Chapter Seven
Madison
Fingers whispered over my skin. I smiled, turning sleepily into arms that had stayed wrapped around me all night.
All night.
The first hint of storm clouds nudged my conscience.
Please. Don’t let it be morning.
But, even with my eyes closed, I could see the light seeping beneath my eyelashes…letting reality in.
Logan.
My mother.
Oh god. Before I could stop them, recriminations came calling and my eyelids flickered. If my mother could see me now…I imagined her lips puckered in disappointment. Years of being told how to act, who to talk to, and what to say had flown out the window last night.
Now it was over and I was supposed to pretend like it hadn’t happened? I’d never participated in a one-night-stand—although my night with Cole could hardly be called that. More like a one night, all night stand, sit, lie, lick, suck and fuck fest.
A giggle bubbled in my throat as the words tumbled through my brain. Words Cole had whispered as he’d covered every inch of my skin with his tongue, filled me with the hardness of his cock until I screamed.
I swallowed. My throat was still raw. I’d never known half of the things he had done to me could be done.
And my mother would never accept that as a good enough reason to act like a slut.
Oh, shit. I leapt out of bed like a scalded cat. Lunch today.
Spinning around, I found Cole watching me, a lazy smile on his face. I tried not to notice how good he looked. His hair was mussed into a tangle of blond locks, his hooded half-stare waking up my hormones with a happy good morning. Sensuality practically sizzled off the bed sheets, begging me to crawl back in there with him. He was, in a word, magnificent.
I ripped my gaze away, guilt making it hard to keep drinking in his wanton stare. I’d promised myself one night and that night was over.
“I’d ask if you have any regrets, but I see you’ve found plenty.” Cole lifted himself up on one elbow with a grimace.
My frown deepened. “No. No regrets.” I wasn’t ashamed of what had happened last night. It hadn’t been just about sex. More of an awakening. I’d given everything, things I hadn’t even known about myself. One reckless night to be someone else.
I blushed as scenes flashed back, reminding me how far I’d gone. Touching myself in front of him, riding his cock, being pounded in front of the mirror, head thrown back while I screamed his name…
Had I really done all of those things?
“Yes. Regrets.” He arched a brow, his stare lingering on my cheeks as they heated.
I looked away. “No. I just have things to do.” I checked the time on the bedside clock and let out a gasp. “You really have to go,” I urged, my ribs squeezing tight as something close to panic filled my chest.
I didn’t have time to hustle him out. I launched into a frenzy of activity, throwing open the curtains, scooping up discarded bits of clothing. Not that I could wear any of them. One didn’t visit Patricia St. James in second-day clothes—especially ones involved in last night’s debauchery.
“Why?” Cole still hadn’t budged from his spot on the bed, despite the fact I needed him gone. Like, five minutes ago.
I scowled harder. “I’m meeting my mother for lunch.” I flung his pants at his head, trying to impress on him the urgency of the situation.
Cole relaxed, his mouth curving into a sexy grin. “Plenty of time.” He patted the bed. “It’s only nine thirty.”
“I know!” I almost screeched. It took that much time to build up my outer layers, a thick impenetrable wall of charm and perfection to pass my mother’s critical eye. “I mean, look at me.” I shuddered in disgust at my reflection, already imagining the acerbic tone my mother would employ. “My hair is a complete rat’s nest. I have streaks of make-up left from last night and I really need to iron my trouser suit. That alone will take me half an hour.”
And I still needed time to calm myself. My nerves churned with the thought of having to explain to my mother about Logan. The sick feeling in my stomach intensified and I wrapped my arms about my chest.
Cole looked like he could burst out laughing at any second. I should be yelling at him to leave, but the smoldering look as he ran an assessing eye over my body caused me to falter.
“You are fucktastic just as you are,” he grinned. “I like that look. A lot.”
His sexy tone lured me closer, almost within touching distance of the bed. Cole flexed his shoulders, lifting his arms into a lithe stretch that highlighted every ridge of hard muscle. Oh, and there was a lot of sexy him. A few more inches and I could get my hands on the sleek heat of his skin.
I stopped. Wow. How had he done that? With only a few words Cole had turned back the clock and we were still lovers, lusting after each other like there was no tomorrow.
And there was no tomorrow, I told myself firmly.
“I’m sorry.”
I turned, unable to face his disappointment any longer. The bedsheets rustled, then came the thud of feet as Cole got out of bed. Got dressed. A sharp pang pierced below my breast and I rubbed at the spot self-consciously.
“It’s just… You don’t know my mother.” The words dropped out before I could stop them. My excuse sounded lame, even to me.
“I bet I do. In fact, I guarantee I know exactly what your mother is like. Just like I know about the real you and how you live in a world where the outer façade is everything. It’s all about what everyone else sees on the outside, isn’t it? Last night you told me you wanted something real.” He stared at me pitilessly. “You enjoyed it. But not enough to give up the pretense.”
The derision in his voice was ice crawling through my veins, each word delivered like a blow. I endured each hammer fall, my anger rising. Cole knew nothing of my life. He had no idea what I had done to get here. And with my mother and my break-up with Logan riding on my shoulders, I didn’t have time to waste on his blinkered views.
“Yes. You’re right.” I confronted him with a bitter laugh, surprised I could speak past the clawing ache in my chest. “Why should I give up the pretense? It’s what attracted you, isn’t it, when you picked me up last night? You were out hunting for a rich lay.”
Cole’s lips tightened, but he didn’t refute my accusation.
I was sickened by the truth. “So, why bother hanging around?” I mocked. “What? Are you disappointed I didn’t leave you a tip?”
I made a show of grabbing for my bag and rifling through for my wallet. I almost missed the flash of dark regret in Cole’s eyes as his expression closed in.
“I wouldn’t touch your money.” Disgust laced his voice. “This was a mistake. One I won’t be making again.”
I could do nothing but watch him go. If I’d had time, I might have cried, but the thought of lunch with my mother drove me on. I rushed around the room, pushing through the routines that would cover the cracks in my disintegrating life.
And Cole was wrong, I thought, ruthlessly scrubbing the scent of his body from mine in the shower. It wasn’t my pretense I lived with every day.
It was my mother’s.
I was the mark Patricia St. James measured herself by. And she had very exacting standards.