Page 75 of Slow Burn
And the fabric of the nightgown flared with flame, igniting across her body like she’d been covered in lighter fluid.
She jerked awake, her breath coming in lurching gasps.
Cole’s hand was steady on her back. “Jocelyn?”
She sat up, brushing the hair from her face. Faint light from around the edge of a curtain drew her eye, kept her from looking at him while her heart beat steadied.
“Joss?” he said again.
She sighed. “I’m fine.”
“That fucking word,” he growled, sitting up next to her.
She turned to look at him, startled by his tone.
“I’m tired of hearing it. You throw it out like I can’t handle the truth. Or like I don’t care.”
“I—” she started, but she had no defense. She looked away. “I’m sorry.”
“Damn it, don’t be sorry.” His hand cupped her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Don’t be sorry that other people have made you feel like you can’t say what’s botherin’ you. Just don’t treat me like I’m one of them.”
She pulled out of his grasp, but not to hide from him. Not anymore. She would make herself say it because he was right, and after everything, he deserved the truth.
“It was a dream. About the fire.”
He must’ve known which one she meant because he didn’t ask.
“I’ve always had them. But they’ve gotten worse this past year,” she admitted softly. “That’s why I started digging.”
His hand found the bare skin of her back again, tracing in that tender way that brought tears to her eyes. It took her a moment to let the emotions roll through her, and he just sat with her while they did. Patient. Steady.
“It’s not the whole thing," she finally said. "Only snippets. Just enough to throw me.”
And sometimes, things that never happened—scarier things that reminded her how fragile survival could feel.
After a long silence, he kissed her shoulder. “Tell me somethin’ else. Not about the fire. Somethin’ no one else knows about you.”
She glanced sideways at him.
“Besides those little noises you make,” he teased, a sly grin breaking through.
“Cole!” she gasped, swatting at him, and he caught her wrists with a laugh—low and loose, sweeter than anything she’d ever heard from him before. Maybe she'd unlocked something in him just as he had done to her. The warmth he radiated made something coil tight and hot down deep, the kind of heat that made her pulse thrum and her skin tingle.
He tugged her closer, leaning back to pull her on top of him. Then, without warning, he flipped them, and she gasped as she was pinned by the delicious weight of him.
He nuzzled into her neck. “Tell me all your secrets, Darlin’.”
“I don’t have secrets,” she said, breathless.
“You have plenty,” he rumbled against her throat. “Let’s start easy. Your favorite color?”
She laughed. “Maroon.”
“Favorite food.” It was a demand now as he moved downward, brushing his lips along her collarbone, back and forth, soft and tender and teasing.
“Um.” Her thoughts stuttered as he started a trail down her sternum. “I can’t—I don’t—”
He looked up at her from his position near her stomach. “Favorite food,” he repeated.
