Breaking Skin (2 page)

“He’s looking at you, Nikki. Go over there and talk to him before some tramp beats you to it.” Deedee eyes me expectantly.

Is he really still looking at me? I wouldn’t know because I refuse to glance in his direction.

“Are you kidding? I’m not going over there.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’ve been humiliated enough today.”

She stares down her nose at me. “How can someone who looks like you have so little confidence?”

I roll my eyes, even though that was sort of a compliment. “It’s not about confidence. He’s not my type.”

Deedee snorts. “Right. Tall, dark, and handsome isn’t your type.”

She’s got a point. He’s every girl’s type, but that doesn’t mean I have the balls to march over there and talk to him.

“He’s sitting down,” I say. “How do you know he’s tall?”

She grins slyly. “Not anymore. He just stood up, and I think he’s coming over here.”

My eyes widen in panic. I turn to see that Blue Eyes has indeed unfolded his long body from the chair and is standing to his full intimidating height. My stomach dips as he walks in our direction, his long legs eating up the distance, and I go still as sudden paralysis takes hold. For a moment, I hope he’s aiming for Deedee or Katy. The next moment I take it back, because
look
at him. Who am I kidding?

When he stops in front of me, my speculation ends but the panic remains and mixes with something more pleasant. How many girls did he walk past to get to me?

I look up at his strong, angular face and realize the span of his shoulders is so wide, it blocks out my view of the rest of the bar. I also notice that his nose is slightly crooked and a thin scar slashes through one of his dark eyebrows.

He doesn’t say a word at first. He only smiles in a slow, sexy way that makes my heart skip erratically. One of his friends appears beside him, claps him on the back, and flashes a smile in my direction.

“This is Cole and I’m Doc,” his friend says, looking at all of us while Cole still only looks at me.

Cole
. Blue Eyes is named Cole.

“Doc?” Deedee asks skeptically. “As in ‘What’s up, Doc?’”

He laughs. “They call me Doc because I’m a doctor, and Cole here—”

“Shovels coal?” Katy asks, teasing.

“Actually, Cole is a stockbroker.”

Cole turns to his friend with a quelling look. The idea of either of them being doctors or stockbrokers is ludicrous, and they know it.

Before I realize what he’s doing, Cole moves beside me and rests his hand on the bar, effectively blocking Doc and cutting me off from my friends. I can’t help but think of a wolf preying on a sheep, culling it from the herd.

“What’s your name?” he asks

I like the sound of his voice, low and controlled, deep and smooth. For some reason, I tell him my name is Nichole. I’m not lying but I am nervous, and the fact that no one calls me Nichole makes me feel less exposed, less vulnerable.

“Why do you look so unhappy tonight, Nichole?”

My lips part in surprise. How can he possibly see that? How can he see the truth when even my friends can’t?

But when he smiles again, common sense kicks in. That was probably a line. A guy like him must have all kinds of lines, and I’m naive enough to fall for all of them.

“You look unhappy too,” I say, giving his game a try. But the truth is, he does look a little melancholy. Of course, I’m drunk and I’ve never seen him before, so maybe he always looks this way.
Broody.
Sexy
.

He releases a subtle laugh. “I guess we have something in common then.”

“Lousy thing to have in common,” I mutter, and want to smack myself when his smile falters. He’s flirting, and I’m putting my foot in my mouth.

He points at my empty glass. “Can I buy you another one?”

I relax a little, surprised by how disappointed I’d be if I had scared him off. But he’s still as intimidating as hell, and I don’t know if I should let him buy me a drink. I lean back to look around Cole at Deedee and Katy standing behind him. They’re laughing, still talking to Doc and another guy from the table who’s joined them.

“Or I can leave you to your friends,” Cole says.

Panicked by my indecision, I lick my lips and watch his gaze lower to my mouth. My insides curl at the way he looks at me, at the sound of his voice, at how raw and potent my attraction is to him. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say Cole scares me. He’s a man who goes after what he wants, and I bet he usually gets it. That turns me on as much as it unsettles me.

What would it be like to sleep with a man like him, I wonder. Would he be forceful? A little rough, maybe? Would he toss me around like a rag doll or be heartbreakingly sweet? As I look up into those startling blue eyes, I realize how much I want to find out.

But should I?

I’ve never gone home with a man I met in a bar before. That’s the type of thing my sister, Renee, would do—get drunk, meet a random man, and sleep with him. I used to criticize her for it, warn her about the dangers and tell her she should value herself more highly.

But how often does a man like Cole approach me? He may be worth becoming a hypocrite for one night.

“Why did you come over here to talk to me?” I ask. “Did your buddies put you up to it?”

Cole scratches his cheek. “No. I don’t let people tell me what to do. Do you?”

His voice holds a challenge, and I wonder if my question offended him. My teeth sink into my bottom lip.

“No. I don’t,” I reply softly, averting my gaze.
Not anymore.

Cole touches a finger to my chin to reclaim my attention. “How about this, Nichole? We sit and have a drink together. One drink, no pressure, and then we can call it a night if you want.”

My nerves must be showing, but he’s still here and he’s not pushing. Maybe I’ve misjudged him. I pegged him for arrogant and aggressive, not perceptive and understanding. I’ve had an entire debate in my head about him without actually knowing him at all.

“Okay. One drink,” I say, missing his touch the moment his finger leaves my chin.

He smiles, showing straight white teeth, and butterflies come alive in my stomach, applauding my decision.

Cole signals the bartender, and soon he’s carrying both our drinks to a quiet table by the window. As I follow him, Deedee catches my eye and winks. I can’t help grinning back before I sit down in the chair Cole pulls out for me.

“Thank you,” I say as he sits down and moves his chair closer to mine.

