Chapter 12
Hailey
The problem with romantic Christmas movies is that they trick your nervous system into thinking everything is going to work out because it’s wrapped in bows and Tiffany blue wrapping paper.
Snow is falling in high-def on my TV, some perfectly blow-dried heroine is about to reconcile with the lumberjack mayor, and I am… half-asleep on my couch in a hoodie and fuzzy socks, surrounded by leftover take-out containers and the scent of my favorite seasonal evergreen candle.
I blink slowly, tipping my head back against the cushion. I’m just starting to drift when the knock comes. My eyes fly open and I stare off, trying to figure out if the sound came from the movie or if someone is actually at my door.
Then another loud, hard, sharp knock vibrates the door. My eyes fly open even wider and my heart skids to what feels like a complete stop. Nobody just shows up at eleven-something at night unless it’s bad and nobody even knows me in this city.
Oh God, what if there was an accident back home and it’s the cops coming to tell me my entire family died!
I shove the blanket off, stumble to the door, and peek through the peephole. “Wait, that’s not…” I rub my eyes and look again. No, it very much is him. Cole. My stomach does an Olympic-level flip.
He’s placed one hand on either side of my doorframe like he needed to stop himself from pacing. His head is hanging down slightly between his shoulder blades. I take a deep breath, bracing myself for whatever he’s about to say, and open the door.
“I might be a lot of things,” he says without even a hello, voice low and rough, “and I am an asshole through and through. I’ll give you that, but I’m not a fucking cheater.”
I just… blink. “Okay,” I say, because what else do you say to that at eleven thirty at night in your Rudolph socks?
He exhales like he’s been holding it since the market, shouldering past me gently and nudging the door shut with his boot. I let him, because honestly? I’m too stunned to do anything else.
He paces once in my tiny living room, scrubbing a hand over the back of his neck.
“That woman at the coffee shop? Mercedes.” He looks at me, eyes spearing mine.
“She’s my project manager. Her husband, Eli, works for me.
He’s a damn good friend and I would never disrespect him like that.
She and I were having a meeting, and she wanted to pick my brain about a watch she has her eye on for Eli for Christmas. ”
The words land heavy and fast as I try to process it all. “Oh.” Suddenly, I feel like a complete ass for the way I behaved earlier tonight.
“Yeah. ‘Oh.’” His mouth ticks, humorless.
I fold my arms over my chest, mostly because I’m braless. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because it pissed me off that you’d think I’d do that,” he snaps, then reins it in, pinching the bridge of his nose. “And because—” He steps in closer. “Because it mattered to you.”
My laugh comes out thin. “Actually, it doesn’t matter to me who you kiss or fuck, Cole. You made it pretty clear you didn’t want it to be me.”
“I lied,” he says, lunging toward me like a wild animal that’s finally caught its prey. “I’ve been lying since the second you opened that damn apartment door.”
My pulse roars in my ears. I tip my head up to him. “Then what do you want?”
He doesn’t answer with words.
He just grabs me, his big hands at my waist, pulling me into that hard body like he’s been starving for it. Then his mouth crashes down on mine and it’s nothing like the elevator.
It’s hotter and sexier and so damn hungry it feels like this man is pouring his soul into me. It’s him kissing me like he came all the way over here at midnight in the snow just to do this.
His mouth devours mine one slow, languid kiss at a time. His hands slide up my sides, rough and desperate, and I can’t decide if I want to shove him away or pull him closer.
“Cole,” I whisper against his lips, but it comes out more like a plea.
He pulls back just enough to look at me, breathing hard. “I don’t care if you believe a damn word I say.” His voice is gravel and regret. “But believe this, I can’t stop thinking about you.”
I blink up at him, trying to get air back into my lungs. “You can’t just show up here, say that, and expect me to—”
He closes the distance again, his hands finding the hem of my hoodie, thumbs brushing the sliver of bare skin at my waist. “Expect you to what?” His tone is low, coaxing, dangerous. “Forgive me? Hate me? Let me touch you?”
My breath stutters. “All of the above.”
His eyes drop to my mouth, then lower. “Then I’ll start with the one I’m best at.”
He kisses me again, slower this time. Every inch of me lights up like I could come from just this and I hate how easily my body forgets every reason this is a bad idea.
I push at his chest, but it’s like pushing a brick wall. “Why should I believe you?” I breathe, my voice shaking. “You say you lied, but now you’re here saying you didn’t mean it.”
