Page 10 of Wrecked
He held the door open and grunted. Lovely.
“Did you take an extra dose of grumpy with your Wheaties this morning?” She couldn’t stop herself from poking the bear, trying to get him to react.
Not that it did her any good. He completely ignored her, just stood there waiting. And I’m the stubborn one. Grabbing her purse, she climbed out, holding up her dress while rummaging through her bag to find her house keys. Thank god she still had Cole’s jacket on, and not just for the obvious reason. Her nipples still hadn’t recovered from the effects of having that voice directed at her, all growly and demanding, and were hard and aching.
She could feel his eyes on her as she took the steps. Hear his uneven gait as he followed behind her.
So focused on the man at her back, she misjudged the second step and stumbled forward. “Shit.”
Quick as a flash, he grabbed her around the waist, dragging her up against his hard chest and stomach, rescuing her before she could fall.
“Jesus Christ, Piper. Watch where the fuck you’re going.” Then he growled under his breath, something about paying more attention to her surroundings and needing some goddamn sensible shoes.
Her fingers had automatically latched onto his forearm, and she could feel the hard, corded muscle bunch through his shirt. “There’s nothing wrong with my shoes.”
Righting herself, she carried on, noting the way his hand dropped away only to settle against the small of her back. All her nerve endings seemed to cluster below the point of contact, while that gentle press through his jacket, a firm, steady, reassuring weight, guided her up the rest of the stairs.
She’d always been a physical, huggy kind of person, but Cole’s hand affected her more than the simple touch should, made her off balance, breathless, and yeah, hot as hell.
He snorted. “They’re fucking near indecent is what they are.”
“Indecent?” she sputtered. “Are you saying they look like stripper shoes?”
Her pulse picked up speed when they reached the door and he didn’t remove his hand. No, he slid it up from her lower back to her shoulder. Her world narrowed, and all she could focus on was the continued contact.
She jumped when he reached around, taking the keys from her fingers, bringing that solid wall of warmth in close, hard against her back. “You want to go inside, right?” His voice rumbled through his chest, vibrating against her. She desperately wanted to lean back into him. “And no, I don’t think they look like stripper shoes.”
He unlocked the door, and Piper rushed inside, needing some distance between them. She flicked on a light and punched in the code on the security alarm. “Well, I wouldn’t tell Alex you don’t like them…” Her words died on her lips when she spotted an envelope on the floor.
She hadn’t realized she was frozen until Cole moved up behind her. “Piper? What is it?”
Scooping it up quickly, careful not to tear her dress from top to bottom, she shoved it in her purse. “Nothing.”
Goddammit.
The last thing she needed was Cole going all overprotective, ex-cop on her, or worse, telling her brother. They’d gang up on her and make her move. Deacon already hated the idea of her living on Axle Alley alone. If he knew someone was harassing her, bombarding her with calls and showing up at her front door unannounced, trying to push her to sell the cottage, he’d force her to move out. She had no doubt her sister and Alex would take his side as well. Her house was sitting on prime land, and apparently, this particular real estate agent was having trouble taking no for an answer. The guy needed to clue in, she would never sell her gran’s cottage. Never.
“Doesn’t look like nothing.”
She forced a grin. “Just some junk mail. Do you want a drink or something?” She looked over her shoulder to find him studying her, bright blue eyes taking her in, like he was trying to figure her out but failing miserably.
“I’m checking the place before I go.” Then he limped past her, into her house.
Guess that’s a no on the drink, then? “I have an alarm, remember? You put it in yourself,” she called after him. Of course he ignored her.
She threw her bag on the couch and went after him. He was walking out of the bathroom, crossing the hall to her bedroom. “Cole.” She didn’t want him in her bedroom. It was kind of a mess. It was also the place where she’d had numerous dirty fantasies about him. Somehow it seemed far too intimate for him to see where she slept, where she occasionally touched herself while thinking about him. She jogged clumsily after him in her heels. “Cole…”
She rounded the corner and found him standing by her bed, body locked, eyes fixed on the scrap of pink silk and lace she’d bought on a whim when they’d all gone shopping for Alex’s honeymoon. Usually, she’d save something so expensive for a special occasion, but that was before. Before she decided to enjoy herself. Before she’d decided to stop waiting around for things that were never going to happen. Now she had a whole collection of silky nighties, and she wore them all.
He made a noise in the back of his throat that sounded a lot like a growl, then lifted his head. His cheeks had darkened, and his eyes glittered when they locked with hers. Crap. She jammed her lips together, cringing inwardly, and rushed over, shoving it under her pillow.
“That’s just my…It’s…” She turned to face him, but he’d moved. He now loomed over her, all big and scarred—and beautiful.
“Your what?” he rumbled.
“My nightie?” Why she posed it as a question she had no idea. Right then all she could focus on was the way her pulse had narrowed to an agonizing point between her thighs, pounding so hard she had to squeeze them together to stop the ache.
His breathing grew heavy, eyes wild. “You wear that to bed?”
