And, of course, I was stalling.
I took one step toward him, then another, then another after that until I was standing just a few feet away, my hand on the table for balance.
I started to say his name, but then he lifted his head. I couldn't see his face because of the cap, but after a moment, it was clear that he was slowly letting his gaze travel up the length of my body, and when he reached my face, he pulled the cap off and tossed it onto the chair beside him.
"Kat," he said, and though there was sadness in his voice, I thought that I heard hope, too.
"Hey," I said. "Fancy meeting you here."
His mouth quirked up into a quick, tight smile. "I heard the door, then your footsteps. I thought, dear god, that can't be her, because that would be a miracle, and I don't believe in miracles."
He reached out a hand for me, and I took it, letting him tug me closer. His knees brushed my legs, and that connection--that spark of light and arousal that I always felt when I was with him--burst through me, making me feel warm and happy. Making me feel like I'd come home.
"I believe in miracles," I said. "I believe in you, too. Cole, you shouldn't have gone."
"You're right," he said, and I felt as though wings had burst free on my heart. "I shouldn't have left like that. But, Kat," he added gently, "I was right to leave."
The words hit me with the force of a slap, and I knew that I had let myself believe too quickly. That I'd let hope settle inside me, and it had gotten the better of me. Like Icarus, I'd allowed those damn wings to draw me higher and higher--and all I got for my reward was to come crashing back down to earth.
"You son of a bitch," I said, my voice as tight as wire because right then it was me who was having to work to control my temper. "I never took you for a coward or a fool, but you're both. I can't fucking believe it, but you're both."
"Dammit, Kat, don't do this."
"Don't do what? Don't fall in love with you?" The minute the words were out of my mouth I wished I could suck them back in. "Dammit," I said, then pushed away from him, needing space to think and to move.
I stalked to the couch at the back of the cabin and fell upon it, then bent over, my head in my hands. Goddamn him. Goddamn him to hell.
I felt the pressure of his hand on my shoulder, but I didn't look up. I knew I couldn't. Not yet. Not without crying. I'd shown too much of my heart, and I really wasn't in the mood to have it trampled.
The cushion shifted as he sat next to me, then took my hand, twining his fingers through mine. "You're missing your closing."
"Yeah," I said. "I know."
"Baby . . ."
I sighed. "I talked to Cyndee. The sellers will do their thing, and then I'll do mine and eventually I'll get the house."
"That's not the point," he said gently. "It's the ritual. The being there. In that tiny room scrawling your name on all that official-looking paperwork. Besides, don't you have movers coming on Saturday?"
I turned my head so that I could look at him. "Some things are more important."
He held my gaze for a moment, then ran his hands over his head. He stood up, paced to the end of the cabin, then turned around and came back again. I knew he was looking at me--I could feel the weight of his gaze--but I was focused on his hands. On the fists he made and released. On the battle he was waging.
Finally, he stopped in front of me. "I sat in that room at The Drake and listened to your father praise me for taking care of you. And what a goddamn load of bullshit that was."
"Cole--"
"No. I practically forced you in that ladies' room. Pinched you. Hurt you. And then at your house I almost ripped your hair out, and then I fucking made you cry. I was so wrapped up in what I wanted, what I needed--in my own fucking need to just shoot my goddamn load--that I didn't even realize I was hurting you. Choking you. Jesus, Kat, do you know how much it killed me to see you like that? Sprawled on the floor, tears streaming down your face? Do you have any idea how much I hated myself?"
Now I really was crying, and I brushed the tears away and then stood in front of him. I pressed my hands to the sides of his face, then brushed the softest of kisses over his lips. "For a man who is so smart--who has made so much of himself--you're a damn idiot, Cole August."
"Catalina . . ."
I pressed my finger to his lips. "My turn," I said, then brushed away a fresh spill of tears. "Forced me in the ladies' room? Are you kidding me? I was so hot I'm almost embarrassed to admit it. That was an incredible moment, Cole, don't you get that? Naughty and sensual, and just public enough to be a bad girl turn-on. I mean, come on. It was like acting out a fantasy, and it was amazing."
He started to speak, but I just shook my head. "No. Not finished. Did you mention pinching me? Did you say that it hurt? Well, guess what, mister, I have a secret to tell you."
I pressed a hand to his shoulder for balance as I leaned in close to his ear. I felt a tremor go through him, and a corresponding wash of heat shot through me, brought on by nothing more than a simple touch and our proximity.
"It did hurt," I said, as his body tensed beneath my hand. "It hurt, and then it felt amazing, and dammit, Cole, it made me so fucking wet. You hurt me? Maybe you did, but I loved it. Hurts so good, right? Isn't that what they say? That's how you made me feel."
