Chapter 4
Aurora
Three raspberry mojitos later, I'm convinced that Cole is one of the most fascinating men I've ever met. The conversation flows effortlessly between us, punctuated by laughter and lingering glances that make my stomach flutter.
He tells me about his daughter, Hollie, and the way his face softens when he talks about her makes my heart squeeze. He's a single dad doing his best, clearly devoted to his little girl despite the challenges.
“She's obsessed with Christmas this year,” he says with a fond smile.
“Keeps asking if Santa knows where we live, if the reindeer like carrots or prefer something fancier.” He chuckles, shaking his head.
“My mum's got her for the next two nights doing all sorts of festive activities.
I think they're making enough gingerbread to feed the entire city. Though, knowing my mum, the gingerbread could double as a weapon of mass indigestion.”
We share a small chuckle, his eyes fixed firmly on mine, making the butterflies in my stomach flutter even faster.
“That sounds adorable,” I beam, genuinely charmed. “What made you decide to stay here instead of going home?”
He swirls his whisky with a furrowed brow.
“Empty house syndrome, I suppose. The place feels too big without my little Hollie-Pop running around. Figured I might as well treat myself since I was meeting the boys here anyway.” He grins.
“Though they both bailed on me tonight, I’m pleased to say I found better company. ”
My cheeks warm at the compliment. “You picked a great hotel. I've been here the past couple of weeks, and it's been just wonderful.”
“Meeting present company obviously being the highlight, Sweetheart.”
He smirks roguishly as the nickname sends a pleasant shiver through me, though I cover it with a giggle. “The highest highlight, obviously, Hotshot. London at Christmas ain't got nothing on you.”
“So what is it you do?” I ask. “You know, when you're not making women laugh with cringe-worthy pickup lines?”
“CFO,” he says with a wry smile. “Lots of spreadsheets and financial projections. Riveting stuff. You?”
“Honestly? I'm sort of between positions at the moment. Taking a bit of a breather.”
“A breather sounds nice,” he says, no judgment in his tone. “Everyone should take one of those occasionally.”
“Exactly my thinking. Life's too short not to take a pause when you need one.” I gesture around us. “Hence the extended hotel stay and the full embrace of London at Christmas.”
“Well, I'm certainly glad you decided to pause here tonight.”
My cheeks warm again. “Me too, Hotshot. Me too.”
Conversation continues to flow between us, moving from his friends' various disasters to my love of London's hidden gems, from his daughter's apparent obsession with sparkly things to my obsession with spicy romance novels.
“So you're telling me,” he says with mock seriousness, “that you judge people based on whether they've read Penelope Costa?”
“Not judge, exactly,” I protest, unable to contain my laughter. “More like...evaluate their taste level. Gauge our conversational compatibility. Maybe assess whether they're worth investing more time in. Time is our most valuable possession, after all.”
He nods before taking a sip from his whisky, never breaking eye contact as he questions, “And where do I fall on this assessment scale?”
I make a fuss of pretending to consider his question very carefully before allowing a playful smile to tip my lips.
“Well…you didn't run screaming when I mentioned my partiality for reading smut in public, so that right there is promising. But I'll need more data to make a final determination.”
His eyes darken, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. The air between us thickens—suddenly heavy.
Electric.
Humming with something that feels perilously close to desire.
My skin prickles with awareness, and I can feel my pulse begin to gallop. The answering tension in the set of his shoulders, the way his jaw tightens, how his throat works when he swallows a mouthful of whisky, eyes never leaving mine.
“I’d be more than happy to provide additional data, Rory,” he murmurs, his husky voice low enough to make my pulse stutter and heat pool low in my stomach.
His words seem to vibrate through me, and my breath hitches audibly.
The space between us feels charged, like the air before a lightning strike.
For a heartbeat too long, neither of us moves, our gazes locked. The space between us feels alive, every charged second daring one of us to cross it. My fingers itch to reach for him, to close the scant inches between us and discover if his lips are as firm as they look.
