Page 15 of Unbreakable Bonds (The Boston Romance #2)

COLE

The city lights paint shadows across my office as I loosen my tie, my mother's voice grating through the phone.

"Are you ignoring me, Cole?"

A frustrated sigh escapes me as I move to the floor-to-ceiling window. "No, Mother. I've been busy with business, and I'm calling to tell you I want to drop by tomorrow. We need to talk."

"Will you stay for dinner?" Hope colors her tone, making me drum my fingers against my thigh.

"No, Mom. Don't have time for that."

She launches into another lecture about my social obligations, but my attention shifts to the catchy music floating through the penthouse. What the hell? I glance at the clock. Dinnertime.

"Mom, I love you, but I need to go." I end the call before she can protest.

After organizing the documents spread across my desk, I follow the sound of laughter and music. I stop at the kitchen entrance, caught by the scene reflected in the full-length mirror: Alisha and Samantha dancing around the island, singing "I'm worth it, baby" at the top of their lungs.

My chest tightens at Samantha's genuine smile—warmer than the sun—and I know exactly who put it there. From day one, Alisha has given my daughter what she needed most: openness, kindness, and just enough silliness to break through her walls.

The sight triggers an old memory I usually keep buried.

Their joy is everything I didn't have growing up.

In our household, academic achievements were the only currency worth trading in.

My parents' praise came with conditions—perfect grades, perfect behavior, perfect everything.

I force the thoughts away, focusing instead on the present.

Samantha's phone rings, cutting through their impromptu performance. She checks the screen, her face lighting up. "My best friend, Rachel, from Los Angeles is calling. Do you mind?"

"Go talk with her." Alisha's smile is gentle. "The pancakes are ready and warm, so take your time."

As Samantha disconnects the speakers and leaves, Alisha pulls out her own phone. A moment later, "Talk With Your Body" fills the room. My pulse kicks up—this was the song she danced to that first night at Six-Pack. Like then, her red outfit and holy lips tease and torment.

I move to lean against the doorframe, watching as she starts to dance. The slight curl of her lips tells me she knows I'm here, but she doesn't acknowledge me. Instead, she moves with deliberate sensuality, drawing me into her web like a spider with particularly effective hips.

Christ. When this woman dances, her personality explodes like fireworks on a clear night. Her palms slide up her thighs, and my hands itch to follow their path. Her fingers tangle in that waterfall of golden hair, and my mouth goes dry.

She stops directly in front of me, placing one hand on my chest. Without thinking, I grab her hips and spin us, pressing her back against the doorpost. I brace one arm above her head while my other hand traces her thigh.

The music fades, leaving only our ragged breathing in the silence.

Her sweet scent—pear and jasmine and pure Alisha—makes my head spin.

"Your body sure talks when it dances." I lift my gaze to find her pupils blown wide as my fingers dig into her hip.

She slides her palms to my waist. "Do you like what my body is saying to you, Cole?"

I swallow hard, my mouth watering at the sight of those red lips. "Yes, I do, but that doesn't mean I will act upon it. We both know that—"

Her mouth claims mine before I can finish, hot and demanding and dangerous.

Not the hesitant kiss of someone testing waters—this is diving in headfirst. I should pull away, but her tongue slides against mine, and my body betrays my better judgment.

My fingers travel up her thigh as she moans into my mouth, the sound shooting straight to my groin.

With the last shred of self-control, I wrench myself back, putting distance between us. I lean against the kitchen island, dragging my hands over my face. Get it together, Walker.

"Damn. Why did you do that?"

"Because I needed to test my theory." Her voice holds a challenge.

"What?" I press my fingertips to my forehead, dread pooling in my gut.

She draws in a deep breath, and something in her stance shifts. "Ever since he attacked me, I freak out when men touch me."

Images of her bruised face flash through my mind, turning my hands to fists. The memory of her fear-glazed eyes makes my jaw clench.

"But you're the exception, Cole Walker." Heat floods my system at her words. "I don't know why, but my body and mind don't reject you. Not drunk, not sober." A brief grin flashes across her face. "That's why I need your help."

My heartbeat thunders in my ears. "With what?"

She closes the distance between us, her fingers playing with my shirt. "I want to have sex with you."

The words hit like a physical blow. My breathing stops as images of our bodies tangled together assault my brain.

