“Cole,” she begged.
“Don’t cry,” he growled, cupping her face between his work-calloused hands. “It’s going to be okay, Shaw. I won’t let him hurt you anymore. Shaw?”
“Shaw? Are you okay?”
She started, whisked back to the present. She found herself at the desk instead of the couch, but with Cole’s hands still holding her. They were on her shoulders instead of her cheeks. But his face was as close as in her memory.
Her memory…
“Where did you go, darlin’?” he asked, his voice sounding just as it had all those years ago.
She gasped. Shock slammed into her, electrifying nerve endings from her toes up, ringing in her ears, propelling her out of his arms, his lap, the chair they were sitting in.
She was remembering. Not her shooting, but her life long before she’d been hurt. She was wide awake this time. And the past, at least one confusing moment of it, was staying with her.
She was coming back to herself—who she’d once been and whomever, whatever, Cole Marinos had once been to her.
She stared at him.
“You said that once before.” She couldn’t stop staring at his mouth, feeling the sensation of his teenage lips on hers. She could still taste him. “Here, in this room.”
“What?” he asked softly. “What did I say?”
“Darlin’. You called me darlin’, like you did when we were teenagers, waiting in this room together.”
She pressed her hand to her temple, letting herself hope. It was starting. Her memory was finally coming back.
“What else did you see?” He stood, too, watching her with an intensity that demanded she answer him.
“Us. I remembered us, when we were teenagers.” Oh. My. God. “I thought the feelings I’ve been having for you since you showed up last night were merely more proof that I’d officially gone ’round the bend. But we were more than friends, weren’t we?” She swallowed. “We were right there.” She pointed at the couch. “And I was upset and afraid, like now. And you were…holding me then, too. We were…”
She gestured between them.
He went completely still. “We were what?”
“Kissing,” she blurted out, her cheeks hot with embarrassment.
If he didn’t say something soon, something to spare her from herself, she was quite simply going to burst into flames.
Cole inhaled slowly, his focus dropping from her to the floor. He dug his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels.
That was it? This rugged, take-no-prisoners-and-ask-questions-later man who’d, as a teenager, promised to protect her forever, then had barged back into her isolated world all grown up and refusing to leave, was being…bashful?
Or was he working double-time to keep something from her, like Dawson was?
She blinked. She had no idea where the suspicious thought had come from, but it felt unnervingly right. As right as a dash of ice water to her spinning senses. The question she had to hear him answer now slapped her like an open palm to her face.
“What were we to each other, Cole?”
They weren’t going to keep dancing around whatever he didn’t want to discuss about their past. Not if he was going to stay in her house.
“Answer me.”
His head snapped up. The look he blasted at her was a muddle of hurt and anger and need. She watched, warily entranced, as the grudge match played out. In the end, need prevailed. Cole’s bone-melting desire for her mirrored the avalanche of sensations that had ruled them as teenagers.
“You said remembering too quickly might damage your mind more. I didn’t know what would be safe to tell you.” He rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. “We were lovers, Shaw. When we were teenagers, until your father banished me from your life, we were in love.”
…
Shaw looked magnificent, standing with her hands clenched at her sides, demanding her due. Whatever she’d remembered as Cole had felt her draw inward and away from his touch, she had returned from her withdrawal more off-balance but far more powerful. More like the self-reliant businesswoman she’d become since her father’s death.
“We were…” Her blush was a sexy temptation. “My father…”
She cocked her head to the side as if her mind hadn’t fully processed either Cole’s revelation or whatever else she’d recalled.
“Why didn’t you tell me,” she said, switching gears, “that there was more to us than a platonic friendship?”
Platonic? Cole edged farther away. It was the only way he could keep his hands off of her, rather than continuing the kisses she’d started in the hallway. And not stopping until she was naked and flushed and coming her brains out beneath him. As it was, he wanted her back in his arms, cuddled against his chest, the soft, lush feel of her hardening his body to the breaking point.