Page 48 of Cole

I looked around at the other things on the desk. A coaster, a couple of business cards for motorcycle supply shops. I clearly sucked at investigating people. Maybe Emmit had been right all along. The gossip column was about my level. I had liked to think that I was smarter than that, tough and persistent. It was an ideal I’d held about myself ever since I’d been old enough to read about the adventures of Lois Lane. But reality never really turned out like your dreams… and it seemed that the whole MC exposé was slipping through my fingers. Honestly, I’d never really had a grip on it in the first place, but messing around with the president of the club was never going to end well.

I sighed heavily as I trailed my hand along the desk and turned around… then froze as soon as my eyes met his.

I was no longer alone.

Cole stood in the doorway, leaning against the doorjamb, arms folded across his broad chest, his dark blue eyes fixed on me. I ripped my hand from his desk, suddenly feeling like I’d been caught red-handed, despite not having been looking for anything this time.

“Don’t mind me, Goldilocks. I’d hate to interrupt your inspection. Did you need my laptop password? What else can I do to make my personal business easier to spy on, Isabelle?”

A lump stuck in my throat at his deep, mocking tone. I could make some excuse and turn tail and run away. He wouldn’t be able to stop me; the house was full of my friends, after all. I could call out and someone would come.

Or.

Or… I didn’t run away. The thought was electrifying. Curiosity and a thrilling sense of excitement filled my veins.

I swallowed that damn lump in my throat and brought my chin up, meeting Cole’s searching, dark look without hesitation.

“I was looking for the bathroom and got turned around,” I said steadily, and tossed my hair over my shoulder. “I see I was in the wrong room.”

I walked across the thick, plush area rug lining the floor and stopped when I reached the bedroom door. He didn’t move an inch to let me past.

“Were you?” he murmured, low as sin.

He dropped his eyes to my feet, and then up my jean-clad legs. A slow, leisurely inspection.

“I don’t think you’re in the wrong room at all. I think you’re right where you’re supposed to be, Isabelle.” He narrowed his eyes when he said my name a second time.

“I didn’t lie. Lots of people shorten Isabelle to Belle,” I said defensively.

Cole smirked. “Sure, they do, but you don’t usually, do you? Your little boyfriend downstairs calls you Isabelle.” He straightened up and sauntered closer. The room instantly felt smaller.

“My boyfriend?” I repeated. Who did he mean?

“Mm-hmm, the jock who was hanging on your every word.”

“Tyler?”

“Whoever. His name doesn’t matter… all that matters is that he stops disrespecting me in my own house.” Cole shrugged off his heavy leather cut and tossed it onto a chair. He had on a black T-shirt underneath, and it molded to every perfect muscle on his chest. I remembered it being an impressive sight, one I longed to see again. I’d seen his dick, tasted his cum, but I hadn’t even gotten to touch his bare chest. Suddenly, there was nothing else I could think about.

“How is he disrespecting you? Did he pee in the sink or something?” I asked, stepping back as Cole continued forward.

He smirked, and the look made my damn knees weak. He was blisteringly intense when he stared or glared, or generally looked around at the world. He rarely smiled, I realized at that moment. Had I seen it before? I didn’t think I had. It made me sad, somehow.

“He monopolized your attention. The most interesting woman here… that’s fucking rude. Everyone knows, the host gets first pick of the guests. That’s just the rules.”

“First pick of the guests? You have rules in place for these situations… do you host parties here often?” I babbled, imagining Cole picking out a woman at each party to bring upstairs.

He shook his head slowly. “This is the first party, and you’re the first guest I’ve ever picked. What’s wrong, Isabelle? Are you disappointed… do you want to go back downstairs to Tyler? Let him take you for dinner and a movie? A milkshake before he walks you home and kisses you on the cheek?”

Heat burned through me at the hot look in Cole’s eyes. I didn’t need to look down to know he was turned on. The energy overwhelmed the room. I was sweating.

“A milkshake? It’s not the 1950s. That’s not what college kids do on dates anymore. You are so old,” I teased him before I could question the wisdom of it.

His mouth twitched again and then he was chuckling. The sound only made me wetter. God, he was hot.

He grinned at me and shook his head, like he’d never encountered anyone so precious and amusing. It wasn’t a bad feeling at all. In fact, I really fucking liked it.

“It’s true. I don’t know what you young people do on dates… or any people, really. I don’t date. I’m not the kind of man who puts on a tie and takes you out to a fancy restaurant. I don’t live that way.”