Cole’s brows pull together, and he licks his lips. “So that explains the hot-and-cold thing you’ve been doing.”

“Partially.” I take a deep breath and feel my spirits sink a bit. “I also want something more for me—something real and tangible. Something that I can believe in and just . . . I don’t know. Rest, I guess, knowing it’ll be there tomorrow.”

But then you came along, and I still want those things . . . but I want you so much. I don’t know what to do.

“Palmer?”

“What?”

He smiles. “Don’t ever apologize for doing what you have to do for you or your son.”

My insides fill with a light and warmth—a sensation of being understood.

I didn’t need Cole’s validation. I know I’m doing what’s best for my family. But Cole is the first man to listen to what I have to say, to hear it, and then acknowledge it in a positive, thoughtful way.

It feels damn good.

“Thank you,” I say.

“What are you thanking me for?”

“For listening.”

“Well, thank you for opening up to me.” He looks at the plates on the floor. “And for the pizza.”

My gaze follows his to the stack of pizza crusts. I swing my legs over the side of the ottoman and bend down. At the same time, Cole moves to grab the plates off the floor.

We collide midair and fall into a heap next to the plates—Cole on his back and me halfway across him.

Our laughter breaks through the silence in the room.

The heat of his body radiates into mine. The movement of his chest as he laughs fills me with an energy that I needed.

I press a hand against his chest, his heart thumping beneath my palm, and start to press off him. But before I can, his hand wraps around my wrist.

My mouth goes dry as I peer down into his handsome face. Slowly, he raises up. Less slowly, I bend down.

A hundred million thoughts race through my mind. Some of them tell me to kiss him. Others scream not to. Another segment has me ripping my clothes off and straddling him in some kind of sexual-aggressor mode that I didn’t know I possessed.

Cole’s breath is hot as he grows closer. My heart beats so loud that I’m sure he can hear it. He’s right in front of my face when he stops, hovering just inches from me.

He blinks, his beautiful blue eyes as clear as the sky on a summer afternoon.

“Are you sure?” he whispers. “Because I’ve heard what you said, and I don’t want to put you into a situation that you don’t want to be in.”

Am I sure?