Page 36 of Resist

Coulton cupped her cheek, his expression softening. “I’d like to be a good memory for you.”

“I want to be here,” she reassured him, turning her head slightly to press a kiss to his palm. “With you.”

Despite this being a risky decision on her part, she couldn’t help but feel like last night in Coulton’s amazing home had been similar to one of those vacations he’d talked about. He’d given her just what she needed. An escape from reality, from the horror of the night, from the hell that was her life.

He’d given her a bath, a healthy dinner, a soft bed, breakfast, and one whole night where she didn’t have to be on guard. Hell, he’dalreadygiven her a good memory.

“I feel safe here,” she added, feeling stupid the minute the admission crossed her lips.

Coulton nodded, the clouds in his eyes clearing. “Youaresafe here.” Stepping closer, he ran his finger gently along the bruise on her cheek. “Does it hurt?”

She shook her head. “No. Between last night’s bath and that ridiculously comfortable bed in your guest room, I’m feeling no pain. I can’t remember the last time I haven’t felt…” She paused.

What the hell was going on with her? Where had this Chatty Cathy come from? Ainsley always played her cards close to her chest. Always. But with Coulton, she’d lost her filter, her thoughts and feelings tumbling out of her.

“Haven’t felt what?” he prodded.

“Tired.”

She’d slept so well that even Mick’s shitty attitude hadn’t bothered her this morning. True to character, he’d taken one look at her face, asked how much the thief had gotten, then raged for a full twenty minutes about the stolen two hundred bucks. His insults and ire hadn’t touched her because she’d felt refreshed in a way she hadn’t experienced in years.

Regardless, she hadn’t looked forward to opening the tavern, because there wasn’t enough concealer in the world to completely cover the bruise on her cheek and her cut lip. Which meant she couldn’t escape rehashing the attack.

Luckily, it hadn’t been as bad as she’d anticipated. Maren, Petey, and the other regulars had expressed genuine concern for her well-being. She’d needed their bolstering words and swaggering vows to protect her in the future more than she realized. Like her, most of the patrons of Mick’s Tavern had lived in Cherry Hill long enough to know the score. She’d bet every single one of them had been victim to some sort of robbery or assault.

Initially, she hadn’t planned to go into much detail, intending to simply say it was a robbery and move on. However, the moment she mentioned it had been Coulton—she’d called him Thor to jazz up the tale—who’d scared the assholes away, she’d been inundated with questions. That was when she realized her childhood spent at Mick’s hadn’t beenallnegative. Turned out, she could embellish the hell out of her stories too.

Ainsley had even gone so far as to drop Coulton’s position on the Stingrays, since he’d assured her he didn’t care.

Thanks to her story, tonight had been her best night in years financially. Because word spread fast in Cherry Hill. Quite a few people had shown up, asking if the famous athlete would be there. Never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Ainsley said he’d mentioned dropping by. So, everyone stayed, drinking pitchers and pints and ordering Mick’s shitty microwaved apps. She’d more than made up for the lost two hundred dollars.

However, by the time the hockey game ended, Ainsley had convinced herself she would never see Coulton again, despite his assurances he was returning. There was no way he’d be in a hurry to return to Mick’s Tavern…no matter what he said. Guys said shit like that all the time, simply so they could make an easy getaway.

Then, he’d arrived. And invited her to come home with him.

It had been on the tip of her tongue to say no. That would have been the smarter answer, but no one had ever accused her of being too bright.

Apparently, her strengths lay in self-delusion. Because she’d convinced herself that this Ainsley was wiser and stronger, and her eyes were wide open. She promised herself she wouldn’t fall victim to whatever Coulton’s game was, since she wouldn’t stick around to play for long.

Feeling overly confident in her abilities to remain aloof, she decided to be selfish. To steal another night in Coulton’s condo. To treat herself to one night in his bed, because she didn’t doubt for a second that he would know his way around a woman’s body.

As long as she kept her expectations low—as in, nonexistent—in regard to Coulton, she would grab one night of incredible sex and use it to feed her masturbation fantasies for the next fifty years or so.

Firming her resolve, she studied his face. She could become addicted to the way he looked at her, the way he truly seemed to like what he saw.

That stupid resolve began to falter, so she turned around once more, trying to fortify her walls. “Some view,” she said lamely.

Coulton remained behind her, but he didn’t wrap her back in his embrace. Instead, his eyes met hers in their reflections in the window. “It is,” he agreed, looking at her rather than the water.

She tilted her head when he lowered his, his lips finding the side of her neck.

“I’ve wanted you since the first moment I saw you,” Coulton admitted.

If that was a line, she didn’t care. It was nice to hear, because God knew her attraction toward him had been instantaneous as well. She shivered as his tongue drew a path from her ear to her shoulder. Her nipples budded and her pussy clenched with need.

“Turn around,” he commanded.

Ainsley twisted in his arms without hesitation, lifting her hands to his broad shoulders.

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