He braces a hand beside my head on the wall, trapping me between him and it. “Because I’m a fucking idiot, Hailey.” His other hand slides up, thumb tracing my jaw. “I told myself I didn’t want this. Didn’t want you. But every damn night since that elevator, I can’t stop seeing you.”
The air between us crackles. His confession hangs between us. He leans closer, his mouth brushing the edge of my ear. “You drive me insane.”
I shiver. “Good.”
That pulls a low, dangerous laugh from him. “You’ve got a smart mouth.”
He kisses down my neck and I gasp when his teeth graze my skin. He murmurs something against my throat about the taste of my skin. His hands are everywhere now—spanning my waist, sliding down to the curve of my hips, gripping me like he’s afraid to let go this time.
My back hits the edge of the kitchen island before I realize we’ve moved. He presses closer, his breath ragged.
“You need to ask for my forgiveness first,” I manage, my voice trembling but defiant.
That gets a flash of a grin. “Oh, sweetheart,” he says, voice gone dark. “I’ll do better than ask.”
He kicks off his boots, the thud echoing against the cabinets. He drops to his knees in front of me, eyes locked on mine, reverent and filthy all at once.
“Cole—” I lift my leg, pressing my bare foot against his chest.
“I’ll gladly beg,” he murmurs. “But I’d rather earn it.”
I swallow hard, heartbeat wild. “And how exactly are you planning to do that?”
His hand wraps around my ankle, his thumb gently rubbing small circles. “Thought I’d start here,” he says, voice a shade lower. He drags my leg to the side, opening me, leaning in between my thighs. “And work my way up.”
He runs his nose up my inner thigh. Fire.
That’s the only word that comes to mind to describe the instant burn I feel.
I gasp, fingers gripping the edge of the island behind me.
He inhales shamelessly at the edge of my panties and his eyes flutter shut like I’m the best thing he’s smelled in thirty-one years. And I know I’ve lost all my defenses.
“Then I’ll finish with my tongue inside you,” he murmurs, mouth right there. “Till you forget you were mad.”
My knees nearly buckle. “Oh God.”
He kisses over the thin cotton, slow, teasing, like he’s tasting me through it.
I feel every hot press, every drag of his tongue against the material.
My head falls back. He hooks his fingers in the waistband, and I help him, lifting so he can strip them down.
He doesn’t even toss them to the side, instead letting them pool at my feet.
He leans in, pressing one single kiss to my bare pussy, then stands.
He looks around me to the island like he’s searching for something but then quickly reaches up and pulls his shirt over his head, tossing it onto the counter.
My eyes drop to his chest and oh my God, yes. His body is unlike any other man I’ve been with. In fact, he makes them look like boys. I reach my hand out almost instinctively, touching his thick pec that’s peppered with dark hair.
“Up,” he says, his hands on my waist as he lifts me, then places my bare ass on his shirt on the counter.
“So you’re not cold,” he murmurs, kissing me softly.
His tongue slides into my mouth just briefly before he’s pushing me to my back and spreading my legs over his shoulders.
His hands clamp to my thighs, thumbs stroking my skin gently, holding me open and helpless.
“Wait.” My thighs attempt to close, but he pushes them farther open. “I—I didn’t shower after work and then the marketplace.”
His eyes flash to mine, his smile devious. “Even better.” He licks his lips slowly, his hands spreading me open fully now. “I want to taste you, not a shower.”
There’s no slow warm-up, no shy testing the waters. It’s just tongue, mouth, and heat right where I need it. I cry out, fingers diving into his hair. He groans into me like the sound turns him on, like the taste does, and it just… spirals.
He licks me like I’m dessert, like he came over here in a snowstorm for this and only this. Broad tongue up the center, then a soft suck on my clit that has my hips jerking. I’m muttering nonsense, begging, swearing. He just tightens his grip.
“That’s it,” he rasps against me. “Give it to me, baby.”
He turns his head slightly to change the angle, sliding one long, single finger deep inside me as his lips wrap around my clit.
I break. It crashes through me hot and fast, toes curling, belly pulling tight. I moan his name long and loud, but it trails off into nonsense. He groans like it’s the best reward, riding me through it, licking me through it. Lapping at my release like he can’t get enough.
I’m still shaking when he does it again.
He slows, teases, slides two fingers inside me this time and sucks me gently until the sparks build again. I don’t even realize I’m pleading until I hear myself.
“Cole—please, please—”
“Please what,” he says, rough, hungry. “Tell me.”
“Let me come,” I gasp, my hands clawing at the counter beneath me.