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by Ashley Jade
Oh. Well, then.
My mouth goes dry and my palms begin to sweat…until I remember.
Cole might be drunk and having a rough night…but he also has a girlfriend.
Someone has to put the brakes on whatever this is before he does something he’ll regret.
“I don’t think Casey—you know, your girlfriend—would like that.”
He breaks eye contact. “I don’t think she’ll care.”
Yeah, he’s more intoxicated than I thought. “Of course, sh—”
“I’m pretty sure she’s cheating on me.”
Casey is the last person in the world I want to defend, but I pride myself on giving good advice.
“Don’t you think you should talk to her about it and ask her, instead of assum—”
“Nah.” His laughter is bitter. “I don’t give a shit who she spreads her legs for on the down-low.”
“Oh.”
That’s a whole different issue entirely then.
“Everybody cheats.” I watch as his Adam’s apple bobs. “Everyone lies.” Another bitter laugh breaks free. “Even my dad cheated on my mom, and he used to look at her like she was his whole goddamn world.”
His jaw works. “He dragged her away from India—away from her career and family—because he was selfish and couldn’t bear the thought of being without her. Then the bastard cheated…and now she’s worm food while he’s still living and breathing. Still fucking whores named Nadia who look like his dead wife and still ignoring his children.” His nostrils flare on an indrawn breath. “It’s not fair.”
Wow. “I—”
“Don’t. Don’t defend what he did or tell me everyone makes mistakes. Let him wallow in his guilt. He deserves to.” Turmoil splashes across his features and his voice drops to a whisper. “We both do.”
My heart folds in on itself. It’s not Cole’s fault his mom died.
It’s not his father’s either—even if he did betray his wife—but I’m not touching that with a ten-foot pole.
“Hey.” Placing my palm against his cheek, I wait for him to look at me. “It wasn’t your fault.”
Casting his gaze down, he leans into my touch. “Say it again.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” I repeat with even more conviction.
Breath frazzled, he searches my face. “Bible Thumper?”
Despite the nickname, I respond. “Yeah?”
The agony swirling in his eyes is unmistakable. “How come lies are so beautiful and the truth is always so fucking ugly?”
Jesus. Before tonight, I’d never peg Cole as introspective. However, it turns out that gnawing feeling I’ve always had about him being more than surface level, was dead on.
Mulling over his question, I tell him the only thing that makes sense to me. “Lies are easier to believe because they usually protect someone or conceal something bad.” Chewing on my bottom lip, I add. “Or, maybe it’s because there is no truth…definitively anyway. We all have our own truth…and whatever version aligns best with that is what we gravitate toward and believe…even if it’s a lie. I guess in the end it comes down to selfishness.”
I give my head a small shake when I realize how long winded and confusing my response probably was. “Sorry, I didn’t really answer your question.”
His expression is somber. “No, you did.” He runs his thumb over my knuckle. “Tell me something about you I didn’t know before tonight.” His chiseled face turns serious. “Something real…something that hurts.”
That’s…random and a bit fucked-up.
Then again, drunk people don’t tend to make a lot of sense.
“I don’t know. I’m not sure there’s any—”
“Yes, there is.”
He’s right, there are some private, hurtful things I keep to myself and don’t share with others…but I suppose there’s no harm in telling him, given he’s so drunk he’ll probably forget.
“My parents have slept in separate bedrooms for the last two years and they barely even talk to each other anymore.” Unless I’m in the room, then they go through me. “But they refuse to divorce.”
I wait for a twinge of something, but it doesn’t come. It’s been going on so long I’ve pretty much become complacent about the whole thing.
Or maybe I’m just numb now?
“Why?”
Nope, that’s not something I’m willing to tell him. He already makes fun of my faith every chance he gets. This will just give him more fodder.
“None of your business.”
It’s clear he doesn’t like that response, but he doesn’t push. “Cole isn’t my real name.”
Yeah, I did not see that coming.
“It’s not?”
He shakes his head. “Not technically.”
The suspense is killing me. “What’s your real name?”
“Why won’t your parents get divorced?”
Even drunk, he’s a jerk. I’m pretty sure he can figure it out, he just wants me to say it.
I’ve met atheists before, and most are respectful of those who believe…but not Cole.
It’s like he’s holding a personal grudge against God and uses any excuse to ridicule his existence.
“Your birthday isn’t in November,” I point out, changing the subject. “Last year Christian threw a birthday party for you in November.”
He shrugs. “So?”
It’s August. “You lied.”
He smirks. “Like I said before…everyone lies.”
That doesn’t sit well with me…especially since he asked me to tell him something real.
That said, it would make me a hypocrite to chastise him, when I’m intentionally sidestepping his question. Here goes nothing.
“My uncle and grandfather are ministers. My mom is their secretary and runs the books at their church. We grew up in a...” Closing my eyes, I cut straight to the point. Me growing up in a small southern town isn’t relevant. “Divorce is frowned upon.”
I suck in a breath as a flicker of hurt bubbles in my chest. There it is.
