Page 124 of Shelter
I blinked. “Excuse me?”
Cole reached across the counter and plucked a blue toothbrush from a stainless-steel holder. He wagged it at me. “See? There’s just the one toothbrush. I’m happy to let you use it first, but if the thought of using my toothbrush gives you hives, I’ll just run to the Circle K and get—”
I grabbed it out of his hand. “We’ll share.”
His smile, so wide and unruly, lit up the room. The sight of it torched my cheeks.
I lowered my gaze and moved to the faucet so I didn’t have to face him. I wasn’t the kind of person to share a toothbrush with just anyone. I mean…gross.But this was Cole Whitehurst. My ideal. My touchstone. Besides, we’d just had sex upside down on his bed without a condom.
Without a condom!
The thought blasted through my brain like fireworks. I’d never, never, ever in my life had sex without a condom. In the moment, the notion of needing one hadn’t even crossed my mind. I was on the pill, but that reassurance hadn’t registered either. In fact, very little conscious, responsible thought had occurred to me from the instant his tongue touched my skin to the moment I caught my breath and returned to planet Earth in a post-orgasmic daze.
I rinsed his toothbrush under the tap and topped it with a swipe of toothpaste. As I brushed, Cole leaned a hip against the bathroom counter, watching me with an enigmatic grin.
“Wha…?” I asked around the toothbrush.
Cole shook his head, but his shoulders bobbed with his signature silent laugh. “Just you. Brushing your teeth with my toothbrush, in mybathroom, wearing my shirt…” He nodded with appreciation. “I like it.” He spoke softly, but every time he saidmy,I felt bolts of heat shoot down my front. And it wasn’t just at the way he said it. It was the look in his eyes, too. A claiming look. A no-turning-back look.
No turning back.
I didn’t want to turn back. God help me. I wanted this to be real. To be my future. I wanted to have faith that I wasn’t about to get my heart broken all over again. But I’d known nothing else. Not from Cole or anyone. My own father — whoever he was — had never bothered to claim me. To know me. Why should I expect anyone else to? Hell, not even Ava thought I was safe. Not only had she warned me that Cole was bound to hurt me somehow, she expected me to be the one to fight for him when he did.
How could I have promised her I would? I wasn’t even sure I had that kind of fight in me. And if I didn’t have it now, how would it suddenly manifest when Cole walked away from me again?
Lost in these unwelcome thoughts, I obsessively rinsed Cole’s toothbrush, scrubbing the head with my thumb. I counted to five. Ten. Fifteen. And then my hands were empty.
I jerked up to see the toothbrush in Cole’s grip and a questioning look on his face. “I… think it’s good,” he said gently. I watched him dab it with toothpaste. “You need to stop freaking out,” he added before popping the brush into his mouth.
“I-I’m not freaking out.”
Scrubbing his teeth with careless vigor, he raised a skeptical brow at me.
I crossed my arms over my chest. “I amnotfreaking out.”
He shrugged silently, brushing away. I scowled at him and waited for him to finish. Iwasfreaking out. Of course, I was freaking out. But arguing about it felt better than admitting the truth.
Bending over and giving me a breathtaking view of his muscled back, Cole rinsed his mouth before washing his hands. He dried them on a plush, white hand towel and turned back to me.
When he did, a little flicker of unreality poked me between the eyes. He was here. Right in front of me. Shirtless in jeans and barefoot. Fresh from ravishing me. It was enough to give me whiplash.
Coletsked.“You’re freaking out right now.” He shook his head in mock pity. “There’s just one thing to do.”
I blinked. “Wh-what’s that?” If he was going to suggest more sex, I might faint. I was having a hard-enough time accepting the fact we’d done it the once.
His hand closed around mine. “Hold you until you fall asleep.”
Out of all the things he could have said, this gentle, soothing answer was the one I expected the least. And the one I needed the most. My insides turned to melted caramel, and, holding Cole’s hand, I followed him back to the bedroom.
Before climbing into bed, Cole nodded at me, eyeing his shirt. “You want to put on something else? A T-shirt or something?”
I looked down at the beautiful, rumpled dress shirt that swam around me and shook my head shyly. The shirt was soft, massive, and his.
A warm satisfaction seemed to bathe in his eyes. “Good.” Cole moved to his closet, unzipping his jeans as he did.
Turning pink, I glanced away and spotted my neglected undies on the floor. I retrieved them and with as much grace and dignity as I could muster — which turned out not to be all that much — I shimmied into them. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Cole shed his jeans, and I took the opportunity to unclasp my skirt and let it fall. The hem of his shirt fell to the middle of my thighs, making it the perfect night shirt, but a terrible shyness still had me darting under the covers.
Cole returned to bed in a pair of navy, broadcloth shorts that looked soft and inviting. But as he moved with a lazy, masculine ease back to the bed, I couldn’t think about his shorts. Everything else was bare. And he was stunning. His broad swimmer’s shoulders… his toned and sculpted chest… his lean and muscled legs…
