SO COLD (18+) currently editing

Chapter 63.7

"Go anywhere near her and you'll spend the rest of your days in your own chest box. Alone, miserable and cold. What have I said to you, Trevor? Why are you still standing here?" Cole wrapped an arm around my waist and tugged me to his naked chest, possessive and protective. "Take a couple of hours and rest. You look like you're running on energy drinks."

"Where's Irvin?" Trevor was stubborn to move. "He hasn't given up his phone for inspection neither. I sent him a text message yesterday, too. Why did you both ignore me?"

"Trevor, if I have to get up I'll throw you out of the motherfucking window instead of the door. Leave. NOW!" Cole exploded, face flushed with rage.

The bedroom door was slammed shut by a disgruntled Trevor. Silence settled like dust in the room, slowly wafting to the cool oak floorboards. I heard Cole sigh almost inaudibly, relaxing his tense muscles. "I'll get a lock for your door." He said quietly, moving to rest a leg between mine, half on top of me, head in the crook of my neck, eyes closed.

My hands skimmed across the expanse of his muscular back. "Relax," I whispered, running my fingers lightly in invisible patterns across his skin. "Your muscles are strained."

"He irritated me," he disclosed, voice low, a murmur, arms tightening around me. "I don't like my men around you not after what happened with Oscar. Aside from James and Irvin the fool, I can't trust any of them to be near you especially not alone and not while you're asleep. I'll beat the bastard later."

"The man is dead. The memories have been buried with him. I wish people would stop walking on eggshells around me and stop mentioning his name. It makes me anxious and I feel terrified and I don't wish to feel like that ever again. He's gone. Let him be dead."

"Supressing your emotions–"

"I'm not supressing my emotions." I interrupted, voice sharp. "I don't want to be reminded of him. I don't want to think about him. I don't want – ugh." I made a noise of frustration. "What is the point in dragging the past with us? I'm not trying to forget all of this so that there'll be an inevitable and extreme break down in the near future. I want to move on. Take a step forward and not have his hands on me, jerking me ten steps back. Please. I don't like being reminded."

"I'm sorry," he said gruffly, "I didn't mean to make you cry."

"I'm not crying, I'm just – fuck." I blew a breath upwards, fanning my face with my hand. "I'm slightly teary and emotional and lethargic. And I'm not upset at you." I cupped his cheek and kissed him. I didn't pull away, lowering my eyes, close to him. "Can we move on – together?" My voice was a whisper, a plead.

"Of course," he kissed my forehead, lingering and then pulled back. "Go to sleep."

"Cole?"

"Hmm?"

"I love you."

"I love you, too." He pulled me into his side, held me to his chest and played absentmindedly with a lock of my hair long after I fell asleep, troubled and wide awake with his thoughts.

**

At quarter to ten, Cole nudged my shoulder gently. "Morning," he brushed my hair from my face, dressed in a grey sweatshirt and black sweatpants hanging low, "I've got you breakfast. Coffee and a lemon muffin. Come on, get up." He propped pillows behind my back and stood back.

I wiped the sleep from my eyes and straightened up, kicking back the covers and crossing my legs. I yawned loudly and stretched my arms above my head. I smacked my dry mouth together. "Where are you going?"

"The day is over."

"Stay."

"Shay," he rubbed his forehead, afflicted. He looked at me. "You know I can't."

"An hour longer. What will it matter?" I set my feet down on the floor and stood. "I'm going to quickly freshen up. Please don't go, Cole." I left the room and his conflicted inner turmoil to head to the bathroom for a quick three minute shower and a thorough brushing of my teeth. I wrapped a towel around me and hair dripping down my back, headed back to my bedroom. He was still there, sat on the bed. I smiled, pleased. "Should I get dressed?"

"I don't want you to think I'm using you for sex." He began unsurely, hesitant.

"I don't think that," I said, standing in front of him and dropping the towel to puddle at the floor at my feet. My thumb grazed against his bottom lip and then my arm fell by my side. "I like the sex, too. I love being intimate with you. We don't have to feel guilty just because the day is over."

"No, I can't," he stood up, shaking his head, trying to do what he believed was right. "We can't reuse old habits. I won't do that to you. Your coffee is getting cold. Get dressed. Eat. I need to go home. I'll see you later."

Disappointment flooded me as he abruptly left without a hug or a kiss goodbye. Moments later and he was back in the room, he strode up to me, cupping my face. "Fuck it. I want to spend every moment I have with you. I can't stay away from you. I'm selfish. I'm sorry," he kissed me deeply and butterflies fluttered in my stomach. He pulled away and mouth bruised red, he murmured with a sinful smile, "I'm actually not that sorry. I'm going to fuck you and I'm going to make love you. You're not going to be able to walk this afternoon. And then we'll start again tomorrow. See how it goes."

"I don't need to walk if I'm going to be in bed with you all day."

He laughed, pushing me so my back hit the mattress and he got on top, pulling his sweatshirt over his head and tossing it to the side. "That's very true," he pinned my arms above my head and kissed me on the mouth. He paused, remembering. "We should find time to get the dog, too."

"I'll put it on my to-do list right after you fuck me senseless."

***