My parents aren’t in love anymore, but our faith has them convinced it’s wrong to separate…even though I’m positive God wouldn’t want them to stay miserable.
I hate the smug smile on Cole’s face. “Because the fictional man upstairs will send them to Hell?”
I pull my hand back. “Why do you hate him so much?”
The glare he shoots me is cruel. “I can’t hate someone who doesn’t exist.” He raises a shoulder in a shrug. “But for the record, if your imaginary little man in the sky was real? It’s safe to say he’s the one who started the war between us…not me.”
My chest grows heavy. There’s definitely something indignant and ugly brewing inside him.
His thumb brushes the corner of my mouth, taking me by surprise. “It’s crazy how the most genuine person I’ve ever met could believe in something so fucking bogus.”
Sticks and stones, I remind myself, but my brain doesn’t get the message.
“It’s crazy how the most beautiful guy I’ve ever laid eyes on could be so hideous inside.” I mutter a curse when I realize I said that aloud. “I’m sorry. That was rude. I didn’t mean—”
“Yeah, you did.” He doesn’t look at all upset or offended. Quite the contrary…he almost looks happy. Must be the alcohol.
“Colton.” His eyes narrow. “Tell anyone and I’ll make your life a living hell…one that’s ten times worse than the one your little God threatens you with.”
I slap his hand away. “You’re such an asshole.”
“You gonna keep stating the obvious?” His stare drifts to the door. “Or are you gonna do the smart thing and leave?”
He’s testing me, I realize. If he really wanted me to leave, he wouldn’t keep looking at me like he needs someone to save him.
Cole’s waiting for my reaction, but I refuse to give him one. “I’m comfortable right here.”
“Suit yourself.” His gaze drops to my chest. “Wond
er how comfortable you’d be if I unbuttoned that sweater of yours and stuck my face between your tits?”
I’m grateful the lights are off because my cheeks feel like they’re on fire.
“Colton—”
“Cole,” he corrects. “Relax, Bible Thumper. If I was interested in your tits, they’d already be in my mouth. Same goes for your virgin cunt.”
Yeah, he’s definitely testing my patience right now—and plucking my very last nerve like it’s his personal guitar.
He reaches for my hand again, and heaven help me, because I let him.
“I was born August twenty-first, but we don’t celebrate my birthday until November.”
That’s…weird. “Why?”
His hand goes rigid. “My family didn’t feel up to celebrating the day Liam was born after he offed himself, so Jace suggested I pick a new date. One that didn’t remind them of Liam’s death.”
My chest coils. It’s all I can do not to wrap my arms around him, but something tells me he would interpret that as pity and wouldn’t respond well to it.
“Any reason you picked November?”
“November seventh.” His lips curve. “And yeah…it’s the best month in football.”
I’m processing the irony when an image of Cole on the football field races through my head. “Your jersey number. Everyone calls you lucky seven.”
He waggles his eyebrows. “That’s because I am.”
For a moment I think he’s going to drone on about how impressive his arm is, or rattle off his stats, but what he says next is much worse.
“Given I’m the twin who’s still alive and all.”
Whoa. Self-deprecating is one thing, but this…
It’s almost like his warped version of armor.
Kind of like how the fat girl jokes about being heavy before anyone else can.
We do it to protect ourselves, but it only digs the knife that much deeper…because we’re acknowledging we see ourselves the same way everyone else does.
We’re admitting we’re just as worthless as they make us feel.
I can’t imagine what it must feel like to be in Cole’s position and lose my twin brother, but I do know what it’s like to use parts of your personality as a shield to try and protect what’s on the inside.
Because the truth is so ugly it hurts.
“Cole—”
“Don’t.” His voice is a razor’s edge from cracking. “Don’t waste your time trying to fix me. You’ll only cut yourself on my fucked-up pieces.” The look he gives me twists my insides. “And when that happens…I’ll watch you bleed out with a smile on my face.”
I’ve never met someone who was beyond saving before, but I guess there’s a first for everything.
I should walk away.
I should forget this random, bizarre conversation of ours…and leave him here by himself.
I should keep pretending I’m not completely entranced by him.
There are so many things I should do…
Yet, I move closer.
“Threaten me all you want, but I’m not afraid of you, Cole Covingt—”
I don’t get to finish that sentence because his mouth crashes against mine.
Oh. My. God.
I swear my brain checks out and my heart skips several beats.
Cole tastes exactly like I always imagined he would. Beer, heaven…and carnal sin.
The latter is a glaring reminder.
Breaking the kiss takes more willpower than turning down a decadent chocolate cake when you haven’t eaten in twelve hours.
“We can’t. This is wrong.”
“Christ. Not only is your God judgmental, he’s one hell of a cockblocker too.”
It’s hard not to laugh because…well, he’s not exactly wrong there.
However, Cole’s assumption about why I’m stopping this is.
“This has nothing to do with God. This has to do with you chea—”
“Casey isn’t here. She’s probably talking to the guy she’s been texting all week.” Shifting, he grinds against me, making my senses rattle all over again. “Even if she was here, I’d be wishing it was you.”
There’s not enough air in the room after that statement.
