Consolation Prize (Forbidden Men Book 9) (13 page)

When I sank near, he mirrored me, shifting in as well. My eyelashes fluttered.

He drew in an audible breath, then said, “If you’re going to kiss me again, try not to mention my brother this time, okay?”

And bam. I was done.

Jerking backward, I gaped at him in horror. “You asshole.”

He shrugged as he slipped on his coat. “Hey, I was just setting ground rules. That was kind of a mood breaker for me the first time.”

I hugged myself, feeling humiliated and small. Unable to look him in the eye, I muttered, “Maybe you should just go.”

He nodded. “Yeah, maybe I should.”

But as soon as he turned away, a pounding came from the front of the apartment. When I heard the familiar muted shout of my ex, I grabbed Colton’s arm tight.

“Shit.”

He glanced at me, his eyes squinted as he listened to Shaun holler my name and claim he knew I was here. “Is that him?”

I nodded silently, my heart thumping a million miles per minute.

Colton turned as if to go confront him, but I latched on to his arm harder. “What’re you doing? Don’t go out there.”

“I’m going to tell him to leave you the hell alone.”

“No.” I wound my whole arm around his when he tried to break free. “It won’t work. I promise you. Seeing you will only piss him off more, and then it’ll be worse for me in the future. Please don’t make this worse for me.”

When he gaped at me as if I’d asked him to cut off his manhood, right at the penis, I begged more. “Colton, please. Think about this. What do you think confronting him will accomplish?”

“I think it’ll scare him off for good so you’d finally be free of him.”

“Armed with nothing but an apple core.” I sighed. “Yeah, I don’t think so, honey.”

“Hey, I could fling the apple in his face. It’d be super gross. He might just run off, screaming like a little bitch because I gave him my cooties. You never know.”

“You won’t scare him off,” I said dryly. “He’s bigger than you.”

He snorted as if that didn’t matter, but a second later, he paused and eyed me suspiciously. “How much bigger?”

“Like
twice
as big. And I can tell he’s been drinking. He’s not a pleasant drunk. If you do anything right now, this is just going to come back on me twice as hard later, so please—”

“Okay,
fine
!” he snapped, glowering. “I won’t do anything, but Jesus, I don’t like this. He shouldn’t be bothering you after two goddamn years. Hell, he should’ve stopped bothering you as soon as you divorced him.”

“It won’t last long, I swear. He barely sticks around five minutes these days.”

“Well, you shouldn’t have to deal with this. Not even five minutes of it.” His jaw popped as he glared down the hall. “I can’t believe you won’t let me take care of it.”

I began to stroke his arm. “Trust me, anything you did
wouldn’t
take care of it.”

“So you think,” he muttered, only to lift his attention when the hammering on my front door stopped abruptly.

“See,” I said with a sudden smile, waving out my hand. “He’s done already. Harassment over.”

“This is such bullshit,” he rumbled.

“It is,” I agreed, allowing him that. “But ignoring it works a hell of a lot better than feeding him attention whenever he comes knocking. Now that we’ve learned not to respond, he’s stopped bothering me almost completely now.”

The lifting of Colton’s eyebrow told me he was not impressed.

I kind of suddenly wanted to hug him. He had every reason to hate me right now. I’d treated him like crap the first nine months I’d known him, and the night I had finally begun to thaw, I’d mentioned his brother while his dick was literally in my hand. But despite the bitterness that was still evident in his treatment of me, he’d been protective from the very moment he’d figured out I was in distress. I couldn’t imagine a lot of guys would do that.

“So, anyway,” I murmured, clearing my throat and feeling my cheeks heat. I brushed my long bangs out of my eyes. “I won’t keep you any longer. Thanks for…well, everything.”

He just continued to stare at me as if he thought I was insane. “Right…” he said slowly. “Like I’m leaving you here alone after that just went down.”

His protectiveness made me want to just jump him with all kinds of melty, gooey nice emotions he’d instilled in me. But my independent nature rebelled and won out. “He’s gone now.” I pointed toward the exit, letting him know he should head that way, too. “There’s no reason for you to stay.”

“And you don’t think he’s loitering outside the building?”

I gulped. That would be bad. I didn’t want Shaun messing with Colton.

Seeing my hesitation, he nodded, coming to his own conclusion. “I’m staying.”

When I opened my mouth to argue, he held up a hand. “Relax. I’m not asking to share a pillow. I’ll camp out here on the couch until your roommates make it home.”

J
ULIANNA’S
C
HAPTER
|
13

T
he next morning, I woke up fifteen minutes before my alarm sounded. Sitting upright, I immediately checked my head scarf to make sure it hadn’t come off in the night, then I snapped my attention to the closed door of my room.

I knew he still couldn’t be out there. He’d said he would leave when my roommates came home, which made me bite my lip, wondering what Sasha and Tyla and possibly even their men had thought of that. I was already aware I would have a million questions to answer.

But I’d just be honest. I’d run into a classmate, and when I’d spotted Shaun in the crowd, I’d asked him to bring me home. Enough said. They’d totally understand.

