12. Cole
My sleep is interrupted lateat night by a quiet sound. At first, when I sit bolt upright in bed, I stare around in confusion, not sure what woke me.
The blaring red light of my alarm clock tells me that it’s three in the morning. Maybe it was nothing—or maybe it was Archie, getting out of bed.
I slide my legs out of bed, pausing to shoot a glare at the clock, then rise to my feet. Time to go check on the little man and make sure everything’s okay. I’m halfway to the door when I hear another sound, louder this time, and freeze.
That was not Archie.
Suddenly, there’s a sharp, loud cry that echoes in the hallway. Riley. My heart leaps to my throat, and I bolt for the door.
I burst into her room, worried that she must be in danger, or hurt, or something. I’m not quite sure what I’m expecting to find—maybe kidnappers breaking through the window, or something—but it’s not that.
Riley shoots up in bed, breathing hard, her eyes wild. I think I must have woken her when I opened the door, but she was clearly asleep before I came in.
She clutches the blankets to her chest as I step closer.
“Are you okay?” I ask. “I thought I heard a scream, or…” I trail off, not sure what to say.
“Yes, yes,” she says quickly, her rapid breathing calming down to a normal rate. “I’m fine. Sorry.”
As my eyes adjust to the dark of her room, I begin to realize that she’s flushed, her cheeks burning red. And… I can smell something in the air, sweet and musky. The way she’s breathing so hard…
Holy fuck.
She was having a sex dream.
As soon as I realize, my imagination goes wild, thinking about all the things she could’ve been dreaming about—all of the things that could have been happening in that dream.
Fuck. She’s tempting me in the worst ways. It was bad enough to be skirting around her for so long, thinking about the way she met my gaze while I stroked my cock that night.
I would fire her so that I could fuck her, but Archie fucking loves her. I’d be an idiot to shake up the kid’s life like that, especially when things just started to get normal.
Riley looks up to meet my gaze, and her eyes widen; she clearly knows that I can tell what just happened. There’s a moment of unbelievable tension between us, thick enough to cut.
Taking pity on her, I decide to give her a way out. I clear my throat and say, “Were you having a nightmare?”
“Yes,” she blurts out. “That’s—yeah. A nightmare.”
I nod. “I get it. I have them a lot.” As soon as I say the words, I regret them. I didn’t mean to let the personal detail slip; it just seemed like the natural thing to say to ease the awkwardness. She has a way of drawing these things out of me.
Riley blinks, looking curious and somewhat surprised. Tentatively, she asks, “What do you have nightmares about?”
I sink down onto the bed with a sigh. There’s no point in dodging the question now. It’ll only make things even more awkward between us, which is the last thing I want.
“I have nightmares about my sister,” I admit. “Of the night she died. It was… awful for me. I’m in a better place now, of course—for Archie’s sake, you know—but it’s still hard.”
“Oh,” she says, wide-eyed and taken aback.
“When I’m awake, it’s not so bad. But when I’m asleep, the nightmares become impossible to avoid.”
“Is that—” She hesitates for a moment. “Is that why you bury yourself in work?”
I chuckle softly at that. “Probably not. I’ve always been a hard worker, ever since I was a kid.” I tip my head to the side, considering her words. “Maybe that’s part of it.”
* * *
Riley
Cole—itfeels wrong to call him Mr. Sullivan now that he’s in my room at three in the morning—sits on the edge of my bed. He wears a t-shirt and a pair of boxers, dark blue, plaid. His hair is slightly ruffled from sleep, and he looks groggy, unfocused. He’s so much less untouchable like this.
So much more human.
I get the sense that not everyone gets to see this side of him, and it intrigues me. Between my legs, my clit still throbs from the remnants of my dream, and I’m still embarrassed that he burst in on me like this, but now that he’s sitting and talking to me, it’s honestly not so bad.
Of course, I know that he figured out what happened. And he knows that I do. But if we’re just having a conversation—an intimate, personal conversation, at that—it will help to ease the embarrassment.
It feels like he doesn’t just see me as his perky, cheerful nanny. I’m a person to him. And I’m grateful for it.
“And I wouldn’t say I bury myself in work,” he says, in an unsmiling attempt at humor. “That’s a little uncharitable, don’t you think?”
I shrug one shoulder. “Well… you work longer hours than anyone I’ve ever known. And I knew people who pulled double shifts at the restaurant.”
Cole huffs, a sound that’s similar to a laugh, but is more of a breath. “Yeah. Well.”
There’s a pause in which I stare at him, and he stares at the floor.
Finally, he says, “You know, work is… work is never too complicated. There are never extraneous variables—at least, not ones that can’t be dealt with.”
I nod, trying to encourage him to keep talking.
“I’m always in control. I always know what to say. It serves me well in my line of work, and it serves me better there than it does anywhere else.”
I nod again, but as I look at him, I can’t help but think that all of this, the controlling facade, is just that—an act. A defense. His way of trying to protect himself, or something.
And I have to wonder what Cole needs protecting from. What Cole, a man with more money than I can even fathom, with a hard jawline and harder body, could possibly be afraid of.
There’s so much I want to know about him, and this is the best chance I’ve ever gotten to ask any of it. But before I can think of an appropriate question, he stands.
Sheepishly, I remember why he’s here. I lie back down, and to my surprise, he leans over the bed, pulling the comforter back up over my shoulders. I gaze up at him, and that tension is there again, a heat building between us.
For a moment, I think he might kiss me.
Just like I did before I fell asleep, I ask myself if it’s all in my head—if I’m the only one who feels it.
Then his jaw tightens and he pulls away. He groans something under his breath, barely audible.
“You’re going to be the death of me.”
My heart thuds in my chest as he shoots me one more glance, then turns to leave the room.
I stare after him. Once he’s out in the hallway, the door closed behind him, I let out a shaky breath.