Hard Bastard(190)

He was silent for a second. “Yeah, I am,” he said finally. “But I don’t let myself get to that point.”

“How can you control it?”

“It’s not easy, but there are ways. Techniques, mental and breathing stuff, the sorts of things that can help you focus during really stressful situations.”

“Is that what you do when I get close to you?”

He raised an eyebrow and broke out into a huge smile. “Well, well, well. Was that your attempt at a dirty joke?”

I laughed, not able to help myself. “I guess so. You’re rubbing off on me.”

“Not yet, but I’d love to.”

I rolled my eyes. “There we go. For a second there I thought you were a human and not a total jackass.”

“You started it, sis,” he said. His face and lips were so close to mine, and I felt my breath coming in sharp and jagged.

The total opposite of what kept me calm, actually. He had that effect on me every time he got closer than a few feet. And yet I let myself get that close all the time because I loved it, loved the thrill in my chest, the hammering of my heart, the anticipation of what would happen next.

“I may have started it, but you’re always one step away.”

He had a huge, cocky grin on his face. “And don’t ever forget it.”

His lips were moving closer to mine. I could smell him. Everything about him filled my senses, flooded my mind. And then I caught something out of the corner of my eye, something glinting, something moving.

“Cole,” I whispered.

“Alexa, just give in to what you need,” he said.

“Cole,” I said louder.

He looked puzzled, his face inches from mine. “What?”

“Door!”

He spun around and saw it: a man had hustled out of the door, talking on his phone.

Cole moved faster than I thought he could. One second he was near me and the next he was lunging for the handle.

The guy on the phone didn’t even notice as Cole caught it just before the door clicked shut. He yanked it open, grinning hugely at me.

“See! I told you.”

“We almost missed because of you,” I said.

“Your fault, actually.”

I followed him inside, sighing loudly.

“Told you this would be easy,” he said as we walked toward the elevator.

“The hard part starts now, actually.”

“Which apartment?”

“3-C.”

“Got it.” He hit the button and we climbed into the elevator. We rode it up to the third floor. I spent the whole agonizingly slow ride trying not to look at him, trying to forget that I had been inches away from kissing him again. All because he had been vulnerable, or at least as vulnerable and human as Cole was capable of being.

The door opened and he walked down the short hall, whistling to himself.

“Shh,” I hissed at him. “Be quiet.”

“Why? We’re just delivery people.” He smirked at me.

“But wait—”

Before I could stop him, he pounded on 3-C’s door loudly.

“FedEx. Got a package,” he grunted.

I stared at him wide-eyed. Quickly, he moved off to the side, pushing me up against the wall. We stayed there quietly and listened as someone came to the door.

“Hello?” she called out.

“Yeah, it’s a big one,” Cole grunted. “You order a refrigerator or something?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Let’s go, lady. This thing is heavy as hell.”

There was a slight pause, and then the sound of locks clicking. Cole was practically buzzing with joy as the door swung open.

Marla was a bit shorter than me, maybe five foot four inches, and she was practically a dwarf compared to Cole. Her nut-brown hair was cropped short, and her nose was covered in freckles. She looked like she hadn’t showered in a day or two, and she was wearing sweats.

“Marla?” Cole asked.

Her eyed practically popped out of her head.

“I guess you know who we are,” he said, smiling. “Can we talk?”

Marla didn’t say a word. She just tried to slam the door in Cole’s face.

But he was too fast. He stuck his hand out, stopping it. He pushed it back open, but Marla was gone, already darting back into her apartment.

“Cole, wait!” I said as he followed her inside.

“Don’t be slow!” he shouted back at me.

I moved after them, entering the girl’s small apartment. It was nicely decorated with some decent thrift-store artwork on the walls and nice second-hand furniture, but it looked more like a student’s crash pad than where an actual working adult lived.

The living room was empty, and Cole was stalking across the place toward the bedroom.

“Marla, open up,” he called out. “Don’t make me break this door.”