Chapter Six
Lori
I’m still standing in the kitchen staring after Cole, my heart in my throat, when Cat appears in the doorway. “Hey,” she says, walking into the room and standing in front of me. “I’d hug you, but I see that look in your eyes. You’re in fight mode. How about some coffee?”
“How do you know me well enough to see that?”
“We’ve worked together and spent a lot of hours talking in between that work,” she says walking to the pot and holding up a pod. “Chocolate, right?”
“Yes,” I say, smiling with the warmth of this friendship that I so needed in my life. Like I needed Cole, and Cat and our connection led me to him.
I walk to the fridge, grab my favorite creamer, which is hers as well, and sit down. She places my brewed coffee in front of me and starts her own. “What’s going on?” she asks. “Well, aside from a crazy person attacking you in a bathroom, because I don’t think that’s what’s on your mind right now.”
I pour creamer in my cup. “Cole is worrying me. He’s not handling this well.”
“He’s worried about his wife.” She grabs her cup and sits down across from me. “That’s called love,” she adds, taking her turn with the creamer.
“I know,” I say. “But this is not the Cole I know. He’s tormented. He was tormented before we left Paris with just the idea of trouble and yet he says the threats and picketing are normal with one of these high-profile, controversial cases.”
“Oh it is,” she says. “You should have seen the insanity at the trial Reese was on when we met. It was nuts.”
“And yet Cole is going out of his mind. He seems calm, but he’s not. And he sent my mother away.”
“That was for you. He knows how you worry about her.”
“He’s not good, Cat. He will lose his mind if anything else happens.”
“Men like Reese and Cole are protective,” she says. “It’s not a bad thing. They both know how to balance that out in the right way.”
“You’re telling me that Reese loses his mind over picketers?”
“This is more than picketers.”
“He was like this before the attack,” I remind her.
She sips her coffee, her expression thoughtful. “Reese has siblings and family. They’re a mess, but he has that family unit. Cole doesn’t. His father doesn’t count. They had no relationship at all. Just throwing this out there, but Cole has been alone a long time. He cut himself off and then fell for you in a big way. He went all in, all walls down.”
“I know he did,” I say, my heart squeezing. “Even when I didn’t because I was scared.”
“Well, it’s his turn to be scared. Sometimes we think that alone is better. We can’t get hurt. Then we discover alone isn’t better, but losing the person who made you see that, is terrifying. I feel it sometimes. Reese puts himself on the line and I want to pull him back and keep him just for me.”
I flashback to Cole telling me that we’re dealing with his demons now. That’s my answer. “We were living my fears before we got married,” I say. “Now we’re living his.”
“It seems so, but his fears are all about loving you. Just love him. Listen to him. Make him talk so you can listen to him. You’ll be okay.”
“Thanks, Cat. I needed this.”
She studies me a minute. “Let’s talk about you. You were attacked.”
“I’m fine. Maybe it hasn’t hit me yet, but I’m fine. Did you hear he’s the brother of the victim in our case?”
“Yeah. That’s rough. He just wants justice.”
“It makes me want to find the real killer. We tried, though, and we couldn’t nail it down.”
“Well,” she says. “I’d say we could write a book about it together which always pressures the police, but Cole will lose his mind. It would just bring more attention to you and me. Reese might lose his mind, too.”
“Maybe if we let some time pass?”
“Maybe and we could secretly work on it on our own if we’re careful. I don’t mean keeping it from our men, but rather, keeping it from the public.”
“I love that idea.”
We chat about that idea for a few minutes, which turns into an hour and a half, with no word from Cole and Reese, which has us moving upstairs where Cat helps me unpack. Actually, Cat is lying across the bed watching me, but company counts as help. I’m just pulling out the sexy lingerie I bought in Paris from my suitcase to show Cat when a realization hits me. “I haven’t started my period.”
She sits up. “What? How late are you?”
I forget the suitcase in front of me on the floor, and bolt to my feet. “Only one day, but I’m never late.”
“You are too,” she reminds me. “That’s how you ended up on the pill.”
“But now I’m on the pill and I’m never late.”
“I’m on the pill,” she says, “and I’ve been late. I even missed once.”
