Chapter 26
HALLIE
Iwoke up disoriented, reaching for Colt before my brain caught up with my body. The space beside me was empty. Cold.
For a moment, I just lay there, staring up, watching the early morning light paint patterns across the ceiling. My body ached in places I hadn’t known could ache, a delicious soreness that reminded me of exactly what we’d done.
What I’d let happen.
What I’d wanted to happen, a traitorous voice in my head corrected.
A couple of times, if memory served me correctly. I remembered waking up from what I thought was an erotic dream, but as soon as I was fully awake, I realized the truth.
I sat up, pulling the sheet around myself, and took stock. My dress from last night was pooled on the floor by the door. One of my shoes was by the bed, the other halfway across the room. Evidence of how desperately we’d torn each other’s clothes off.
Heat flooded my face at the memory.
I needed to leave. Needed to get out of here before I did something stupid like analyze what last night meant or, worse, before we had to have an awkward morning-after conversation.
But curiosity got the better of me.
I slipped out of bed, found one of Colt’s shirts in his closet—soft cotton that smelled like him—and pulled it on. It hit me mid-thigh. I felt suddenly vulnerable in a way I hadn’t last night when I’d been completely naked in his arms.
Last night, he had made me feel like an absolute queen. I had felt beautiful. There was no shame. No self-confidence issues. The man worked my body and gave me orgasms so powerful I could still feel them rocking through me.
I stepped out of the room. It was quiet. Maybe Colt had left. That seemed like something he would do.
Did I want him gone? Maybe.
I would have to see him eventually, but it might be better if the morning after thing was a few days later. Give me some time to process and build up some immunity to those damn good looks.
The penthouse was quiet as I padded through it, taking in details I’d missed in our frantic rush to the bedroom.
Floor-to-ceiling windows with million-dollar views.
And that was a very literal observation.
Modern art on the walls that I couldn’t tell if I liked or if I was supposed to like.
Lots of colors splattered all over canvases. I decided it wasn’t my jam.
My gaze surveyed the rest of the room. The furniture looked expensive and uncomfortable in equal measure. There were a few pictures of him and Frankie, but it wasn’t exactly homey. It didn’t invite you to sit down, curl up with a blanket, and enjoy a rom-com.
But I supposed that would not be his thing. It was cold outside, and technically it was warm inside, but it felt cold.
This was Colt’s world. Cold, sleek, untouchable.
Except he hadn’t been any of those things last night.
I found him in the kitchen, which was way too bright for my eyes that were still adjusting. My breath caught when I looked at him.
He was shirtless, wearing only gray sweatpants that hung low on his hips. His hair was mussed, sticking up in ways that made me remember how I’d run my fingers through it while he—
Stop.
He was making coffee, his back to me. I took a moment to just look at him. The broad expanse of his shoulders. The muscles of his back moving as he worked. The way the morning light caught on his skin. I grimaced when I noticed the scratch marks on his shoulders and lower on his sides.
That was me. I knew that. And weirdly, that was exciting. It made me want to ask him to have sex with me again.
His broad shoulders sagged and his hips leaned against the edge of the counter. It made him look like he was exhausted.
Did he have another one of those dreams?
I shoved away the thought. That wasn’t my concern. That wasn’t part of this arrangement.
Except it felt like my concern. After last night, after the way he’d touched me, looked at me, held me, everything felt different.
And that was the problem. Last night he felt like my boyfriend.
I needed to re-establish boundaries. Needed to make it clear that last night was a mistake. We both needed to understand we had crossed lines we shouldn’t have crossed and it couldn’t happen again.
I cleared my throat. Colt turned, and the smile that spread across his face made me forget everything I just vowed to do. I didn’t want to go back. I liked the smiles. I liked the warmth in his eyes.
“Morning, sugar,” he said, his voice rough with sleep. “Coffee?”
“We need to talk,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Ominous.” He poured two cups anyway, putting sugar in mine the way I liked it without asking. How did he know that? “But okay. Talk.”
I took the coffee because I needed something to do with my hands, and the caffeine was definitely needed. I hated drinking champagne. It always left me feeling a little hungover. “Last night was—”
“Incredible,” he finished, leaning against the counter. “Mind-blowing. Best sex of my life.”
My cheeks flamed. “Colt, come on.”
“What? You want me to lie?” His eyes danced with amusement. “Come on right back, Hallie. You were there. You know exactly how good it was.”
“That’s not the point.”
“Then what is the point?”
“The point is we have a contract. An arrangement.” I gestured between us. “This complicates everything.”
He took a sip of his coffee, watching me over the rim. “Does it? Or does it make things simpler?”
“How could it possibly make things simpler?”
“Because now we don’t have to pretend.” He set down his cup and moved toward me. “Now we can just be honest about what we want.”