Sure.

Things had been stilted and moody when I’d fetched him a blanket and pillow to sleep on. After he’d used the bathroom, I hadn’t checked on him again or even told him goodnight, which felt weird, but…I don’t know. The whole thing had been weird. Colton Gamble had crashed on my couch. I had no clue what to think of that.

The idea that he could even still be there—unlikely as it was—had me jittery and nervous, mostly because I didn’t know where I stood with him. I didn’t think he hated me completely. There’d been moments, some really strong, intense, amazing moments of non-hate. But I didn’t think he liked me either. His strife with me still made a very robust appearance. Frequently.

Most confusing of all, I wasn’t sure where he stood with
me
. I knew I didn’t hate him, yet liking him felt taboo. I just wanted all this friction to end, except I wasn’t sure if I wanted it to end in friendship (though I totally couldn’t picture myself being his friend) or with mutual dislike (which was an idea that only gave me an ulcer).

Too afraid to check the living room to see if he was still around, I hurried to the bathroom and rushed through my toiletries. After that, I returned to my room to finish dressing and fix my hair and face. When there was nothing left to do but see to my breakfast, I eyed the door of my room with distress.

I probably would’ve chickened out and stayed here all day, but something Colton had said to me last night echoed through my head. I was a fighter. I didn’t run and hide, especially from him.

Dammit, I could do this!

Squaring my shoulders, I left my room. But once in the hall, I tiptoed toward the opening of the living room, holding my breath the entire way. I wasn’t sure why—if he was here, I certainly didn’t want him to catch me lurking. And if he wasn’t...then this entire covert act was moot.

Realizing how weird I was being, I exhaled and straightened my spine, entering the living room at a normal pace, only to fall to a stop with my mouth hanging open.

Oh, yeah. He was most definitely still here, passed out on my couch like some kind of sun god. The jerk. And yes, I really had to call him a jerk right now. Anyone who looked that good while they were sleeping shouldn’t be allowed to be anything but a jerk. There had to be
some
kind of balance in the universe.

He wore nothing but blue jeans. His bare feet were draped over the end of one armrest while he nestled his cheek on the other end. I unwillingly felt a moment of kinship with him for taking off his socks—I hated wearing socks to bed—only to scowl that thought away when my gaze made it to his chest.

But really? A guy as slim as him should not have that defined of a chest, especially when he was sleeping and could in no way be flexing his muscles.

Jerk
.

Easing closer, I saw he was clutching his hand to his heart, but upon close inspection, I realized he was actually holding something. His keys? Well, maybe not a key, exactly, but something dangling from his keychain. Squinting, I shifted even closer still to see. It was some kind of tube thing; his fingers covered most of the can until I realized it was breath spray.

Rolling my eyes, I groaned. Dear Lord, he must really worry about bad morning breath if he slept clutching a bottle of breath spray.

Big ego much?

But then I noticed the other item hanging from his keychain and resting against the backs of his knuckles. He had an old, tattered and really cheesy rabbit’s foot.

It reminded me of my grandma Cicely. She followed all kinds of hoodoo traditions like whipping up homemade powders for healing and luck, and using animals’ body parts to attain success and power. She still hung blue bottles from trees outside her house to trap evil spirits in. And she hadn’t let me go off to college without a Bible and protective amulet.

Thinking of her while looking at him made all kinds of soft feelings bud inside me. But I nodded to combat those. We weren’t friends. He wasn’t here because he liked me; he was here to fulfill some civic duty toward all women.

Bolstered with that thought, I nudged one of his jean-clad shins with my bare toe. “Hey.”

The guy didn’t even stir.

So I repeated the action, speaking a little louder and nudging a little harder. “Hey!”

He jerked. “What!
Fuck
!” Eyes springing open, he panted out his shock until he could focus on me. Then he moaned out a sound of supreme disappointment and scowled before reclosing his eyes. “Jesus Christ, scare the shit out of me, why don’t you. What time is it?”

“Morning,” I said, having no clue. For once in my life, I hadn’t been checking the time every two minutes as I’d gotten ready for classes. I’d been too concerned to know if he was still here. “Why aren’t you wearing a shirt?”

I could see why he’d kept off the jacket and even removed the hoodie, but to strip all the layers? If he was just playing with me, I was going to be…

Well, honestly, I was pretty grateful. But I’d have to
act
pissed.

One of his eyes reopened to glare at me. I had to admit, it was impressive. I’d always thought glaring was exclusively a two-eyed thing, but he managed it perfectly with just that one.

“Hate sleeping in shirts,” he mumbled before grumbling out another sound and reluctantly sitting up to run his hand through his hair.

Damn, his hair looked fetching when it was messy first thing in the morning.

The jerk.

“Hate sleeping in pants too,” he added with a two-eyed scowl this time. “But I kept them on. For you. You’re welcome.”

I didn’t respond, crossing my arms over my chest as I stared down at him. “I can’t believe you really slept here the entire night.”