What I’d said earlier is true. I’ve never been picked up at a bar—cheesy chat-up lines or otherwise—but the sexual chemistry zinging effortlessly between us is almost overwhelming.
Cole’s heated eyes drop to my lips when I tug my bottom lip between my teeth, his nostrils flaring before Steve clears his throat nearby.
With the spell broken, we both glance over to see the bartender giving us a knowing look.
“Last call in fifteen minutes, folks.”
The announcement jolts me like a splash of cold water. Last call. The evening is ending, and with it, this perfect bubble that Cole and I have created.
I glance at him, finding his eyes already on me, that same heated intensity that's been building all night now impossible to ignore. My heart hammers against my ribs as possibilities swirl through my mind—dangerous, thrilling possibilities I've never entertained before.
“I should...” I gesture vaguely toward the restrooms, needing a moment to collect myself and think clearly without those penetrating green eyes scattering my thoughts. “Be right back.”
His lips curve into a knowing smile, and he nods. “I'll be here, Sweetheart.”
That nickname. God, it does things to me every single time.
I slide off my barstool, hyperaware of his gaze following me as I make my way to the ladies' room. My legs feel unsteady, though whether from the mojitos or the electric tension crackling between us, I honestly can't say.
When I arrive at my destination, I plant my palms on the mirror and expel a slow breath as I attempt to gather myself.
As I regard my reflection, a smile grows on my lips when I genuinely like what I see.
My cheeks are flushed, and my wavy hair is a thing of the past, but the sparkle in my eyes is undeniable.
And it’s not from the raspberry mojitos I’ve had since I sat down beside Cole.
It’s the conversation that hasn’t stopped flowing for the past couple of hours. It’s the easy connection that makes me feel like I’ve known him far longer than the meagre time we’ve shared.
It’s the look in his eyes as they observe me. As they lazily wander across my flesh and make it come to life. Almost like a physical caress.
Single dad. Married to his work. Meets his friends religiously at least once a week. Reads manga and watches reruns of Friends to unwind. Has a wicked sense of humour, not to mention the smile that could melt the panties clean off a God-fearing nun.
And if he calls me Sweetheart…One. More. Time…I’ll melt into a puddle bar side.
What’s not to appreciate?
You like him!
My stomach flutters at the admission, and I draw my bottom lip between my teeth, nibbling it as an entirely uncharacteristic idea begins to take root.
The boys I dated back home were few and far between. I’d never felt the urge to sleep around like some of my friends, and in fact, losing my virginity had felt almost perfunctory.
Another item off the checklist so I wasn’t the only virgin at university. The fact that it was mediocre at best didn’t help, but honestly, I couldn’t have cared less. Trivial things like sex barely made a blip on my radar.
I had big dreams to follow—get my degree in early childhood education so that I could leave my small town and see the world.
When I graduated at the top of my class, Harrington Helpers headhunted me, and it was the most perfect position I could’ve wished for.
Most of their clientele travelled extensively, so it was really a no-brainer.
I could combine my two dreams: explore far-off places while helping to mould the next generation through nurturing my charges.
But then I’d set foot in London, and well…that was that. I fell hook, line, and sinker. The city cloaked me within her embrace, and I couldn’t have wished for a more fulfilling relationship.
In my year here, I’ve never once been on a date. My Saturdays have always been reserved for exploration, for cultivating the growing bond with my captivating home.
No mere man could ever compete with the city that feeds my soul, so why even dip my toe in the dating pool?
But this man… From the first moment I felt Cole’s eyes on me—as I surreptitiously shot glances his way when he mistakenly thought I was still absorbed in my book—I could feel a palpable attraction connecting us.
I’ve never felt anything as physical in my entire life.
His absolute magnetism had gripped me and continued to hold me in its vise as a willing prisoner.
The tension between us has been electric. Almost like verbal foreplay.