“Really?” I say, feeling a small pinch of relief.
“Yes. Really. And you’re only one day late.”
“I know,” I say, “but I was in Paris. The time zones were weird. I struggled to take it at the right time.”
“Exactly. You were in Paris. Your body is all whacked out from travel and the time change, not to mention you were attacked.”
“Right, but Cole is not good right now. I don’t want to freak him out with this.”
She stands up and settles her hands on my shoulders. “You’re overreacting, which is not you. I think you’re more freaked out over the attack than you realize. You’re suppressing it and a crash is coming. Let’s drink some wine and lay down. Maybe you can fall asleep.”
“I’m not drinking wine. What if I’m pregnant?”
“You’re not pregnant, but fine, we’ll turn out the lights, talk, and try to snooze a bit while we wait on the men. Actually, why don’t you go take a hot bath? I’ll chill out here in the bedroom.”
I nod and head to the bathroom, running the water and sinking into the tub. Cat pops her head in when I’m neck deep in bubbles. “Wine?”
“No!”
She laughs and disappears, calling out, “You’re not pregnant!”
I sigh. I hope not. Not now. It’s not the time. Cole and I need to find us first and decide if we want to be parents. I just need Cole right now and I think he just needs me, too. I think he really needs me right now and I really wish he’d call or just come home.
I’m not sure when I fall asleep, but it’s some time in the middle of a long conversation with Cat about her newest book. I blink awake and it’s not Cat beside me anymore. Cole is sliding under the blankets with me, pulling me close. “Hey,” I whisper groggily, my hand settling on the rough stubble of a good two-day growth. “How are you?” I ask as his big hand lands on my hip, pulling me closer, his bare leg sliding between mine that are covered in leggings I wore because Cat was here.
“Better now that I’m here with you.”
“Where’s Cat?”
He strokes hair behind my ear. “She and Reese headed home.”
“And everything else?” I ask, catching his hand in mine, and dragging it to my chest.
“He’s still in jail and we have our restraining orders. Nothing more until tomorrow.”
“Cole, about you—”
“This isn’t about me,” he says. “It’s about you.”
“No. It’s—”
I never finish that sentence. His mouth closes down on mine, his tongue delving past my lips, the torment he’s feeling bleeding from that kiss, from him into me. I tangle my fingers in his hair, and arch into him, wanting to be closer, feeling like that is what he needs. Maybe it’s what I need. Maybe I’m more rattled than I thought, because right now, I need the safety of his arms, the security. The passion that he delivers in every touch and kiss that tells me I’m alive, he’s alive—we’re okay.
His hands slide under my T-shirt and he pulls it over my head. I work my pants down my legs, and he kicks them away. A moment later, I’m molded against him, his mouth on mine, his tongue stroking wickedly into my mouth, even as his hands caress up and down my body. But his mouth doesn’t stay on mine for very long. It travels, and he’s cupping my breasts, licking my nipples, and I’m arching into him, desperate for him in some way I have never felt. He kisses a path to my belly and lingers there, and I have this crazy random moment where I wonder if his child is in my belly that terrifies me and yet—it doesn’t. I think it would terrify him right now, but that thought is driven away when his mouth finds mine again, his body arching over mine, and he is hard in every possible way and place.
He cups my backside, and shifts us back to our sides, the hard length of him settling between my legs, and there is this heavy, sharper need that spikes between us. He responds to it, pressing inside me, stretching me, and then driving hard. I pant and he swallows it, and this time his kiss is all hot demand and possession. This time, we are wild, he is wild, and I taste more than torment. I taste demand. So much demand and then we are rocking and grinding and touching. We can’t get enough of each other and yet we need to find that place that is enough.
I tumble over the edge first, curling into the spasms that overtake me. He holds me close, almost too tight, but not tight enough, and shudders into release. We collapse into each other, and I don’t even think about getting up afterward and neither does he. I want to ask questions. I want to talk to him, but he’s still holding onto me, holding me like he’s afraid I’ll be gone tomorrow. And so, I let him. I want him to. And the peace I find in this is that he’s dealing with whatever this is right here with me. He’s not withdrawing.
And I won’t let him even if he tries.