I answer without thinking. “I’d never allow the kind of friends I have to be around you.”
She’s studying me again. More closely now, her gaze sharpening. She repeats her question from moments ago.
“That bad, huh?”
“Yes. They’re that bad.”
“But you’re not.”
“I am.”
“You can’t be. You’re wonderful.”
Only with you. “You ever hear that saying, ‘Birds of a feather flock together?’”
“Yeah?”
“It’s true. My flock is made of predatory night birds with sharp talons and cold hearts.” My voice drops. “And I’m the worst of them.”
She reaches out and traces her fingertip over my lower lip. Her gaze follows her touch. She whispers, “Your heart isn’t cold.”
“Everyone who knows me would say otherwise.”
She meets my eyes then. She meets my eyes and says something that almost destroys me.
“Then everyone who knows you is wrong, Cole. Your heart isn’t cold. It’s warm, and it’s beautiful. You just keep it on ice so nobody can melt it.”
I’m grateful that she scoots closer and presses her face to my chest, because I know I wouldn’t be able to hide from those eyes of hers, those gorgeous green eyes that see straight down to the darkest corners of my black soul. I gather her in my arms and inhale several slow, deep breaths, willing my pulse to stop hammering.
“Once upon a time…” she prompts.
“Right.” After a rough throat clearing, I continue. “Once upon a time, a bird of prey at rest on a tree branch saw a beautiful dove in a clearing far below.”
“This clearing was in a hotel bar, I take it.”
“Who’s telling this story, me or you?”
I feel her smile against my chest, the curve of her cheek pressing against my heart. “You.”
“Then be quiet.”
“You would have made a good dictator.”
When I sigh, she whispers, “Sorry.”
“Where was I?”
“Two birds in a bar. I mean clearing.”
“Yes. So the bird of prey sees the beautiful dove—”
“Wait, you were supposed to be telling a story of how we met as people in another life, not birds in this one.”
“Are you kidding me with this?”
She pounds a fist on my shoulder. “I want my story! Tell it right!”
I’m laughing again, because apparently that’s my new thing.
It’s good we’re only spending one night together. If we started dating, my reputation as a cold-blooded, ruthless bastard would be ruined within a week.
“All right, my stubborn little dove,” I murmur, kissing her temple. “Here’s your story. Once upon a time, the most perfect angel God ever created—”
“Now you’ve got a Biblical theme going?” she interrupts, exasperated. “First it’s birds, then it’s the Bible. I hate to tell you this, but you’re a terrible story teller.”
I roll her to her back and kiss her roughly, only coming up for air when she’s trembling beneath me, sinking her nails into my back and whimpering with need.
“That’s a relief, because I’m done talking. Time to get fucked again, sweetheart.”
“Thank goodness. I was about to fall asleep.”
We grin at each other. Then I reach for another condom, thinking the dozens she has in her handbag won’t be enough.
We fuck. We eat. We fuck again, repeatedly. We talk and laugh until the morning sun creeps through the window shades. When she’s yawning, her lids heavy and her beautiful eyes glazed with fatigue, I tuck her under the bedcovers and hold her until her breathing is deep and even.
Then I lie there struggling with how badly I want to stay until she’s awake again.
I want to know her. Everything about her. All her secrets and fears, all the things that make her who she is. But that would mean she’d have to get to know me too…and that would be a disaster.
I’m the last thing this incredible woman needs in her life.
But because I’m selfish, I stay longer than I should, breathing in her scent, feeling the warmth of her soft body, memorizing the exact color of her hair.
Then I rise and watch her lying peacefully on the bed as I silently dress. At the bedroom door, I turn back for one final, lingering look.
Goodbye, beautiful Shayna. It was my privilege.
Maybe in another life.
My heart aching, I walk out.
Shay