Not that I have much experience with foreplay of any sort, thanks to my grand total of three apathetic lovers.
I roll my eyes at my reflection, for the first time feeling as though I’ve been missing out on something.
But maybe it’s time to change that…
I’m single with no commitments—at least until I take another placement—so why shouldn’t I allow myself to be utterly impulsive for just this once?
What’s the worst that could happen?
And with that at the forefront of my thoughts, I dry my hands and slip from the restrooms, feet moving briskly back toward the Mirror Bar. As I re-enter, I grab the spare room keycard from my bag and flatten it discreetly against my palm.
My heart slams against my chest as my anxieties almost talk me out of doing what I’m about to do, but my forehead creases in determination while my feet close the distance between us.
Cole is still exactly where I left him, chatting idly with Steven about the impending London Derby between Arsenal and Tottenham when I slide back onto my stool.
The barman discreetly disappears as Cole’s eyes envelop me, taking me inside those emerald-green depths completely as his face lights up with a smile.
Two dimples mostly hidden behind his impeccably groomed dark brown facial hair wink right at me, making butterflies take flight in my belly as I return his smile.
The feelings this man elicits within me mere hours after meeting him tell me this is the right decision.
“You’re a sight for sore eyes, Sweetheart—”
I bite my lip nervously as Cole slams to a halt when I drop the keycard onto the bar, his green eyes flaring with unmistakable desire as he shifts his gaze to mine.
“Room 3103.” My eyes flicker between his as my heart almost beats out of my chest. Taking control of a situation has never made me feel more powerful, and I bask in the feeling.
Then I lean closer, flipping my hair over one shoulder, and the feeling intensifies when his jaw tics, his eyes devouring me. “Give me five minutes.” And without another word, I hop down from my seat and smoothly exit the Mirror Bar.
I stride directly to the elevators, keeping my eyes focused dead ahead. When I reach my destination, I slam the call button and step inside.
The car moves at a snail’s pace as my heart continues to hammer, the sound filling my ears until I finally arrive at my room. Once I’ve quickly freshened myself up, ensuring all my lady gardening is up to par, I’ve just left the ensuite when there’s a rap on the door.
My stomach dips before I answer it to find Cole leaning against the frame with a smirk on his sinfully handsome face. His shirt sleeves are rolled up, revealing tanned forearms covered with intricate tattoos that end just before his wrists.
He’s the epitome of those book boyfriends I read about, and I bite my lower lip as I subconsciously file this moment away for future self-gratification.
Cole chuckles deeply, the sound sending a shock of desire straight through me, pooling in my lower abdomen. “I might be early. But I couldn’t wait any longer.”
Then he reaches up to brush back strands of dark hair that have fallen across his brow, giving him an almost boyish look. “Truthfully, Rory, I’ve craved your lips on mine from the first moment I saw them…”
My voice is husky and entirely not my own, as are my actions, when I grab the hem of my top to tug it up and over my head, leaving me in just my simple white bra.
Then, tossing my top at him with a smirk, I tease, “I was hoping for a helluva lot more than kissing, Hotshot.”
He catches it and throws it aside while stepping further inside the room. His eyes darken in a way that sends a delicious shiver of anticipation through me, but it’s his response that makes my knees weak even as my body thrums to life.
“Kissing is just for starters, Sweetheart.” The intensity in his gaze almost floors me as he stalks closer until his hard body is pressed against mine.
His utterly masculine scent fills my nostrils, and my breathing turns to short pants.
“For the main course, I’m going to fuck you until you can’t stand up.
Until you’re begging me…desperate for me to stop because you can’t take any more. ”
His hand snakes out between us, gently gripping my neck as a low whimper rises in my throat.
“And for dessert, I’m going down on my knees to worship your pussy until your throat is raw from screaming my goddamn name.” His eyes flicker between mine as arousal shamelessly coats my panties. “Say yes, baby. Say you want me the way I want you. Be mine tonight.”