Home > Two is a Lie (Tangled Lies #2)(12)

Two is a Lie (Tangled Lies #2)(12)
Author: Pam Godwin

“Is it him?” he asks. “Is he where you want to be?”

“You’re both there.”

He sucks in a breath. “That can’t—”

“I know it can’t happen. That’s not what I want!” My outburst reverberates through the kitchen, and I lower my voice. “I don’t know how to do this.”

He reaches a hand toward mine, his fingers twitching, stretching, before making contact. “The half-naked girl I met on the street that morning, the one who straddled me on my bike and stole my heart… She didn’t know what she was doing, either. But she was beautifully bold and shameless. She did whatever the fuck she wanted, with mischief in her eyes and laughter on her lips.”

The sob in my throat hiccups into a coughing, helpless grin. “I wasn’t half-naked.”

“Your perfect round ass hung out of a pitiful scrap of cotton.”

“They were cheeky boyshorts.”

“They were torture. I had to go to work hard as a rock.” He twines his fingers around mine. “I would’ve married you that day. I should’ve married you. I’m a fucking idiot.”

My pulse kicks up, filling my chest with fuzzy warmth.

“Go back to that morning with me.” He puts his face in mine, his gaze fierce. “We’ll start over. Let me prove how much I love you. I can convince you—”

“You didn’t have to convince me of anything the day we met, and you shouldn’t have to do it now. That’s not how love works, and that’s never been how you and I work.”

He gives me the look. The one I know so well. It says he’ll do anything to win me back. Lying, stealing, maiming, killing—there’s no limit to the depths he’ll go. Knowing what I know now about his occupation, the thought makes my stomach cramp.

“If you hurt Trace, it’s the same as hurting me.” I untangle my hand from his and rub antibiotic ointment on the gash across his nose. “You understand that, right?”

“Yes.” He regards me so intently it takes all my energy to keep from squirming. “It’s the damnedest thing…” His head cocks. “When I look at you, I see what other men see. A stunning knockout with lips that summon filthy thoughts and eyes that turn the biggest badass into a bumbling fool. But there’s so much more. Your compassion and vulnerability, your ability to love so deeply, with your entire existence. You’re the whole package, and anyone who meets you knows this.”

A flush rises through my cheeks. “Cole—”

“It’s a miracle I’m not fighting off dozens of men. At the moment, I only have one contender.” He rubs his sternum, his timbre losing strength. “The problem is, you love him, and that’s pretty damn hard to compete with. But lucky for me, I still have part of your heart.” His eyebrows gather. “Right?”

“You already know the answer to that.”

“Good.” He blows out a breath. “That’s good, because I’m yours. All of me. Forever. I’m not going away, Danni. Not when things are hard. Not when this”—he gestures between us—“seems impossible. Through the good and the bad and all the madness in between, I’ll be wherever you are, fighting and laughing and appreciating every goddamn second you give me.”

A twinge of yearning quivers in the heart of my chest. His voice…that gravelly, passionate sound of his timbre is one of the things I missed the most. More than that, I missed his words, the rawness in every sentence he strings together.

He makes me a believer.

They say a girl’s first love isn’t the first person she kisses or the one she gives her virginity to. Her first love is the guy she’ll compare all others against. He’s the one she never forgets, even when she convinces herself she’s over him and moved on.

As Cole rests a hand on mine and leans so close I smell the recognizable scent of his skin, I know with certainty I never got over him.

The heat radiating from him, the dark depths of his gaze drilling into mine, his very presence speaks to my soul, enchanting and ravishing and slaying. It’s the sweetest torment, drugging me into a Cole-induced stupor.

If he kisses me, I won’t be able to stop him. I haven’t tasted his intoxicating lips in four and a half years, and I’m helpless against the magnetic pull he has over me.

I still haven’t come to terms with the fact that he’s here. Sitting on the floor in my kitchen. Alive and real and a kiss away from spiraling me into total bliss.

“Danni.” He stares at my mouth, and his tongue slips out to wet his own. “I need you so fucking much I can’t see straight.”

I whimper, angling closer, until all that separates us is a finger-width of air and a head full of uncertainty. My uncertainty. Given the way he’s looking at me, the only thing he’s worried about is his ability to strip off my clothes before I change my mind.

His fingers glide around my neck and twist through the hair at the base of my skull, his breaths growing shallow, heated. He edges closer, oh-so slowly, deleting the minuscule distance between our lips.

I close my eyes. Part my mouth. Tense against a riot of nerves. And jump at the burst of noise on the kitchen counter.

Try by Pink blares from my phone, sounding an incoming call.

“Ignore it.” Cole clenches his hand in my hair.

But I’m already pulling back, shaking out of my trance and scrambling for the distraction.

I was going to kiss him. With Trace within hearing range. What the hell is wrong with me?

Grabbing the phone, I groan at the caller ID.

“My sister.” I hit ignore and peek at Cole.

He drops his head and clutches the back of his neck as frustration ripples through his bent posture.

“I haven’t talked to her since you returned.” I crouch beside him. “I need to tell her what’s going on.”

He slides his hands to his face, scrubbing his forehead as if struggling to dial back his temper.

That’s where he and Trace differ the most. Trace is the master of self-restraint. Hell, he spent nearly every day with me for four months burying his feelings for me.

Cole would never do that. I don’t think he can. He has zero control over his emotions. When he wants me, he takes me, and the claiming is a powder keg of hunger and ferocity. At least, that’s how it used to be.

Nothing is different between us, the chemistry and passion just as wild and uncontainable as the day we met. Yet everything has changed. When he died, part of me died with him, leaving behind a ghost of the woman he fell in love with. I can’t connect with him when it comes to his career, and he’ll never be part of my relationship with Trace. We didn’t have those separations before, and in some ways, it makes us strangers.

That doesn’t mean he isn’t the one for me, but it’s a scary revelation. I might have gotten him back, but that doesn’t mean our relationship is recoverable.

“You better call Bree,” he says, “before she shows up and pisses herself when she sees me.”

“You need to walk me through the cover story.”

Ten minutes later, I’m alone in my bedroom, listening to Bree’s heavy gasps through the phone.

“Holy shit cakes, Danni.” She makes a strangled noise. “All that time in an Iraqi prison? Is he okay? Mentally, I mean. Surely, they’re providing therapy for him.”

“He’s doing okay.” I hate lying to her. It goes against every instinct I have. But I don’t know the truth, and that’s probably a good thing, because I’d be tempted to confide in her.

In the next room, the shower turns on, the pipes groaning through the walls. That means Cole’s in there. Removing his pants. Revealing inch after inch of his mouth-watering physique.

Does he still go commando? I haven’t seen him without jeans on since he returned. Is there a black snake still tattooed around his thigh or did he have that one removed, too? What does he look like now without clothes on? Thinner? Harder? Any new scars?

I have so many photos of him, pictures I stared at for days on end after he left. But none are of him naked. He doesn’t have a body one could easily forget—broad chest, narrow cut of hips, and a well-endowed package between powerful legs. Nevertheless, I ache to see him in the buff again.

   
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