But as much as I wish it was true and he was being sincere, I know better.
“You’re drunk.”
“And you’re beautiful.” My eyes flutter closed as he kisses a path down my jaw. “And real.”
Cole’s cutting remark from before zips through my head. “Funny, I could have sworn you said something about not being interested in me a few minutes ago.”
He gives me a cocky smirk. “Told you, sweetness…I’m a liar.”
His lips close the distance between us before I can argue.
Good Lord. Trying to fight Cole’s kiss is like trying to fight quicksand you’re already sinking in.
I tried to do the honorable thing. That has to count for something, right?
All my life, I’ve tried my hardest to take the moral high road. For once, I want to indulge and see what it’s like to be the girl who gets the guy.
Even if it’s only because the guy is drunk and I’m…here.
Parting my lips, I let his tongue sweep inside.
Like the flip of a switch, his kiss goes from light and teasing to intense and all-consuming.
It’s a struggle to breathe as he greedily explores every inch of my mouth, like he’ll never get enough.
My heart pounds—with nerves and pleasure—as his hands start roaming.
His fingers toy with the first button of my sweater. “You okay?”
No. I’m petrified.
The furthest I’ve ever gone was whatever the base is before you hit a home run, I think—and it was with Tommy DaSilva.
He was a wolf in sheep’s clothing. An asshole hiding behind a contrived, good boy exterior.
And the Covingtons’ biggest enemy.
But I didn’t know any of that when we met online…on a Christian dating forum.
It wasn’t until we started talking privately in a chat that he disclosed he was from Royal Manor too. However, he didn’t attend RHA like me. Up until he graduated last year he went to the public school across town.
Tommy suggested we meet up…but I declined.
A month went by, and like clockwork, he kept asking to hang out.
Finally, I came clean and told him I didn’t want to because I was afraid he wouldn’t like the way I looked. He didn’t strike me as vain, but I knew from his picture he was good looking and was on the football team.
Tommy assured me all would be fine, and he didn’t judge people on their appearance.
Eventually I caved, and we met up at some drive-in movie theater a few towns over.
We clicked instantly, the conversation and laughter flowed…everything was perfect.
Eventually, one thing led to another and we ended up going further than I anticipated.
I didn’t regret giving him a hand job, though…not until he said it was getting late and he had to head home.
I thought for sure he’d ignore me, based on how abruptly he left after he got off, but to my surprise, he texted me that night and said a bunch of stuff that made me blush and feel wanted.
We agreed to hang out again that weekend.
But he blew me off.
Well, until after he left the party he was at with his football buddies.
I should have known right then things weren’t serious between us, and he was only looking for a booty call—but given I was young and inexperienced, I gave him the benefit of the doubt.
And after some convincing on his part…another hand job.
Again, he left just as quickly as he came.
Only this time when he texted me later, he wasn’t full of compliments and dirty talk.
He told me I was a sweet girl, but he didn’t see a future with me because he wasn’t attracted to my body type. He tried to look past it, but he realized after our second hookup we
were better off as friends.
To his credit, we did talk for a few weeks after and he kept the conversation respectful and friendly.
Even though I couldn’t fault him for not being attracted to me, and I gave him credit for being honest about it, I’d be lying if I said it didn’t bruise my ego.
I might not be a ten, but I’m still a human with feelings.
Feelings that are currently going haywire thanks to Cole Covington looking at me like I’m something he wants to eat while undoing the first few buttons of my sweater.
I’m so scared he’s going to be disgusted with what he sees—he’ll make up excuses and leave.
Placing my hand on top of his, I stop him before he reaches the last button.
To my astonishment, Cole doesn’t protest, he goes back to kissing me.
“I want you,” he murmurs between kisses, or at least I think he does.
His slurring is becoming worse and his breathing is growing shallow.
I’m about to ask if he’s okay, but his lips travel down…until he’s sucking and biting a tender spot on my neck that has tingles racing up my spine.
Shit.
I have to stop this. He doesn’t know what he’s doing.
Girl, please—my mind taunts. Cole knows exactly what he’s doing.
The clever asshole’s turning me to putty with every stroke of his tongue.
A garbled hiss leaves me when his mouth dips lower, grazing my cleavage.
“Jesus,” he groans. “I knew they were big, but these are…”
Ginormous, kinda saggy, non-symmetrical.
“Fucking perfect.” He blows a hot gust of air over the soft, white material covering my breast and kneads the other one with his big hand. “I need them in my mouth.”
Good God. Eve had it easy with that dang apple.
If the Devil really wanted to tempt her, he should have made her spend two minutes alone in a room with Cole Covington while he touched her body and whispered dirty things.
My cheeks heat as I glance down and he buries his face in my boobs, groaning my name.
I silently pray for the strength to stop this before it goes too far.
“We can’t have sex,” I croak, coming to my senses.
“Relax.” I gasp when he nips my nipple through my bra. “I just want to suck these for a little while.” The hand massaging my other breast slips down, and he plucks the waistband of my leggings. “And find out what this untouched pussy of yours tastes like.”