I wince at Easton in apology and stalk for the door, yanking it open enough for Cole to see me and nothing else.
I’m poised to yell at him. To rail and curse, but the sight of arrogance personified standing suave and sophisticated in my hall is enough to steal my voice. The dark and devilish hair. The predatory blue eyes. The perfectly chiseled jaw.
“Nice to see you again, little fox.”
My blood surges, the anger and animosity colliding. The unwanted attraction, too.
I glare. “What the hell are you doing here?”
His mouth kicks in a cocky grin. It’s so subtle. The finest tweak of gorgeous lips.
It’s enough to make me gush with intolerable amounts of desire.
Fuck him.
Seriously, fuck him and his hypnotic appeal. I don’t know what it is about this man that flicks all my switches, but once I figure it out, I’m shutting down that fuse box.
“I tried calling you. And I know you got at least the first of my texts.” He shrugs. “Then I’m assuming you turned your phone off.”
I scoot closer, holding the door handle behind me as I lower my voice. “If you’ve bugged my apartment, I swear to God—”
“I haven’t bugged your apartment.” He smirks. “Come on, Nis, what do you take me for? Would a man like me really corrupt your privacy like that?”
He corrupts everything. Every heartbeat. Every thought.
“You can’t do this,” I hiss. “You can’t just come here and—”
He steps forward, bridging the space between us, making me snap ramrod straight.
I won’t backtrack. I can’t.
I’m not going to let him win.
“I just want to talk.” He stares down at me, those devilish, ocean eyes focused on my mouth.
I swallow, already feeling his lips against mine. The buzz I’d wanted with Easton is right here, without a touch, without movement. The lust is suffocating.
“Let me in.” He reaches for the door.
“No. You can say whatever you need right here.”
His smirk increases, mirth dancing in his eyes as he leans a little closer. “It’s not fit for public consumption. We need privacy.”
Just the thought of being alone with him, in a confined space, is enough to make my nipples tingle. Harden.
I swallow over the desert taking hold in my throat and stand my ground. “Leave.”
Another snicker brushes my ears as he takes one more step, walking into me as he pushes the door wide open.
Shit.
I want to grab him. To stop his momentum.
But touch isn’t an option.
If I snatch for him I’m not sure I’ll ever let go.
He strides past me as I tense, waiting for the eruption of male testosterone that never eventuates. Easton isn’t in sight. He’s not in the kitchen or the tiny living area. He’s gone. There’s only me and Cole, and the realization that my bedroom door is now slightly ajar.
“I’m serious,” I warn. “You can’t be in here.”
What if he mentions Greece? What if he talks about our affair? Or what I did to his father?
My fucking life will never be the same if Easton overhears.
“Having a party?” Cole stops a few feet away, his attention scanning over the mess—the beer bottles, the empty pizza box, the television with its action-packed movie. He turns to face me, one brow raised. “It looks like I interrupted a good time.”
“Every day is a party when I don’t have to deal with you.”
He beams a player smile. White, perfect teeth. Dark, devilish eyes. He knows he’s under my skin, and he fucking loves it.
Asshole.
He licks his lower lip and lazily strolls toward me. “Admit you miss me.”
My eyes flare. “What’s to miss? You’re nothing but a pain in my ass.”
He chuckles, not stopping his approach, not even once he reaches my hyper-sensitive personal space. I’m forced to retreat. One step. Two. Until my butt hits the door, knocking it shut.
“That’s not how I remember our time together.” He closes in, caging me with his presence like the most powerful predator.
I’m rendered speechless, my pulse sky-rocketing, my limbs trembling.
How can he control me like this? How can he snatch my common sense and leave me defenseless?
“Something is different about you?” He scrutinizes me. “You’re flushed.”
“And I bet you think you’re responsible.”
“No.” His gaze hardens. “Your cheeks were already pink when you answered the door. Why?”
I should admit the truth. I need to end this crazy thing we have going on and simply tell him I was with Easton. But the words refuse to make themselves heard over the rush of intoxicating warmth.
“What do you need to tell me?” I swallow, squaring my shoulders. “Hurry up and spit it out so I can go to bed.”
That vulturous gaze studies me for long moments before he relaxes into his normal sense of superiority. “You need to lay low for a while. At least a few days. Don’t leave your apartment. Don’t even cross the street for coffee.”
Each demand makes me balk. Not only due to the underlying threat, but because he arrogantly thinks I’ll comply.
“I’ll have men watching the building,” he continues. “However, it’s best if—”
“Whoa.” I hold up a hand. “For starters, you will not have your men watch me. And second, I know how to take care of myself. I’m a goddamn FBI agent, Cole.”
“How could I forget?” His expression tightens.
“What’s this about?” I hike my chin, matching him stare for stare. “Why do you want me to hide?”
“You don’t need the details. Just lay low. It’s only for a few days.”
“You can’t barge in here and demand I put my life on hold for no reason.” I scowl. “Who do you think you are?”
I’m gifted with another one of those subtle, taunting snickers. He inches closer, getting in my face, the heat of his breath brushing my lips. “You know exactly who I am.”
My pulse detonates. My inhales transform into teeny, tiny gasps.
I want him. God, how I want to bite and claw this man out of my system, right on my carpeted floor. Our clothes strewn. Our bodies covered in sweat.
What I wouldn’t give to feel his heavy chest pressed down on mine. His lips on my flesh. His cock—
Fuck.
“Why?” I snap, my attention flicking to my bedroom door in guilt before trekking straight back to the wall of dominance before me.
He sighs, his superiority fading under the weight of something heavier. “I need you to trust me.”
Trust? Something seriously sinister must be happening if he’s asking for such a prize.
“Tell me.” My fingers itch to reach out. To physically demand answers and sate my need to touch him.
His jaw ticks, an internal battle coming into view behind those eyes. “Robert might still be alive.”
All the air leaves my lungs on a heave.
Robert.
The same Robert who humiliated me. Beat me. Threatened to kill me.
I’ve worked hard to suppress the memories of that monster. I did everything in my power to pretend those moments didn’t exist. Now they all come rushing back in a wealth of icy goose bumps.