I backed up a step. “And what do you want?”
“You.” The word was simple. Easy. Direct. “I want you, Hallie. In my bed. In my life. In whatever way you’ll let me have you.”
My heart was pounding so hard I was sure he could hear it. “This isn’t part of the deal.”
“Fuck the deal.” He kept advancing until my back hit the counter. “The way you said my name when I was buried inside you sure made it seem like you wanted it.”
The bold, crass words made my entire body flush with heat. I couldn’t look at him, couldn’t meet those knowing eyes.
“That’s—you can’t just—” I stammered.
“Can’t just what? Tell the truth?” His voice dropped lower. It was like he was caressing me with the tips of his fingers. A feather-light touch meant to tease. “A good fuck here and there is just a nice perk of our arrangement. And baby, last night was a very, very good fuck.”
“Colt!” I was scandalized and turned on in equal measure. I hated that he could see both on my face. I knew he saw it because that satisfied smirk spoke volumes.
“Relax. I’m clean. Tested regularly. You don’t have to worry about that.” He leaned in closer, not quite touching me but close enough that I could feel his body heat. “Are you on the pill or one of those implant things?”
It was such a private question. Usually, that kind of information was volunteered, not asked for. Not that I would really know what was usual. It wasn’t like I went around having random hookups with men. But I knew people that did.
“That’s none of your business,” I managed to say.
He arched a brow. “Baby, when you get me as hot as you do, it is my business. If that condom breaks, I need to know what the odds are.”
That seemed valid.
I sighed. “Yes, but that’s the least of my worries right now.”
“Yes, you’re on birth control?”
“Yes. But again, this can’t happen again.”
“Sure it can.” His smile was pure arrogance. “It probably will, too. I’d say within the week, you’ll be begging for a repeat performance.”
“I will not.”
“Women are powerless to me, after all.” He said it like a fact, not a boast. “It’s just biology. Sexual chemistry. The way your body responds to mine.” His gaze raked over me. “And it responds very well, if last night was any indication.”
I wanted to argue. Wanted to tell him he was an insufferable, arrogant ass who had an overinflated sense of his own appeal.
But I couldn’t. Because he was right.
My body had responded to his. Eagerly. Desperately. In ways that still made me blush to remember.
“If you’re done being smug,” I said through gritted teeth, “I should probably go.”
“You should probably eat something first.” He moved away, giving me space to breathe again. “I was making eggs. You want some?”
The casual domesticity of the question threw me. “Uh, sure?”
He started cooking like this was normal. Like we hadn’t just had mind-blowing sex and a confrontation about what it meant. Like he made breakfast for women in his kitchen every morning.
I watched him work and tried to figure out my next move.
I needed to play the part. Needed to keep him interested, keep him wanting me, so that when July came and I walked away, it would hurt.
That was still the plan, right?
Except the plan had never included sleeping with him. Had never included waking up in his bed and wearing his shirt while he made me breakfast.
The plan was unraveling, and I needed to get it back on track.
So I changed my attitude. Forced myself to relax, to smile. “You know what? You’re right.”
He paused mid-crack of an egg. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Last night was good. Really good.” I set down my coffee and moved toward him. “Why make it complicated? We’re both adults. We both clearly want each other. Why not enjoy the perks?”
His eyes narrowed slightly, like he was trying to figure out if I was serious. “Just like that? No more talk about boundaries and contracts and how this is a mistake?”
“Just like that.”
He grinned, clearly feeling like he won.
Oh, silly boy. This is just the beginning of the war.
After eating his very fluffy scrambled eggs and drinking a second cup of coffee, I slid off the stool. “I’m going to go shower.”
“I’ll wash your hair.”
I pulled off his borrowed shirt, letting it drop to the floor as I walked. I could feel his eyes on me, could practically feel the heat of his gaze.
“Down boy,” I said over my shoulder, catching him staring at my ass. “I’m a lady. I don’t beg. And I wash my own damn hair.”
I heard him choke on something—probably his own breath—and smiled to myself as I continued to the bathroom. Two could play this game.
If Colt wanted to be all cocky and confident about sex being a “perk” of our arrangement, fine. I’d show him that I could be just as casual about it. Just as in control.
Even if my hands were shaking as I turned on the shower.
This is dangerous, I thought, letting the water wash over me. You’re playing with fire.
But I’d been playing with fire since the moment I’d signed that contract with Colt Jesson.
What was a little more heat?
I stayed in the shower longer than necessary, giving myself time to think. To plan. To rebuild the walls that had crumbled so spectacularly last night.
When I finally emerged, wrapped in one of his plush towels, I found my dress from last night laid out on the bed, along with my shoes and a note letting me know his driver would take me home. He had gone to work.
I frowned. That was not what I was expecting.
But it made sense.
Colt was still playing the game. He was still a playboy.