Page 28 of Don't Leave
“What happened to you? Where did you disappear to?” He barely sucks in a breath before rapid firing another question at me. “Do you have any idea how worried I was when I couldn’t find you?” The relief of moments ago gives way to anger. It brims in his whiskey-colored eyes.
“I looked everywhere. And Brooklyn didn’t know what happened to you either.”
He holds me at arm’s length as his gaze slides down the length of me as if checking to make sure I’m still in one piece before backing me up into the room and slamming the door behind him. Only then does he pull me back into his embrace. I can’t help but sink into his warmth.
“Cassidy?” This time, when he murmurs my name, it’s quietly. The sharpest part of his anger already receding. “I was worried when I couldn’t find you.” He squeezes me to him before adding, “I tried calling but you didn’t pick up.”
“I didn’t hear it,” I murmur. “But I tried calling and texting after I saw the messages. You didn’t answer.”
He pulls away just enough to lean his forehead against mine. “My phone sucks. It died on me.”
I let out a shaky little laugh. “Your phone does suck.”
“I scoured the party and tried finding you.”
“There were way too many people.” My gaze stays locked on his. “I looked for you, too.” I bite down on my lower lip, unsure if I want to add that I saw him walking up the staircase with his ex. There’s a part of me that just wants to enjoy this quiet moment with him.
Cole angles his face until his lips can sweep across mine. He continues to brush them over mine until my breath hitches with expectation and longing.
“Did I mention how worried I was when I couldn’t find you?” he whispers against my mouth until I’m breathless with need.
“It’s been noted.”
Bringing up Jackie now seems so stupid. Especially since he’s here with me. If Cole wanted to be with her, that’s exactly where he’d be. The last thing I want is for him to think I don’t trust him, because I do.
I trust him with all my heart.
In this moment, with his lips coasting over mine, his ex doesn’t mean a damn thing. She might want him but that doesn’tmean he has any interest in her. Honestly, now that I’m wrapped up in his arms, I feel foolish for thinking she could come between us.
He breaks our kiss and pulls away just enough for his gaze to skim down my body. “Lost the scrubs, huh? That’s a bummer.”
Rising on the tips of my toes, I suck his lower lip into my mouth before biting down on the plump flesh. “I’m game to give you a physical if that’s what you want, Mr. Mathews.”
A sexy smile curves across his face before his voice dips. “I was so hoping you were going to say that.”
Without another word, I pull the t-shirt and hockey jersey over his head. Somewhere along the way, he lost his shoulder pads. Just like always, my breath hitches at the sight of him standing before me in nothing more than a pair of low-slung jeans. No matter how many times I catch sight of him, his chiseled musculature always sends a punch of arousal straight to my core.
Unable to resist the temptation, my hands glide over the broad set of his shoulders before drifting to the rippling muscles of his biceps. My knees weaken as I continue stroking my fingers over his cut body. Stepping closer, I press my mouth against the firm solidness of his chest before slowly licking my way down the sinewy muscles of his six-pack.
He tenses when I nip at him with sharp teeth. Maybe I get carried away, biting down a little too hard. When I pull away, there’s the barest hint of indentations marring his taut flesh. The low groan that leaves his lips sends hot shafts of need flooding my panties.
The tips of my fingers drift over the ink that brands his skin. It begins on the right side of his ribcage before wrapping around his back. The shield is divided into four sections of red and black color. A large golden lion stands on its hind legs in the middle.On top of the shield sits a golden crown. The detail is gorgeous and intricate.
What I’ve learned is that Cole’s father’s family is Scottish, and this is the Mathews family coat of arms. Under the shield is his dad’s name written in beautiful script along with the dates of his birth and death. He inked it onto his skin when he turned eighteen in memory of his father who was killed a decade ago by a drunk driver.
“I love the way you touch me,” he growls.
“Not half as much as I love touching you,” I whisper against his warm flesh. I could do this all night long and never grow tired of it.
His hands wrap around my ribcage, the thumbs brushing the undersides of my breasts through the thin fabric of my tank top. Another ripple of pleasure shoots through me as his fingers drift to the frayed hem before slipping it over my head.
A heartbeat later and I’m just as bare chested as he is.
Not so long ago, it would have embarrassed me to stand in front of him like this, especially since I can feel the heat of his gaze licking over my upper body. Now, however, I love it. I love the worshipful way his eyes eat me up. The thrill of his attention has my nipples tightening. A sexy growl escapes from deep in his throat as his hands rise to gently cup the fullness of my breast before stroking the pebbled tips.
“Do you like that?” His voice is low and gravelly as his attention stays locked on the movements of his fingers.
When I don’t immediately respond, he tweaks each puckered bud.
