Assured (Soul Serenade #2) (17 page)

Sweet Cole.

Fuck me, that’s the first time a woman other than my sister or mom has ever referred to me as ‘sweet.” Well, Logan, but she’s just like my sister.

Sweet Cole.
I let those words bounce around in my head.

I don’t know what exactly she constitutes as “sweet.” It’s not like I’ve been all romantic and shit with her. I’m just being me—well, me when I’m thinking about something other than sliding between her thighs. It’s been . . . fun, much to my surprise. This hanging out and getting to know someone isn’t as bad as I would have thought.

“Sweet?” I finally ask.

“Yeah, you’re not all ‘I can’t wait to feel you’ and all that other game you have going on.”

“Game?” I laugh.

“Yes, game. You’re a player, Cole. It’s kind of like a game of Monopoly. You roll the dice and land on a property. You take full advantage, but you’re itching for your next turn, to roll the dice again and see where you land.”

Monopoly? “I don’t play games, Stacy. Yes, I’ve slept with a lot of women, but I never lead them on. I never go into the night with them thinking it’s going to be more than what it is—just fucking. That’s it. If they romanticize that they can change me, that’s on them. I’m always open and up-front with them.”

“I believe you. You’ve always been honest that you want to sleep with me, I get that. But these last few weeks, you’ve toned that down.” I watch as she averts her gaze before continuing. “I just figured that you had lost interest.”

Lost interest? Has she lost her damn mind?
Reaching out, I caress her cheek. “Definitely still interested.” I trace her lips with my thumb.

I watch as she closes her eyes and relaxes into my touch. She wants me too. It’s written all over her face.

Finally, she opens her eyes, and I can see the war waging in them. She feels this connection too, but she’s fighting it. I know she said she wants more. If she would just give this a chance, it would be a night that I can guarantee neither one of us would ever forget.

Leaning back, she breaks contact. “What’s next?”

I stand to gather our trash. “I thought we could just walk around and see if anything interests us.”

She nods and stands from her seat. I quickly throw away our trash and reach for her hand. Surprisingly, she doesn’t pull away. I’ll take every damn chance I can to get my hands on her.

“So, no longer a food truck virgin,” I say, trying to get that easy banter back between us. I peek over at her and she’s blushing. That’s sexy as fuck.

“It was good. I don’t know why I was skeptical.”

Pulling our combined hands to my lips, I kiss her knuckles. “I’ll never steer you wrong, sweets.” Letting our hands fall back between us, I survey the area, looking for something for us to get into. That’s when I see it.

“Stacy, you ever ridden go-karts?”

She grins. “Yeah, but it’s been years.”

Her grin is infectious, and I suddenly feel like a damn teenager. I lead us to the storefront and purchase two all-day passes.

“All day?” she asks.

“Yeah, you can’t ride just once, and standing in line each time for a ticket just wastes time.”

“What if we only ride twice?”

I give her the “you know better than that” look.

She grins.

“Now, which ones do you want to ride first?”

“The fastest.”

Her answer surprises me. “Really?”

“Uh, yeah. I’m about to kick your ass, Hampton.”

This girl.

“You think so?” I try to hide my grin, I really do, but it’s impossible when I see hers shining back at me.

“Oh, yeah, I got this.” She hip-checks me and takes off toward the line.

I stand frozen for a few minutes, just watching her. I can’t ever remember having a better time with a woman. I would rather have lunch with her and that smile than sex with a random any day.

WHOA! What the fuck am I thinking?
I shake off the thought and search for her in the crowd. I spot her standing at the gate, underneath a sign claiming that particular track is the fastest in the complex. Her hands are on her hips and she’s tapping her foot, watching me.

Waiting for me.

There is something, a feeling deep in the pit of my gut that I’ve never felt before. My feet move toward her; suddenly, nothing matters but being next to her. When I reach her, I snake an arm around her waist and pull her in to my chest, kissing the top of her head. She hesitates for a few seconds before sliding her arms around my waist.

She let’s me hold her.

Something I’ve never wanted to do.

Unexpectedly, it’s
all
I want to do.

With her.

Only her.

She pulls away and I fight the urge to groan in protest. Looking up at me with those big green eyes, I don’t know if she’s about to ask questions, or if she’s just trying to figure out what the hell is happening, but I don’t give her time to do either. Instead, I lean down and place a soft, tender kiss on her lips.

That’s another first for me. There was never a reason to show tenderness or emotion. Hell, with half the women I’ve been with, my lips didn’t get close to them.

I slide my fingers between hers and lead us to the line. Taking our places, I lean against the fence and pull her back into my arms. This time, it has nothing to do with convincing her to spend the night in my bed and everything to do with her.

Just her.

Another shift. Not sure what it is, but everything is once again . . . different. He’s holding me in his arms like I’m his. I know I should protest, pull away, but the feeling is like none other, so I’m going to roll with it. Give myself today to bask in the illusion that this is real. That he doesn’t want anyone but me.

It’s wrong on so many levels. I’ve never been one who can detach my feelings, but I will deal with the consequences. In this moment, I feel . . . cherished.

As we move up in the line, his hands never leave me. He’s either holding my hand, my hips, or his arm is slung over my shoulder.

And the kisses . . . he’s taking sweet Cole to a whole new level with the attention he’s raining down on me today.

