Harrison might no longer exist in my world, but my mother does, and she’s always at the root of my thoughts.
“What are you doing?” I laugh, rising on my feet to meet her there.
“I’m giving a toast,” she says with a smile, handing me my glass.
“To what, exactly?”
“To you, putting yourself first, and doing whatyouwant for a change.” She holds her glass in the air, and I copy her movements. “Don’t think about the possibility of getting your heart broken, or feeling things that may not exist. Stop worryingabout things that are out of your control, and focus on the things thatare.”
“I don’t know how to put my wants first, C. Why start now?”
“Because you deserve it, and because I said so. Now, drink back that tall, room temperature glass of water, go jump in the shower and clean yourself up. I’ll take care of the kitchen. Put on your nicest outfit, and go tell Cole you want him to fuck you into Sunday.” She smacks me on the ass with an obnoxious laugh as I head toward the bathroom, a slight pep in my step.
“TodayisSunday, Wingrove.” I smirk, standing at the open door, and her laughter continues.
“Then you have all night to ease that tension that I canfeelradiating from you. Or, you know, the next seven days.” She marches over to me, shoves my body inside the room, and slams the door shut in my face. “I don’t hear the water,” she shouts and I roll my eyes, knowing full well she can’t see me, but I do as she says, anyway, and let the water fall. “Better.” Her voice echoes around the room while I slip out of my cake-covered clothes, and into the running stream.
“I approve,” my best friend says when I walk out of my bathroom with a towel wrapped around my body. My long, blonde hair is still damp and thrown over my shoulder.
“You expect me to go to his apartment in nothing but a towel? God, what has Harley turned you into? You sex crazed maniac.” She snickers as I walk past her to search for clothes before I head back to the bathroom.
I blow dry my hair, giving it the body and the treatment it’s been lacking, parting it in the center with freshly cut curtain bangs. I slip on the only pair of lingerie that I packed—black to match my cold, dead heart—a bright red body suit, and I force my thighs into skin tight, high-waisted black jeans. They accentuate every curve and hip dip I have, and as much as Ican’t stand them, Cole obsesses over them every chance he gets. “How’s this?” I ask, still barefoot as I step out of my room.
“If I were into girls, I’d do you myself.” She fans her face with her hands and I giggle nervously. “Proud of you, J. Go get some ass.” She wiggles her brows, throwing her bag over her shoulder and heading out the door, leaving me in my sparkling clean kitchen, completely alone with my thoughts.
Am I really about to tell a guy that being friends with benefits is what I want, even if I run the risk of being shut down?
Apparently so, because my feet are sliding into the same pair of red bottom heels that I wore on night one, and I’m watching as the elevator doors close with me inside it.
Guess this is who I am now.
Riding it to the top floor, I steady my breathing as best as I can while impatiently waiting for it to stop moving, and for the doors to open. Sticking my head out, I look both ways to make sure no one sees me before I take my first step, and make my way down the hallway to the apartment that I know belongs to him.
Taking a leaf out of his book, I twist at the handle and find that it’s unlocked like the hypocrite he is, before pushing it open. A startled Tate greets me in his boxer briefs on the couch playing video games.
“You,” I tell him, handing him the keys to my apartment. “Leave. Make yourself comfortable at my place.” I all but push him out the door without so much as a chance to fetch any clothes, before dead-bolting it behind me.
“And you,” I say right as Cole walks out of his bathroom with the towel wrapped around his waist. “I’m here, I’m sober, and I finally have the courage to tell you that you need to fuck me as many times as you want, because I’m sick of ignoring this for what it is.” I drop my phone onto his couch, slipping my feet out of my heels as I say the words I’ve been so desperate to say.
“And what is this, Snow?” He arches a brow, his drool worthy, GQ model-esq, photoshopped looking body leaning against the door frame of his bathroom with his arms crossed over his toned, tanned chest.
“You wanted friends with benefits, right? An expiration date?” I ask, and his brows furrow, but he nods to mask it. “Then friends with benefits is what this is. It ends on the date filming does and we both go back to wherever we came from.” And with that, I close the gap between us eagerly, and he grips the back of my hair in the palm of his hand before his mouth connects with mine.
He breaks our lips apart briefly, and mine tingle at the loss. “You didn’t come here to get your toy and leave?”
“Fuck the toy, Cole. Just give me you.”
He slams his mouth back down on mine, my palms resting on his bare chest as his laughter rumbles through it.
He pulls away again. “If we’re going to do this, I need you to know that I won’t share you with anyone, Snow. No one else touches you.” He tucks part of my fringe behind my ear, resting his hand on my cheek.
“I don’t want anyone else, Cole. Only you,” I say, because it’s true.
It’s not that I don’t want anybody else totouchme. I just don’t think I want anybody else, period.
“You’re going to regret saying that, baby, because once this starts, I’m not going to want to stop.”
Chapter twenty-four
