Page 25 of Citadel

“No.” He’s wearing plaid pajama pants that were obviously given to him here and no shirt. He looks big and muscular and solid and strong. Sexy.

A clench of interest curls below my belly. I’ve felt stirrings of arousal before—usually prompted by daydreams rather than reality—but I’ve never felt anything like this before.

My lips part. He’s staring at me. Waiting for me to say something.

And I have absolutely nothing worthwhile to say.

“You… you think this is a good place for us to stay, don’t you?” I ask at last.

He nods, his eyes scanning my face in that intent way he has. Unnerving. “Yes. I don’t see any signs that these people are anything but what they seem to be. I think you can trust them as much as anyone. And they’ve got a good setup. You and Breanna should be safe here.”

“Okay. That’s what we think too.” I clear my throat. “Thanks for getting us here. What… what will you do?”

His eyes narrow slightly.

“I mean, I was wondering…” I look down to the floor, suddenly horribly embarrassed. What am I trying to do? Ask Cole to stay here? For what? Forme?

“Del,” he murmurs in a husky tone.

I gulp. “What?”

“What are you doing here?”

“I… I couldn’t sleep.”

“I understand that, but you shouldn’t be here.” He suddenly seems bigger than he was a minute ago. Tenser. When I dart a glance up, his eyes are running up and down over my body.

There’s a new look in his eyes. One I’m sure I haven’t seen there before. His eyes are steel gray in the dim light. And hot.

Hot.

I glance down at myself and try to see what he might see. Slender bare arms and legs. The outline of smallish, firm breasts beneath the thin fabric of my gown, the nipples having tightened visibly. I’m so used to my body being covered by oversized clothes that I barely recognize myself.

I’ll never be as beautiful as Breanna, but tonight I look slim and delicate and feminine.

Maybe even sexy.

My face isn’t hidden by the cap I usually wear. Maybe my face looks good too.

Cole is staring at it now. “Del.”

“What?”

“What do you want?”

I open my mouth and close it again. Glance down at the floor and then peek up at him, uncharacteristically shy. “I… I don’t even know.”

“Then go back to your room. We’ll talk in the morning.”

Part of me wants to push it. Wants to make him acknowledge that spark that’s ignited between us. The one that’s pulsing in my head and between my legs.

But maybe that spark is only on my side. He’s never given even a hint that he sees me that way.

I have no real experience with men that I can use to figure out whether this feeling is mutual.

I’m not Breanna, who can read men like an open book.

I’m just me, mostly good at hiding in the shadows.

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