I could hear him in there, rummaging around.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

But he didn’t answer.

When he returned, he began looking around the room, opening drawers, his hands moving through the dresser, checking everything.

“What the hell are you doing?” I asked again.

“Making sure there’s nothing in here you can hurt yourself with.”

He turned around and held his hand out.  “Give me your bag.”

“No.”

“Give it to me, Olivia.”

“There’s nothing in there,” I said.  “You took my razors at the club.”

“I want to check again.”

I picked it up and thrust it at him.  “Go ahead,” I said.  “Knock yourself out.”

He rummaged through my things.  There wasn’t much there.  He handed my bag back to me.

“Satisfied?” I asked.

The side of his mouth slid up into a grin and he let his eyes rake over my body.  I was suddenly aware of the fact that I wasn’t wearing a bra, and that the shorts I was wearing, while my size, were a little too short, and hardly covered my ass.

My nipples hardened, and I could feel them poking against the sheer fabric

I liked the way he was looking at me, liked the fact that he was staring at my body and not even trying to hide it.

Kiss me.

I crossed my arms over my chest.

“Nothing I haven’t seen before, Princess,” Colt drawled.

“You’re an ass.”

“Eat,” he said.  “And go to sleep.”  He turned to head for the door.

“Wait,” I said, and he turned around.

“Yeah?”

“What about… “  I licked my lips nervously.  “Declan.  Can you tell me where he is, give me his number or his email, whatever you found?”

“In the morning, Princess,” Cold said, his voice low.  “You’ve had a long day.”

“Please,” I said.

Colt sighed.  “Olivia,” he said.  “You…” I felt like he wanted to say more, maybe about Declan, but then he thought better of it.  “In the morning,” he said.  “Eat.  And go to sleep.”

And then he was gone, the door shutting behind him, leaving me alone.

I settled into bed, and picked up the stir-fry he’d made me.

It tasted just as delicious as it smelled, and I ate the whole plate hungrily.

I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.

This time, there were no bad dreams.

There were no dreams at all, just the sweet relief of a deep sleep.

And when I woke up, for the first time in as long as I could remember, my first thought wasn’t Declan.

It was Colt.

**

I blinked in the sunlight that was streaming through the slats in the blinds, casting stripes of light across the comforter.

The apartment was silent—Colt must have still been sleeping. It made sense.  He probably stayed up all night partying and then slept all day.

I brushed my teeth and hair, then pulled on a pair of jeans and a grey sweater made of a lightweight material that felt soft against my skin.  I felt bad for Kendra, being Colt’s assistant, but I had to admit the girl had good taste, whoever she was.

I set out to the kitchen in search of coffee.

I was standing in front of Colt’s fancy-looking coffeemaker, trying to figure out how to use it, when the front door opened and Colt came walking in.

He was wearing a black t-shirt and gym shorts, his hair slightly damp with sweat, the bottom curling and sticking to his neck.

“Good morning, Princess,” he said, reaching past me into the refrigerator and pulling out a bottle of water.  He took a long sip and then held it out to me.  “Thirsty?”

I shook my head.  “No, thanks.”  I was thirsty, but there was no way I was going to share a water bottle with him.  Something about it seemed way too intimate.

Colt shrugged, then downed another long sip.

“I thought you were sleeping,” I said, in case he thought I was prowling around his house all on my own.

“I was at the gym.”  He reached down and grabbed the bottom of his sweaty shirt and pulled it off his body in one fluid movement.

Holy shit.  Heat flooded my body as I tried not stare.   His body was just so perfect that every time I saw it, it left me breathless .  His torso was defined and ripped, his six-pack seemingly chiseled out of granite.  A thin sheen of sweat clung to his skin, making him glisten.  I remembered the feel of his body on top of mine, the way it had felt to run my fingers over every ridge of his abs.  I looked away, but I was almost positive he caught me blushing.

“So are we going to work or what?”  I asked, annoyed.

He smiled and took another long pull off the water bottle.  “You seem a little feisty this morning, Princess,” he said.

“I’m not feisty.”

“Edgy.”

“I’m not edgy.”

“Cranky.”

“I’m not – “ I started, and then I realized he was just giving me a constant stream of adjectives in order to annoy me.

“Can you please let me know what time we’re leaving?” I said.

“I’m going to shower and then we’ll go.”  A mental picture of him in the shower, water sliding down over his ripped body flooded my mind.  But he made no effort to move, instead just leaning against the fridge, his bicep flexing.  I was leaning back against the counter, and I wanted to take a step away from him, but I couldn’t.  I didn’t want him to know he was having that kind of effect on me.

He was so close I swore I could feel the heat coming off his body.

He placed his water bottle back inside the fridge, then he reached for my hand, and for a second, I thought he was going to pull me toward him and kiss me.

But he slid the sleeve of my sweater up and looked at my wrists.

He ran his hand over the tape, making sure it was still held tight.

“It hurt?” he asked, his voice softening.

“No,” I said.  “Well, yes.  A little.”

He looked up at me, his eyes filled with concern.  He shook his head.  “Olivia,” he said, and the way he said my name, with worry and what I thought (hoped?) was longing, sent butterflies fluttering around my stomach.  “Promise me you’ll stop.”

I shook my head.  “I can’t… I can’t promise that.”

“You will.”

“I just told you, I can’t.”  I went to pull my hand away from his, but he held onto it tight.  He effectively had me trapped, my back up against the counter, him standing in front of me, holding my hands.  His hair fell over his forehead messily, and the stubble that was on his face last night was just a little darker this morning.  He licked his bottom lip, like he was contemplating what to do next.

I wanted his tongue in my mouth.

Wetness flooded my center.

“Promise me,” he said, taking another step forward and whispering it in my ear.  His breath tickled the sensitive spot on the side of my neck.

“I can’t,” I repeated, but he was starting to make my knees feel weak.  For a brief moment, I thought maybe he would be able to make me promise.  I felt like if he would just kiss me, if he would just do something to me, I would do whatever he said.

“If you promise,” he said, and his hands intertwined with mine, his thumbs moving over my knuckles.  “I’ll give you something you want.”

I froze, every single nerve ending in my body on high alert.  Everything flooded into sharp focus, every sense suddenly heightened.  I could smell Colt’s scent, Axe deodorant with just the faintest trace of sweat, could feel his body heat through my thin sweater, could see the tiny scar on the top of his lip that didn’t diminish even one ounce of his attractiveness and instead just served to accentuate his smoldering bad boy look.

Time seemed to stop as I waited for him to speak, to move, to decide what was going to happen.

“Don’t you want to know what it is, Princess?” He was still whispering huskily into my ear, his breath brushing deliciously against my skin.

I nodded.

I didn’t trust myself to speak.  My heart was throbbing so fast and hard in my chest and he was standing so close to me that I was sure he was going to be able to hear it, to feel it, betraying the effect he was having on my body.