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“Is that what you think of me?” I demand. “That I’m a criminal taking down good police officers who got in my way?”
“No. God, no. And damn it,” she presses her hand to her face a moment, “I’ve had too much tequila to make my case, and it sucks.” Her hands settle on my chest. “You really matter to me, Cole. So much, so fast that it’s terrifying.”
“I see that.”
“You see that?” she demands. “What do you see? Don’t answer. I told you I was going to screw this up. My father seemed perfect, but he wasn’t. He gambled. He took risks. I can’t let you be perfect in my mind, even though I know you deserve to start there and earn any negative. I’m trying to fix that. I know how I have to fix that and—I need you. I wouldn’t probably say that without the tequila, but it doesn’t make it less true. I don’t want you to mistake that for me needing your money, though. It’s not your money. It’s you. It’s—I swore I wouldn’t, but I do and I’m rambling and I can’t seem to stop. Can you please say something now?”
I cup her face “I’ve been waiting to hear you say that.”
“Which part? The ‘I’m sorry’ or the—”
“You need me. Say it again.”
“I do,” she whispers. “And you’re even more of an asshole because you made that happen. I said I wouldn’t let you. I vowed—”
“Say the words,” I order roughly.
“I need you. I do. I need you and—”
My mouth closes down on hers, and my God, I have never wanted a kiss, or a woman, like I do this one. I tangle my fingers into her hair, I breathe her in, I inhale that scent of flowers, and it all comes together in a hot mix of adrenaline and lust. I cup her backside and lift her. And hell yeah, her legs wrap around my waist. I start walking but I don’t stop kissing her, maneuvering us out of the bathroom and down the hall until we’re in the bedroom. I tear my mouth from hers and kick the door shut, halfway to the bed when reality hits again.
No fucking condom.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
I walk a path of moonlight streaming through the curtains, and lay Lori on the bed, but I don’t dare go down on top of her. I catch my weight on my hands and I intend to stay that way, to stand up before I forget our limitation, but she whispers, “Kiss me again already,” and who the fuck am I to deny her the kiss that I want as much as she does?
My mouth closes down on hers, and some part of me decides that I’m getting her on the pill. I’m taking her to a damn doctor. I need to be able to fuck her when I want to fuck her. Hell, I need so many damn things with this woman. And when her hands slip under my shirt, her soft palms touching my skin, I damn sure need more of her hands on my body to the point that it requires a herculean effort to pull back and press my forehead to hers. “We don’t have a condom. We have to—”
“It’s okay,” she whispers. “I’m on the pill. It’s been a few weeks or maybe longer. A month.”
Those words hit me like a wrecking ball. I press my hands to the bed and raise up to look at her. “You’re on the pill.” It comes out as pure accusation, but she doesn’t seem to notice.
“Yes,” she says. “I am. We’re safe.”
“For who? Because we damn sure know it wasn’t me.”
Her eyes turn from lust to anger in three seconds flat. “Get off me.”
“Was it Lance?”
“Get off me or I swear I will yell until they come and get you off of me.”
“Go ahead. Yell. Tell me. Because I damn sure want to know who had you, when I couldn’t fuck anyone else no matter who offered themselves up to me. Not a fucking one, Lori.”
“There was no one and you’re not just an asshole. You’re a bastard.” Her eyes start to tear up. “Get off.” The way she whispers it this time, the way her voice quakes, does the job. What the hell am I doing holding her down? What the hell is this woman doing to me?
I push off the bed and she scrambles to her feet and turns on me. “You,” she says. “I did it for you.”
“We hadn’t found each other again back then.”
“Yeah well, after that night, a month passed, and I didn’t start my period.”
Bullshit, I think. “We used a condom,” I say.
