Page 55 of Slow Burn
“What if you don’t like the answers?” she challenged.
He lowered the mug, steady though the faint flicker in his eyes betrayed him.
“This is your town,” she insisted. “The people here areyourpeople, your community.”
Cole set the coffee down and moved closer. “You think I’d rather protect this place and let a murderer walk free?”
There was something feral in the way he closed the distance between them. It sent a shiver down her spine—part unease, part attraction. She expected a smirk to dance around that sexy slash of a mouth, but it never appeared as she backed up. The window sill stopped her, and still he kept coming.
“I don’t know, Cole,” she said, breathless. “People always say they want the truth, but not when it hurts.”
He stopped only inches from her, but there was no victory in his expression, only intensity.
“I’m no stranger to pain, Jocelyn,” he said, voice rumbling and low. “I’d rather dig it up myself than have it hurled at my back.”
She searched his face for the proof that he meant it. “Just make sure you know what you’re yourself getting into.”
His gaze narrowed just a fraction. “Oh, I know what I’m getting myself into.”
The air thickened between them, and a foolish, impulsive part of her brain whispered it wouldn’t hurt to just push up on her toes, lay her mouth over his, put a match to the gasoline swirling between them. It was such a blistering heat that seared in the sliver of space that separated their bodies that she stupidly thought giving in might make it easier to douse the flame after.
Cole seemed locked in his own violent war with himself. He didn’t step back, but his muscles were clutched so tightly, theenergy to keep them frozen made a warmth radiate off of him, adding to the building pressure.
Her mind screamed,Just kiss me—and maybe she’d whispered it, because suddenly his mouth was on hers.
He pressed against her, hands firm but not wandering, only cupping the back of her head as his tongue tangled with hers. She clutched his shirt as the fire caught low in her body, flaring every nerve ending to screaming life. She was dangling at the edge of a precipice, and he was the only thing keeping her from falling.
A knock at the door snapped them apart.
“Cole?” A man’s voice called, dousing Jocelyn in cold reality.
“Shit.” Cole’s mutter brushed her ear before he called, “Hang on, Heath.”
Heat still burned in her cheeks when Cole opened the door to Sally’s husband. Heath stood there, exhaustion etched into every line of his face, the acrid smell of smoke clinging faintly to his clothes. His gaze snagged on Jocelyn standing across the room.
“Oh. You have a guest.”
Cole redirected by asking about the hotel.
“Yeah, that’s why I came by,” Heath said, attention shifting. “Wanted to see what you and me could do ourselves before we get quotes from contractors.”
“Oh, sure.” Cole glanced at her. “I’ll be there in a half hour.”
Heath nodded, looking dazed, like he didn’t know what his life was any more. Tragedy could sure do a number.
“We can walk over with you,” Jocelyn offered. “I want to chat with Sally anyway.”
Heath shrugged, relief evident in his expression.
She ignored the look Cole shot her. He wasn’t done with what had just happened between them. Neither was her body, but logic dictated that she put distance between them before she lost all sense.
“We’ll meet you over there, Heath,” Cole amended pointedly.
Heath’s brow furrowed, but he nodded and headed back down the steps.
After he shut the door, Cole turned on her, the same wild light in his eyes as before.
Before he could say a thing, she headed him off. “If we do this—”
