
After finding a container on the counter full of homemade cookies, I put a couple on a plate before taking them to the guest room. Silently, I slip inside, place it all on the vanity, and then leave as quickly as possible.
Arriving home this morning has been nothing like I was expecting. But also…something I’m pretty sure I’ll always remember.
I questioned whether I should wake her. But she looked so peaceful, and clearly, she needed the extra sleep. So instead, I pulled on my workout clothes and headed for my home gym.
The image of her in her black lingerie stayed with me the whole time. It didn’t matter how fast I cycled, how heavy theweight I lifted, the image never left me. Hell, I don’t think it ever will.
It was strange enough having a woman in my apartment. But in my bed?
Shit. It’s really fucked with my head.
All I wanted to do was crawl in with her.
I never sleep that well in hotel rooms, and not just because Killer talks in his sleep. Scares the shit out of me every fucking time. Last night, he was calling out to someone, demanding they come back and help him. Fuck knows what was going on in his head, but no fucker was coming to his aid. Sometimes, I talk back just to amuse myself. Sometimes, he responds, and I’m convinced that he has to be awake, but he never remembers it in the morning.
I find it incredible that he’s able to sleep that deeply when there’s someone else in the room. I know I can’t. But then I guess we’ve lived very different lives.
He might be a little distant with his family these days, but at least he has one. And despite the tension between them, I don’t doubt that if he needed them, they’d be at his side in a heartbeat.
Killer doesn’t know what it’s like to be forced to sleep with one eye open. Sure, he might have grown up with siblings, but it’s very, very different.
A sigh passes my lips as I fall onto my couch. I lose myself in memories of the past, a place I don’t like to linger for too long, but recently, I’ve found myself going back more and more often. Hell, I’ve even gotten close to talking about it.
I’m pretty sure it’s Freya’s fault. Not that I can really find it in myself to blame her. Since she’s arrived in my life, things have changed, and despite the painful memories, I can’t say it’s for the worse.
The shower continues running long after I’m sure she should be cleaned up. Concern for her burns through me, but I refuseto go and check on her. She’s a fully grown woman—I saw that with my very own eyes as she lay there, wrapped in the most delicate lace this morning. She doesn’t need me steamrolling in and potentially seeing her naked, too.
Although I can’t say I’m overly opposed to that idea.
No, she’s already embarrassed enough. I can’t do anything that would risk making it worse. I just have to wait.
But as I do, my stomach begins growling. I wasn’t lying when I told Freya I ate before we flew, but that was hours ago.
Unable to wait, I rummage in the kitchen for snacks and fix myself a plate of cheese, crackers, and fruit, along with a huge glass of the freshly squeezed OJ Freya left in the fridge.