"We have insane chemistry," she continues, "and by having sex with you, I hope I'll be able to open up to other men in the future."

Every muscle in my body turns to concrete. "No."

Her hands drop. "What?"

"No," I repeat, the word tasting like ash.

She crosses her arms, and I watch frustration morph into anger in those green eyes as we stare each other down.

"I'm putting myself on a goddamn platter, practically begging you for sex, and you say no?"

"Yes, because it's not worth taking the risk."

She cocks a brow. "What risk?"

"The prospect that you demand more afterward."

A disbelieving grunt escapes her. "Are you assuming you're Mr. Irresistible?

" Her laugh holds no humor. "Let me blast your pompous ass out of your dream bubble.

You're not. The sole thing I crave from you is your goddamn dick.

I'm not searching for a date, a boyfriend, or a partner.

And for the record, I don't fall in love with a man after a round of sex. "

"Then good luck finding somebody else to fuck, because it will not be me."

She rakes her fingers through her hair. "Didn't you listen? I need you. You're the only one, for some stupid reason, that my body doesn't reject."

I grind my teeth as she continues her plea, each word like a knife between my ribs.

"Cole, I'm not asking you to marry me. I'm begging you to fucking screw me."

My dick twitches traitorously, but I hold firm. I refuse to be this woman's sexual healing experiment.

"Not happening. End of conversation."

My heart plummets when instead of meeting her defiant glare, she lowers her head. Shit. "Alisha?" When she doesn't respond, I lift her chin, scowling internally at the storm of emotions crossing her face. "I—"

She presses her palm against my chest and scowls. "Don't." Fire blazes through her irises, incinerating the vulnerability she'd shown a moment ago. "I know enough, and I'm actually glad you said—"

"Uh, everything okay? Why are you two shouting?" Samantha appears in the doorway, rubbing her arms like she's cold.

Alisha moves to her, voice softening instantly. "I'm sorry, Samantha, but I have to go. Can you save a set of pancakes for me?"

Samantha nods, confusion clear on her face. "Oh, okay."

The two hug, and Alisha whispers something that makes my daughter snicker. After pressing a kiss to Samantha's cheek, she grabs her phone and leaves. The sound of her heels clicking against hardwood echoes through the penthouse until the front door closes with finality.

Fuck.

I drag my hands through my hair as emotions ricochet through my body like pinballs.

"Why is Alisha upset?" Samantha's voice carries an edge of accusation.

"Because she's unreasonable."

"What? I don't believe you." Her chin lifts in that stubborn way that mirrors my own. "Alisha is funny and sweet, Cole, and I want to be like her when I grow up."

I choke on air as images of my daughter asking men for sex flash through my mind like a horror show. "Oh, that will not happen."

"Why not? Do you think I'm ugly?"

The vulnerability in her voice stops my heart. When my response drags out too long, her eyes dampen and she bolts from the kitchen. I catch her in the living room, placing myself in her path. She tries to dodge around me, but I hold my ground.

"Samantha, wait. You're not ugly. What I meant is that trying to be someone you're not will make you unhappy. You're perfect the way you are."

Her lips quiver. "You mean that?"

"Yes."

"So, you think boys will want to date me?"

I freeze again, struggling to find the right words. Every fifteen-year-old boy is a walking hormone bomb, and the thought of them anywhere near my daughter makes my blood pressure spike. But of course, Samantha reads my hesitation her own way.

"See? You think guys won't be interested in me! Thanks, Cole." She slides past me, heading for the stairs. "I'll be in my room. I'm not hungry."

Christ, women are the most complex species in the goddamn universe.

Back in the kitchen, my eyes catch on the doorpost where Alisha and I shared that mind-bending kiss.

I'm not some fucking male escort. I remove my jacket, tossing it on the counter, and pace.

Time to focus on Samantha and fix things with her before even thinking about the other blonde.

With these two women, I need to measure every word twice—they're like emotional landmines waiting to explode.

At the hot plate warmer, I lift the foil.

The sweet smell of Jessica's cinnamon pancakes hits me, and words I've held back spill out.

"God, Jess, why didn't you tell me about our daughter?

I'd have loved to meet her before... She's beautiful.