“Yeah.” He smacked his lips. “While your gush of appreciation over the fact that I put myself out there to make sure you stayed safe is endearing, do you have some orange juice or something? My mouth tastes like ass.”

I eyed his hand. “Says the guy who sleeps with a bottle of breath spray against his heart.”

He glanced down in surprise and opened his palm to look at the tiny bottle as if he hadn’t known it’d been there. Then he shrugged. “It’s empty.”

My eyebrows lifted. “Have you considered throwing it away and buying a
new
one?”

Colton’s gaze sprang to me before he blinked as if I’d suggested he throw out a lung instead. “It was a gift,” he finally answered, still staring with that insulted, scandalized gawk.

I wasn’t sure what to say to that. Who kept around an empty bottle of breath spray because it’d been a gift?

Probably someone really sentimental.

Realizing he was sentimental only chipped away at that wall I was trying to keep up between us. Dammit, I should not like this guy.

But then he went and stood up—the jerk—and holy God on Sunday. I swear, angels started singing and playing trumpets and harps and shit. I mean, fuck. His hair was perfectly messy. His chest was perfectly bare and gleaming. And his jeans, they slid down dangerously, riding perfectly low on his hips so that the waistband of his Jockey shorts showed.

I couldn’t help but remember what his cock had looked like when I’d ripped down his tuxedo pants and pulled his hard, throbbing member into my hand. I think my pussy freaking wept with joy, thinking she’d get to feel that inside her.

And then I’d ruined everything.

Clearing my throat, I folded my arms over my chest to hide my hard nipples. “Yeah, I think we can get you something to drink.”

Turning on my heel, I scurried toward the kitchen only to hear him fall into step behind me. The hairs on the back of my neck rose, knowing he was following me. Was he watching me walk, focusing on my ass, remembering what it had felt like in his hands when he’d picked me up and set me on that table?

“Ooh, coffee.” Surging past me, he darted straight to the pot that had been set to automatically start brewing five minutes earlier.

Right. So he had
not
been checking out my ass. I was fine with that.

With maybe a side of completely devastated.

I mean, seriously, coffee was not supposed to trump my ass. What the hell was wrong with my ass that he didn’t even rate it a single glance?

Moaning dramatically, Colton paused next to the brewing pot and closed his eyes as he inhaled.

My girly parts liked the way he appreciated coffee. And yet my emotions were still crushed over the way he hadn’t checked me out. So I had to scowl to counterbalance. Tightening my arms over my chest, I sniffed. “I thought you said you wanted OJ.”

“That was before I knew there was coffee.” He opened a cabinet, frowning, and shut it, only to open another.

“What the hell are you looking for?” I demanded. I wasn’t sure how I felt about him going through my cabinets. It seemed so personal as if he were browsing through my underwear drawer. Actually, I was probably just upset because he
didn’t
seem to want anything to do with my underwear drawer. The jerk.

“A mug. To hold my coffee.” He arched me a dry glance. “Unless you don’t mind me drinking straight from the pot.”

I ground my teeth. “Try the doors directly above the coffee machine.”

He did. “Ah. Practical.” Taking down my favorite to-go mug, he poured himself a liberal amount, making me worry there might not be any left for me once he was done. Then he glanced around before spotting the sugar bowl. He helped himself to two cubes before blowing on the surface and taking a tentative sip.

I might possibly have focused a bit too intently on his mouth while he did all that. But damn, the boy knew how to make drinking coffee look completely fucking sensual.

Then he had to go and close his eyes and hum out his delight as he tipped his head back to show off the way his throat worked through that first swallow.

And I suddenly needed to go change my panties.

I opened my mouth to say…I don’t even know. But I wanted to say something—anything—so he’d transfer all that delight my way.

Tyla, however, interrupted the moment, bouncing into the kitchen and looking eager and curious.

“Hey, who was the half-naked white guy passed out on our couch last night?” she blurted, only to slam to a halt, her eyes widening to the size of saucers when she saw Colton leaning against the kitchen cabinets and sipping his coffee.

He waved congenially. “Same half-naked white guy stealing your coffee this morning.” His gaze skimmed over her, and I wasn’t sure if I liked watching him check out another woman, especially one of my roommates. “Nice PJs,” he murmured appreciatively.

Tyla slapped her hands over the Marvel boy shorts she was wearing. They were really only her underwear and not actual shorts, so I guessed the warning glare she shot in my direction was for me to keep my mouth shut and not broadcast that to him. At least she was wearing a white camisole with them, which was more than she sometimes wore around the apartment in the mornings.

“Colton Gamble,” he said, introducing himself as he pushed away from the counter to step forward and lift his hand for a shake. “And you are…?”

“
Colton
Gamble?” she repeated dumbly, turning her attention sharply to me.

“Hey.” He grinned out his surprise. “We have the same name. Cool.”

She blinked, discombobulated by his strange wit first thing in the morning. Gaping at him another second, she returned her attention to me. “Who the fuck is
Colton
Gamble?”