“Oh.” She looked from Easy to Cole, aware she’d stumbled into a thicket of male ego and hurt pride. “Did he say that?”
“No, he said he wanted to give me more opportunities.”
She wanted to ask why, wanted to ask what had happened, but she worried it would be like a tiny crack in a pressurized tank. One little tap and it would spread, bright and ominous notes of warning chiming that it was about to explode.
“He’s worried about my leg,” Cole said softly.
“But that’ll heal eventually.”
“Yeah,” he said. “Probably.”
Grace felt her skin go cool as she realized what he was saying and hoped he didn’t mean it.
“It’ll be fine,” he said so softly that she barely heard it.
“What if it’s not?”
“It will be.”
She heard fear in those words, but more than anything else, she heard weariness. An unyielding weight of exhaustion that she immediately recognized. When you were looking straight at a wall and there was no way around it. No way under or over. She knew in that moment it seemed that there was nothing to do but lie down and give up the ghost. Just lie down and hope life was over with quickly instead of lasting too long.
She’d been there. Recently, but also many times in the past. Hell, she might even be there right at this moment, but she hadn’t looked around and realized it yet.
She wanted to touch him. The thought hit her so suddenly and completely that it scared her. She wanted to touch him and feel his hands on her, too. A connection. Something to anchor two lost people.
His hands
. His mouth. They’d make her feel real. And she could do that for him, too.
He glanced up and froze. His pupils tightened as if he could read the need on her face. She had to part her lips to get enough air.
Cole raised his hand as if he meant to brush a hair from her face, but instead he touched his thumb to her mouth. Grace closed her eyes and shuddered. That was all it took with him. One touch and she forgot her resolution to stay away. To be pissed. To never want anything from him.
His hand fell away, sliding down to her shoulder, then down her arm until he wrapped her fingers into his. “Come on.”
Come on. The only words it took to seduce a girl like her. She let him lead her out of the saloon and back to his apartment. Grace walked to his bedroom before he’d even closed the front door.
* * *
COLE DIDN’T KNOW WHY he felt so desperate. He’d been entirely spent not twenty-four hours before and exhausted by a day of stress and frustration. But one look from Grace and his heart was pounding with so much need it felt like panic.
She pulled her shirt over her head and then they fell to the bed, hands grasping each other, mouths devouring. He was hard as a rock already, and he gasped with relief when he ground his cock against her. Her legs wrapped around him, her hips rocking.
He wanted to be inside her already, but he couldn’t conceive of letting her go long enough to get her jeans off. So he just pushed himself against her and listened to her moan in approval. Her hands crept beneath his shirt. Her nails dug into his skin and scratched at his lust until it howled.
He wanted to fuck her until she screamed. He wanted to make her sorry she’d left the way she had. Sorry she’d even wanted to leave.
“Cole,” she groaned. Her hands slid beneath his jeans and forced his hips tighter to her. “Fuck me. Please. God, just fuck me.”
He laughed in angry pleasure. He’d do it when he was good and ready. She could wait the way she’d made him wait for her call today.
When he didn’t respond, her nails dug into his skin and then her teeth were at his neck, biting hard.
“Damn it,” he barked, startled at the pain. But more than that, he was shocked at how much it pissed him off. And how close he felt to coming as rage surged through his blood.
“Now,” she ordered. “Now.”
Cole sat up to tear off his shirt. “Take off your jeans,” he growled. Her triumphant smile turned his heart into thunder. He felt like a stallion that’d do violence to anything that tried to interfere with his goal. He unbuttoned his own jeans and pushed them down just far enough to draw out his cock.