My mouth goes dry, both from his words and the heat in his gaze. I can feel my heart pound, pulsing blood through my veins at a tempo that probably isn’t conducive to staying upright.

My resolve weakens to the point that it breaks altogether. I’ve made the choice to be with men far less tempting or deserving many times before. So why not Cole?

I know the answer. It’s because he’s dangerous.

While that might be true, I’m in control of this relationship or situation or whatever it is between us. Unlike with Jared or Charlie, I’m not going into this with any hopes or dreams. There are no promises—only the guarantee that he’s not going to be around forever. That’s a fact. It’s on the table. I already know how this ends.

And while this ending would be a terrible movie, it does make it easier.

I just won’t get my emotions involved, and it’ll be fine.

I’m tired of fighting this. There’s no false pretenses. I can trust myself . . .

I hold my phone in my palm. And turn it off.

A slow, sexy smile splits his cheeks as I toss the device onto the sofa.

“Is that your way of saying you want me too?” he asks, grinning.

“No.” I smile. “That was my way of saying I need you. Right now.”

He grins. “Are you sure?”

“Well, I mean, I said ‘right now.’”

The words are barely out of my mouth before his lips find mine.

The contact disintegrates the invisible barrier between us. It’s as if the red flags I initially saw in him have all switched to green, and now we’re racing toward the checkered flag waving in the distance.

Cole cups the back of my head. His fingers lace through my hair, and he holds me still so he can kiss me.

His mouth moves against mine with a lazy thoroughness that drives me crazy. I part my lips. His tongue doesn’t miss a beat, tangling with mine as my hands curl around his neck. He walks me back two steps until my back hits the wall. A giant basket filled with fake flowers hits my shoulder and then topples to the floor.

I pull away, laughing. He buries his face into the crook of my neck and sweeps me off my feet—literally.

“The flowers!” I say, pointing to the chaos on the floor as he carries me through the room. My legs dangle over one of his arms. The other arm supports my back.

“What about them?” The words are pressed into the space just below my ear. “Fuck the flowers.”

I laugh again, dizzy with the endorphins flooding my brain.

He hums against my lips as we head toward a set of stairs. The vibrations carry through my body and pool in my core.