A girl could get used to this.

“You ready, sweets?” he asks, lips next to my ear.

Peering up at him, he’s wearing a smile that seems to light up his face more often than not these past few weeks. “The question is, are you ready to get beat by a girl?” I fire back.

He throws his head back and laughs before releasing his hold on me to pull a hair tie from his wrist. I watch as he gathers his long locks and wraps it all up in a messy bun. Let me be clear, Cole Hampton can rock a man-bun. It’s not really been my thing up to this point. I’ve seen pictures all over my social media, and there are very few who capture my attention. Cole, though, he’s got it. He rocks it, and I can guarantee there are panties dropping everywhere when he does.

Hair contained, his hands rest on my hips as he pulls me in to him. Leaning down, he replies, “Bring it, baby.” His brown eyes are sparkling.

Lethal.

He turns me in his arms so I’m facing the track, and I see that it’s finally our turn to race. I sprint toward the front cart, knowing I’ll need every advantage I can get. It’s been years since I’ve been on one of these things. I don’t know where Cole is; I’m too focused on strapping myself in and getting comfortable in my seat. After the attendant checks my seat belt, I place my hands on the steering wheel, excitement coursing through me. I feel like a kid again.

Wheel gripped tight, my eyes stay glued to the light, one foot on the brake, the other poised over the throttle. I’m a woman on a mission.

Finally, the caution light pop’s up and it’s time to move. I race off the line and the attendant yells to “Slow down.” I know he’s yelling at me. I’m not supposed to dart out of the gate, but I’m excited and I really,
really
want to beat Cole. Bragging rights are a beautiful thing, especially when it’s against a man’s man like Cole. I can see him brooding over the loss already. The thought only fuels my excitement.

I drive as fast as I can without getting the stink eye and shaking fist from the attendant. I want to turn around and look for Cole, but I refuse to break my concentration.

As I come around the last corner, I see the green light and a teenage girl waving a plastic flag. Green means go.

Game on!

I punch the gas and hold on tight. The wind is whipping through my hair and laughter bubbles out of me. I take the next curve without lifting from the throttle and slide through the corner like I’m Danica Patrick. I can feel my face splitting with the grin I’m wearing. I’m having a blast, and it’s for me. Not to beat Cole, although that would be a bonus; right now, I’m just enjoying the moment.

Our group of racers must be good because we don’t have one caution. All fifteen laps, I keep the throttle matted to the floor and fly around corners, laughing and grinning like a fool. When the caution light comes on, I slow my kart and drive back into the lineup. I wait until we’re given the all clear to unbuckle my seat belt and climb out. My feet barely hit the pavement before I feel his strong arms lift me up.

“Hell yeah! You killed it out there!” He squeezes me tight before placing me back on my feet.

“You got beat by a girl,” I tease him.

I don’t get the response I expected. “Sweets, I’m six-foot-four and weigh 180 pounds. What are you, five-six and a buck ten? Your cart was lighter than mine,” he tries to rationalize my win. “Besides, I’m good with you beating me.”

That’s the part I didn’t expect. “Oh, yeah? And why is that, Mr. Hampton?”

His hand on the small of my back, he leads us away from the karts and through the exit gate, away from the mass of people. He stops next to a pillar, turning so he’s leaning against it. His hands wrap around my waist and he pulls me close.

I’m watching him, waiting for an answer. He tucks my crazy, windblown hair behind my ear, his eyes locked on mine. “You want to know why?” His voice is husky.

A nod is the only response I’m capable of.

He brings me closer, a feat I would have thought impossible, our bodies touching everywhere.

Soft vs. hard.

“I’m good with it because I get to take the winner home with me.” He smirks.

I slap my hands against his chest as we both lose ourselves to the laughter of his statement.

“I might be going home with you, as you say, but you won’t be reaping the rewards.”

His smile is still there, but his eyes show a different emotion altogether. One I can’t quite decipher. “The reward is being with you.”

My mouth drops open.

He kisses me on the forehead and releases me. “Now, which one do you want to ride next?”

Just like that. No big deal that I’m swooning in the middle of a damn go-kart track thing—whatever this place is. No big deal that he just made my heart skip a beat, that my plan to steel my emotions just flew out the damn window. No big deal that he’s chipping away at that wall I built, refusing myself intimacy with anyone who didn’t want more. No big deal that those six words just got him what he’s been after for months. It’s in this moment that I realize it’s always been inevitable. I’m going to let Cole Hampton give me what he assures will be the best night of my life. Then, I’m going to have to pick my heart up off the ground and act as though it’s no big deal.

How does one come back from that?

We spend the next three hours racing from track to track, acting like teenagers.

“I’m done,” I tell him. We just finished what feels like ride number fifty, and I’m exhausted and hungry.

“Hungry?” he asks.

It’s like he can read my mind. “Yes.”

“Starving,” he replies with a boyish grin. Holding his hand out for me, I don’t fight it, lacing my fingers through his. He leads us back to the sidewalk. “What sounds good?”

“Anything. I’m not a picky eater.”

He nods and we walk about a block before he stops and points to a pizza place. I smile, letting him know it sounds good to me. We spend the next hour eating and talking about random things that mean nothing but in this moment feel like everything.