"Kat. Oh, baby."
I eased back so that I could face him again. "You keep interrupting me. Stop that." I pointed to the couch. "Sit. Before we hit an air pocket or get lectured by Jana for not wearing our seat belts."
He sat, and to my relief I saw that some of the pain on his face had been replaced by humor.
I perched on the table in front of him, my eyes trained on his face.
"Made me cry, you said? If I remember right, I was having one hell of a good time getting you off. I liked it, Cole. I was into it. I was into you."
I knelt in front of him then gently pushed his knees apart so that I could ease in closer. Very deliberately, I moved my gaze from his crotch to his eyes, and as I did, I reached out and pressed my hand over his cock, then felt it stir beneath my palm.
"I wanted to taste you, to suck you off, to take you in as deep as I could because it turns me on to know that I'm giving you pleasure." I stroked him as his erection hardened under my touch and with my words. "But guess what? There's this whole physiology thing working there, too, and let's see you try to deep-throat a cock as impressive as yours and not have tears prick your eyes."
A flicker of a grin touched his mouth. "I'd rather not."
"Yeah, well, you owe me. I was damn close to taking you all the way, and you bolted on me, you bastard. And as for yanking my hair," I continued before he could interrupt, "yeah, that hurt. You yanked, I wasn't expecting it, and it hurt."
I saw him flinch as if I'd slapped him.
"BFD, Cole. Big. Fucking. Deal. So you accidentally yanked my hair. One of these days you'll probably roll over in bed and whack me with your elbow and I'll have a black eye for a week. It's not like you lost your temper and beat me to a pulp."
"What if I had?"
"You didn't, and you wouldn't. You're not capable of that. Of losing it, sure. But you couldn't hurt me if you tried."
"Kat, you don't understand."
"The hell I don't. What have I just been telling you? There was no reason to go, but you did. Hell, you ran. And that was what hurt me, Cole. Not the rest of it."
He looked away, and I bit back a curse.
"God, you're thickheaded. You say I don't understand, but you're wrong. Don't you get it? You've showed me a new side of myself, and I love it. I'm not scared of what you'll show me about yourself." I reached for his hand. "The truth is, I understand more than you think."
"Bullshit."
"You need pain," I said softly. "You need to inflict it. Turns out I rather like it. Seems to me like we fit together nicely. A perfect set. Like salt and pepper. It's what I should have told you last night in the house, but I didn't know how to say it. I want it, Cole. When I said
I wanted you to get everything you need from me, that's what I meant. And I'm not scared that you'll go too far. Because you can't. You won't."
His eyes flicked to mine, but he said nothing. Please, I thought. Please let me be getting through that damn thick skull.
"You think you don't have control, but I'm telling you that you do. Everyone loses it occasionally. Hell, you've got an edge up because you've worked at it for so long."
He scrubbed his hands over his face, then dragged them back over his scalp. Then he just looked at me while I sat there, my stomach twisting in anticipation of his answer. "How do you do it?" he finally asked.
"What?"
"Make me believe that maybe I'm not as fucked up as I think I am."
I lifted a shoulder. "So what if you are? At least we won't be bored."
He almost laughed, and I felt a swell of relief that maybe--just maybe--the storm had passed.
"Seriously, Cole. Who isn't fucked up? I think we all are. I sure as hell am. Maybe the trick is to make your fucked-up-edness work for you. For us."
He said nothing.
"Cole. Please." I closed my eyes and took a breath, debating what I wanted to say, knowing I was showing more of my heart than was smart or careful. But maybe around Cole I didn't have to be either. Maybe I just had to let him know how I felt.
"I need you," I said simply. "I thought at first that I just wanted you. That you were an itch I had to scratch so that I could get you out of my system. But it's more than that, and I can't stand the thought of losing you. I honestly don't know if I could survive it." I drew in a breath. "And right now, I really need you to say something."
I sat frozen, praying he would do just that, but also terrified of the words he might say. After a moment, he stood up, then crossed to the far side of the cabin. He stood with his hand on one of the armchairs, his back toward me, his head turned in a way that made me think he was looking out the window at the world spread wide beneath us.
"I've always been able to get by," he began, his voice low but firm. "Slide in with the gangs. Mingle with students, with professionals, with artists, with anyone. I was able to easily pick up the way men with money talk and walk and act and behave. I blend, and it's easy, and I make it look good."
He turned then to face me. "But at the core, I'm just one more motherfucking gangbanger."
"Bullshit," I said, the response immediate and firm.