His assurance did just what it was supposed to. Assured me. And yet, my nerves began to fray at the edges. He saw one side of a coin. I saw the other. She was evil to him, but good to me. He wanted me to forget her. I wanted a relationship with her—wanted whatever I could get.
Would he be able to come to grips with that? “I’m tired of letting Anima run things,” I said, switching tracks. “They make a move, and we struggle to recover. That’s old. So, in the morning, I’m searching for Justin. I promised Jaclyn.”
“While I like your enthusiasm,” he said, “you don’t really have a place to start your search.”
“Yes, I do. We know Justin was driven out of that warehouse. Well, there’s an apartment building across the street from it. Maybe someone was watching from a window. I’ll go door-to-door, if necessary, and ask. I’ll also call Ethan. He used to work for Anima and knows how they operate.”
“He might still be working for them.”
“There’s really only one way to find out.”
Silence. A sigh. “Okay,” Cole said. “I’ll help.
Those words took me full circle, right back to the beginning of our conversation—to the crux of my fears. “If I talk to Helen, learn what she knows, will you think I am working with Anima?”
Peering at me, voice firm, he said, “Okay, that’s it. Spanking time.” He sat beside me and tugged me over his lap.
I yelped when he flattened his big hand against my bottom, but rather than smack, he rubbed.
“Do I have your attention?” he asked. “Good. I want you to listen to me, and listen closely. Have I been fooled by Anima before? Yes. But I learned from my mistakes, and I don’t make the same one twice. Give me a little credit. And give yourself a little credit, too. You care about your friends. You are kind and honest and as close to perfect as humanly possible. You hate Anima as much as we do. You would never help them, not even for her.” He spat that last word. “When the shock of her connection to you wears off, you’ll realize she’s a monster with an angel’s face. That’s all.”
That’s what he wanted. Maybe what he needed.
But I wasn’t sure it would happen, and that scared me.
Stupid fear!
He helped me straighten.
“You keep promising me a spanking and not delivering,” I said.
“It’s your eyes. They can talk me out of anything.”
“What is it, exactly, that they say?”
“Usually ‘you’re so amazing, Cole.’ And ‘I want to be your slave, Cole.’”
Ha!
“Now how about that date?” he asked.
“Please.”
We ate. We talked and laughed and even watched a movie. We were lost in our own little world. But the intimate time together made me...itchy. I wanted more.
Wanted him. Finally.
Guess my eyes would have to talk him out of his clothes.
I straddled his lap, wrapping my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist. “I’m so used to seeing you without a shirt. If you feel uncomfortable wearing one, just go ahead and take it off. I mean, I’m only thinking of you.”
Snorting, he stood with me wound around him like a boa constrictor and walked to the bathroom. After placing me on the marble countertop, he removed his shirt—cheer, clap—and hunted down a washrag. After turning on the faucet, he wet the rag and gently cleaned my face.
Oh, crap! “I must look hideous,” I mumbled. No wonder he’d stopped me before I’d even gotten started. “My earlier blubbering has ruined our date.”
“Hey. Your blubbering was a highlight for me.”
A small laugh escaped me. “Has anyone ever called you sweet? No? Good.”
“You’ve told me I taste sweet.” He tossed the washrag to the floor. “You ready for phase two of the evening?”
“Depends on what, exactly, phase two is.”
“The kiss at the door. Or, in our case, the shower door.” His heavy-lidded gaze swept over me. “I wasn’t going to go this far, not tonight, but you’re dirty. Like, really, really dirty. Filthy, even. I’ve got to do my gentlemanly duty and clean the rest of you up.”
My heart skittered into a frenzied beat. “Underclothes on or off?”
“Ladies’ choice.”
Sucked for him, because he wasn’t going to like my answer. Or rather, he was going to like it way too much. “Off.”
He moaned as he fussed with the knobs inside the shower. “You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?”
“Kill your resistance, yes. You’ll thank me later.”
“I’m sure.”
Water rained, and steam thickened the air. He stripped out of his boots, jeans and weapons. Lots and lots of weapons. Daggers. Throwing stars. More daggers. A gun. Another gun. Ammo. The famous minicrossbow. More daggers. Metal clanged against metal, his every movement fascinating me.
“Your turn,” he said, his voice a mix of need and command.
I toyed with the ends of my hair. “Can I ask you a question first?”
“You just did. Strip.”
Funny man. I eased to my feet. “Would you have waited one year and three months for your other girlfriends?”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “Either way I answer that, I’m going to sound like a douche-purse.”