You did an amazing job raising her, and I'll try not to mess her up too bad. "

I load a tray with two plates, syrup, and a stack of pancakes, then head for Samantha's room. Balancing the tray, I knock. "Samantha?"

The door opens an inch, and I'm faced with a younger, feminine version of my own skepticism. Like father, like daughter.

"Room service," I attempt humor. When she spots the tray, a ghost of a smile appears, making my heart leap. "Can I please come in?"

She steps back, and I enter. Clothes and stuff litter the floor, but I ignore the chaos. The TV's on, and her rumpled bed sheets tell me where she's been hiding. I set the tray on the covers and face my daughter, who watches me like I might sprout horns.

"I'm sorry if I made you think boys won't like you, because they will. You've got the Walker genes." I try for a grin. "They'll fight to date you. But I've been fifteen myself, Samantha, and guys of that age think..." I glance up when she giggles.

"Breathe, Cole. I know most fifteen-year-old boys think with their dicks. Mom already gave me the sex talk and a whole lecture about men and their hormonal behavior. So you're off the hook."

I scratch my neck, silently thanking Jessica. "Hungry?"

"Yeah..." She offers a shy smile. "Sorry for blowing up. You didn't deserve it. But..." She releases a heavy breath. "I talked to Rachel, and I miss her."

The longing in her voice squeezes my chest. When I brought her to Boston, I knew she was leaving her life behind, but I never considered how deeply it would affect her.

An idea forms. "I'm sorry, Samantha. I didn't know. But maybe I can suggest something?"

She nods.

"Ask Rachel if she wants to visit for a few days. She can stay here."

"What?" Her head snaps up, eyes wide as saucers. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah."

She launches herself at me, wrapping her arms around my waist. "Thank you, thank you, thank you, Cole!" The pure joy in her voice makes something in my chest expand. "Oh, I can't wait to tell her!"

My phone's wail shatters the moment. I step onto the terrace to answer.

"What's wrong?" I keep my voice low. "Couldn't it wait until tomorrow?"

"No, it can't." Brian's tone sets me on edge. "It's about Alisha."

My mind kicks into overdrive. "What? Has something happened?"

Brian chuckles, but there's tension underneath. "Oh, you could say that. She's here and stirring things up."

"What? She's at Six-Pack?" Heat floods my system. "What the hell is she doing there?"

"Well, she arrived in a taxi. Vince recognized her and let her in. When she asked for me, he called. I found her, and..." He pauses. "It was clear she'd been drinking. She hugged me and said I was exactly who she was looking for."

My pulse speeds up, blood rushing in my ears. "What do you mean?"

"She asked me to have sex with her."

The words hit like a physical blow. Images of Brian's hands on Alisha's skin flash through my mind, and something primitive and possessive roars to life in my chest. "I'll be there in thirty minutes."

I hang up before he can respond, already moving. The note I leave for Samantha is barely legible, my hands shaking with a mixture of rage and fear. Fear for Alisha, fear of what I might do if someone takes advantage of her vulnerable state.

The city lights blur past my window as I race toward Six-Pack. Each passing minute feeds the fire in my veins. She's drunk. Vulnerable. Asking men for sex. My hands tighten on the steering wheel until my knuckles turn white.

The gravel crunches under my shoes as I storm across the parking lot. Emotions—hot as lava—boil through my system. Vince catches my eye and straightens.

"Hey, Cole." His smile falters at whatever he sees in my face. "Brian's waiting by his office."

I barely register his words, already moving through the crowd. The bass pounds through my bones, but it can't drown out the roar of blood in my ears. Brian stands against the wall, that shit-eating grin on his face telling me he's enjoying this far too much.

I press my finger into his chest. "You better have turned her down."

"Easy there." He holds up his hands. "You know I'm not interested in stealing your woman."

"She's not..." The words die in my throat. Because isn't that exactly what's driving me crazy? That she's not mine, that she's out here offering herself to other men? "She's a goddamn stubborn mule who's giving me a headache."

Brian's smile widens. "Thank God she asked me and not some stranger. She gave it her all."

My heart kicks into overdrive, jealousy and possession clawing at my chest. "Where is she?"

"In my office. I told her I had something important to take care of first."

I stride toward the door, every muscle in my body coiled tight.

"Good luck taming her," Brian calls after me, but I barely hear him over the thunder of my own heartbeat.