I take a sip of what I now realize is another tequila shot. That’s what was in the empty glass I was holding and so he got me another. I’d rather have something less potent, but I don’t want to be rude, so I take a small sip from the glass rather than tip the whole thing back the way I did earlier.

“So, what’s it like being a stockbroker?”

Cole laughs. “I’m not a stockbroker.”

“I didn’t think so.”

“What do you do, Nichole?”

“I’m a bounty hunter,” I reply, surprised by how easily the joke comes now that the pressure is off.

His smile widens. “So it’s like that.”

“Like what?” I take another sip, larger this time. “You don’t believe I’m really a bounty hunter?”

He leans in close. “All I know for certain about you is that you’re beautiful.”

My eyes widen as my face heats. “Nice line. Very smooth.” I laugh to cover my embarrassment.

The problem is, he isn’t laughing. The narrowing of his eyes makes me think he actually means it.

I sit back in my chair and finish off my drink, suddenly in need of more courage. After a moment, the room sways, and I realize that last drink was the tipping point. I’m as high as a kite.

Cole and I continue to chat but I’m hardly aware of what I say or what he says. I watch his full lips move, but I can only think of how they’ll feel when they collide with mine.

Sometime later, Katy and Deedee approach the table to tell me it’s time to go.

Cole looks at me, and the message in his eyes is clear. He wants me to stay, but he sits back and says nothing. He leaves it to me, and I’m not ready to say good-bye yet. Not even close. I turn to my friends and announce that I’m staying.

Despite her encouragement earlier, Deedee is reluctant to go. It takes some convincing to make her leave me behind. Eventually she does, but first she snaps a picture of Cole and threatens to show it to the police if anything happens to me. He laughs good-naturedly, and his lack of concern must convince her that he’s not an ax murderer.

Cole and I stay at the bar until all our friends have gone. When he stands and pulls my chair out for me, the rest of the night is a certainty in my mind. I’m bringing him home.

My decision is one part liquid courage, one part pure lust, and two parts recklessness born of a day I’d rather forget. I came here wanting to disappear into oblivion, but this is so much better. Taking Cole home is a far more pleasant way to lose myself, to pretend I’m not the heartless daughter who didn’t shed a tear when she got the news about her mother’s stroke today. The daughter who couldn’t feel the smallest twinge of remorse.

I’m not upset because of my mother’s failing health. I’m upset because I don’t care.

As I get to my feet a little too deliberately, Cole frowns. “Nichole, I think you’ve had—”

“I’m fine.” I interrupt him before he can say I’ve had too much to drink, and I smile to take the edge off my abruptness. I sense his hesitance but when I meet his gaze with an unwavering one of my own, Cole’s reluctance fades. I need him tonight. I need him to make me feel something.

Out on the street, Cole hails a cab, and the next thing I know I’m giggling because I can’t get my key into the lock of my apartment door.

“Are you sure?” he asks softly beside my ear, sending shivers down my spine.

When I nod, he smoothly takes the key from my hand and lets us inside. The rest of the night is a strange mix of hazy memories and vivid ones that sear themselves into my mind.

There are certain events in your life that leave an indelible mark. They change you because they write themselves on your soul. This night falls into that category. I ride a high that erases my inhibitions and opens my eyes to a truth I’ve known for a long time.

I choose the wrong men, but tonight the right one chose me.

Cole treats me unlike any man I’ve been with before. His eyes are heated, but his touch is reverent. When the lips I’ve been watching all night finally meet mine, the kiss we share is charged by the natural electricity between us. I’ve just decided he’s going to be a tender lover when he fists his hand in my hair and tugs to get a better angle on my mouth, making my knees go weak.

Despite the need I sense building in him, Cole stays in control, taking his time to undress me as he drops tender kisses on my newly exposed skin. He told me I was beautiful in the bar, but now he makes me feel beautiful, like I’m special and not some stranger he just met. He looks into my eyes with such intensity, I think he
sees
me
, the real me, a person I haven’t let anyone see in a very long time.

At some point, I make the decision to pretend Cole isn’t a stranger. He’s my partner, my best friend, the person I come home to each night. I run my fingers through his hair and imagine that we belong to each other, relishing the moment he lifts me in his arms and lays me across the bed. We touch each other, breathe each other in, and I let myself fall into the fantasy.

When he braces himself above me, I admire his muscular chest, sighing at the delicious friction of skin on skin. The low groan that vibrates through him as he slowly enters me sets my body on fire. As I watch him move rhythmically, I’m completely captivated by the mask of ecstasy on his face.

I’m close to the edge when I arch my back and wrap my arms around his neck, anchoring myself to Cole, preparing for the climax bearing down on me. My muscles tense, and then I’m convulsing around him as I shatter to pieces in his arms.

Those arms are still around me when my breathing returns to normal and the world coalesces back into the familiar shape of my bedroom. Cole’s rough cheek scratches mine as he drowsily whispers one word in my ear.

Perfect.

When I gradually come awake the next morning, blinking against the sunlight, my head pounds and I can smell his aftershave on my sheets. After drinking so much last night, my thoughts are strangely clear. There’s no fuzzy hangover muddling my mind. I know exactly where I am and precisely what I did. I also know I’m alone. I can feel it in the quiet, in the stillness of the air.

He’s gone.

As images from last night flood my memory, I wait for regret but it doesn’t come. There is no
What have I done?
moment of shame. My only regret is that I don’t remember the entire evening as sharply as I’d like. But if I hadn’t been drinking, it wouldn’t have happened, and that would have been the real shame.

I pull the sheet up to my nose to breathe him in, and his lingering scent makes my skin flush with heat. I close my eyes, recalling the feel of his hands on me as they skimmed down my sides and smoothed over my hips before gripping them firmly. I imagine him here and think about him touching me.