Page 51 of Truth Be Told

Deep down, I’m not so sure at all. But I have my hopes.

STELLA

A knock on the door echoes through the apartment, reaching my ears in the shower. I hurriedly finish dabbing my hair dry with a towel, and pull on the barest essentials of clothing. That’s Cohen, I’m sure, but he’s earlier that I expected and should know better than to knock.

A smile is plastered across my face when I swing open the door.

It’s not Cohen.

But it is a man. I don’t recognize him at first. Then it dawns on me.What are you doing here?I want to say. But I can’t, because it’s back. The same close-throated silence.

His lifts his familiar eyes from under a baseball cap, the brim of which is concealed beneath a hood. When they meet mine, his steely expression ignites adrenaline in my soul.

Every muscle in my body tenses at once. I again want to reach for my familiar blade, only to realize that, once more, I am without it. Lorelei. That’s right. I can’t believe I made such an amateur mistake, again. How did he find me, though? He must have somehow tracked me down through my name at Sapphire. He tries to come in, but halts when he realizes I’m not going to move. He backs up, then glares once more.

Then, in an instant, the man sweeps off the hood. He shrugs his shoulders from the cold, as though to shake off some snow that isn’t there, then meets my eyes. “Stella?” Cohen says, oblivious to what just happened before my eyes. “What is it? Can I come in?”

I crack a smile once I return to reality.

“Of course,” I say, shaking my head, but I don’t step aside. He remains where he is, examining my face, reading me. I grab him by the collar, pulling him through the door. When I have him, I wrap my arms around the back of his neck and draw him close. My lips can’t meet his fast enough, and they can’t press against him hard enough. The same is true for him, but he takes it a step further to his hands, which immediately find their way under my shirt and beneath my bra.

We don’t need words anymore. Letting go is exactly what I need; and I know it’s exactly what he needs, too. He tells me this by the way he moves over my skin, the way he so quickly changed out of his closed-lipped persona into one of mad passion.

I tilt my neck toward his mouth. He accepts the invitation, devouring me with the warm touch of his mouth. I cripple under him, the strength of his hand digging into my lower back the only thing keeping me afloat. My fingers make their way to the button of his jeans, and when they land there, he takes over for me. In a flurry, he undoes his pants, before I help him the rest of the way. I press my shoulders against the wall, connecting my hips with his.

When he’s freed me from the majority of my clothes, I drape my leg around him. He slides his fingers between the fabric of my panties and my skin, and slips them down in one swift motion. They remain around my legs when he enters me, carefully but with a sense of desperation. I grip the back of his neck, his hair embedding under my nails.

His thrusts send my back against the wall. I don’t have to worry about anything. Not even standing on my own two feet, as Cohen supports me with his powerful grip.

He exhales into my shoulder when he releases, his hot breath amplifying my own trembles and contractions.

He briefly shifts his weight, his breath heavy and uneven, and still hitting against my skin. We look at each other and exhaustedly smile. He kisses my neck before pulling away.

I would never intentionally hurt him – that’s true. And I never will hurt him, because he’s been hurt enough for fifty fucking lifetimes.

The truth is that Cohen was forever changed by what happened that night in the water. We’ve both known that all along, and I accept it – more than that, I want it. Because I know that with all of that also comes the best of him.