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I yanked him into a hug afraid he was going to kiss me. Too intimate. But I was so fucked up that I moved my hand to my mouth to lick his orgasm. It was a mistake. He tasted incredible. It would be my punishment. Tasting something I couldn’t have.
Washing us quickly, I finished and wrapped Shane in a bath towel. I brought another into the bedroom to dry his hair. I’d read that once the endorphins wear off, a submissive can crash. He began shaking when I tried to redress him.
“I think you need skin-to-skin contact to warm up.” I threw the covers back and climbed in the bed behind him. “I’ll warm you up until you fall asleep.”
“You have a dragon tattoo, too.” Shane’s voice was slow and sleepy. I nodded and pulled him close. “Your dragon is a fierce warrior, and mine is more like an intellectual guardian. Fitting.”
He tried to turn toward me, but I was exhausted and held him in place. “Sleep.”
“I like the wolf on your shoulder too,” Shane said.
Relaxing and nuzzling in, he fit perfectly with his head tucked under my chin, our legs tangled, and my arms around him. It was as if we’d been doing this forever, and we clicked into place. He’d be gone soon, and the guilt would come. But right now, I didn’t want to deny myself. Tonight had been more than I ever thought I’d have.
It would need to last me a lifetime.
Chapter ten
Shane
WakingupsurroundedbyCole was heaven. I vaguely remembered thinking he might regret waking up with me and tried to extricate myself from his embrace last night. Our bodies had other ideas. Both his arms were wrapped around me, and he’d slung his leg over my thighs. His rhythmic breath on my neck sent shivers down my spine. I closed my eyes and gave myself over to this fleeting, glorious moment.
Last night, I kept waiting for his guilt to overwhelm him. I’d been afraid of the crash and his subsequent anger. I held no illusions that last night changed anything between us, but it gave me hope for him. He deserved to be happy and loved.
Cole was alive but not living; I understood that.
Carefully disentangling our limbs, I eased out of bed. My stained pants and boxer briefs were on the ottoman at the end of the bed. Instead of trying to explain the stain to Sara when she picked me up, I grabbed the shorts and T-shirt Cole had given me last night.
The covers pooled under Cole’s arm, giving me a view of the head of his dragon tattoo, which started on his back. The dragon’s neck reached over his shoulder so the head rested above his heart. It had large teeth, flaring nostrils, and prism eyes of yellow, green, red, and purple. I backed out of the room before I touched him.
The apartment had a completely different look in the bright sunlight. The floor-to-ceiling windows created the illusion of the apartment being part of the skyline. My eye was drawn to a huge painting on the far wall. The vibrant slashed blues and greens mixed with red and orange painted on metal reminded me of an abstract sunset over water. My hand involuntarily reached to touch the paint. As soon as I did, I knew he’d painted it. At first glance, the strokes were random. But each brush stroke had been expertly placed to create beauty in chaos.
Turning back around, I surveyed the apartment. I wasn’t sure if I should try to find Cole’s phone to call Sara or wait for him to wake up. I decided to do a quick sweep of the apartment, and if I found it, I would call. If not, then I’d wait for him.
The apartment was much bigger than I originally thought. There was another bathroom and bedroom off the kitchen. Larger than a married couple needed. The decor was also less masculine than I expected. Soft fabric, muted colors, and rounded corners.
Fuck. This apartment was set up for a family.
I stood in the doorway of the primary bedroom to see if Cole’s phone was in plain sight. The bed was perfectly made without a crease. Cole never got in his bed last night. Never even sat on the edge.
Wandering into the kitchen, I opened a paper bag from the delivery last night. Three bagels. An odd number since Cole had repeatedly said he didn’t live here. The fridge had a container of six eggs, four sausage patties, and orange juice.
The least I could do was make breakfast. Soon, I would have to deal with all the feelings from a one-night stand with a guy I was obsessed with, but for now, I’d make breakfast. All the anxiety and longing and shitstorm could wait.
Although the kitchen had silverware, dishes, and glasses, there weren’t any pots or pans. I finally located a brand-new, high-end nonstick griddle in an empty pantry cupboard. Perfect for making breakfast sandwiches. I removed the packaging and got to work.
Cole stumbled out of the bedroom wearing boxers and nothing else. His tattoos were on full display, and I tried to catalog them all. The designs had been crafted to incorporate each muscle, curve, and dip of his body. I wanted to touch and lick all of them.
I was so enamored by his body that I missed the expression on his face. Last night, he’d said this wasn’t over until it was time for me to go. It was obviously time for me to leave. The sausage patties were cooked and sat on a plate, but the eggs were still cooking, so I turned the griddle off. I doubted either of us would be eating.
“What are you doing?” Cole snapped.
There was no use in engaging with Cole’s anger. The regret and guilt I’d so thoroughly prepared for had snuck up on me. I blamed the spanking and mind-blowing orgasms he’d delivered last night.
“You can’t use that pan!” Cole shouted. “You can’t...”
Cole watched me walk around the island. Thankfully, my shoes were by the door. At this point, I’d leave barefoot. Cole could have his anger. I’d leave with my dignity if nothing else. I knew what I was getting into, and I chose it anyway.
I’d been a target for misplaced anger and grief for a large part of my childhood. I would not put myself in a situation to endure that again. Knowing his anger wasn’t personal didn’t help. It still felt terrible and very, very personal.