Fall Into You (Morally Gray Book 2)
Fall Into You: Chapter 7

This is so not my style, I might have unknowingly been taken over by one of those sex-obsessed aliens Angel was talking about.

Also, I know it’s perverse, but there’s a part of me that’s really enjoying how uncomfortable this conversation is making Cole.

That he’s used to being the one in control is obvious.

That he wants me is also obvious.

What’s not obvious is why he’s holding back. There’s got to be more to it than he’s trying to keep me from making a mistake.

No man is that unselfish. Not when no-strings sex is involved.

He says, “No, it wasn’t a yes. And stop looking at me like I’ve got a hidden motive. It’s very simple: I think you’d regret it.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“You’re emotionally vulnerable. You’ve had a few drinks. Those things never mix well.”

Okay, maybe he is unselfish. Better test him to be sure. “What I’m hearing is that you just don’t have the courage to tell me you’ve got an STD, and it’s flaring.”

He closes his eyes, grits his teeth, and draws a slow, aggravated breath.

Into his bristling silence, I say, “Cole. Please look at me. I want to say something, but I want you to be looking at me when I do.”

When he turns his gaze on me, the air ripples from the heat of it.

My pulse flutters. My mouth goes dry. I have to swallow before I can speak. “Will you please get us a room in this hotel? I would very much like to take this girthy beast under your zipper out for a ride.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, woman,” he mutters, glaring at me in outrage.

“You’re the one who put my hand on your dick. We’re way past the polite chitchat stage.”

He takes my hand off the bulge in his trousers and places it firmly onto my lap.

“Cole, will you—”

“Don’t fucking ask again,” he cuts in, his voice dark.

“Will you please get us a room in this hotel?”

“This is a game to you. Is that it? See how far you can push me before I lose my shit?”

He’s starting to look really angry. I have no idea why, but that gets me even more excited. Chet was never this exciting. He was too busy preening in front of a mirror.

“No. I’m not playing games. I’m dead serious. Here, I’ll prove it to you.”

I lean in to kiss him, but he blocks me by grasping my jaw in his hand and holding my face inches from his.

His eyes blaze. His nostrils flare. Every inch of him bristles. He wants to kiss me so badly, his hands shake. But he won’t let himself do it. He holds himself back with the kind of self-control that would be deeply impressive if it weren’t interfering with me getting what I want.

I’ve never seen a more thrilling specimen of masculinity in my life.

It’s probably all his red flags that are making me so hot. Maybe he’s right about the romance novels.

I say, “It’s not the drinks. It’s not the breakup. It’s not that the batteries in my vibrator died. It’s that you’re protective of me. You want to protect me, and you’re trying to deny yourself something you want because of it. I replace that extremely sexy.”

When he only stares at me in that hot, angry, unblinking silence, I add, “I’d love to watch all this careful control of yours unravel.”

“You don’t even know my last name!”

“You don’t know mine either.”

“I could be abusive. I could be a psychopath!”

“We both know you’re not.”

“But I could be.”

“Just kiss me already. People are staring.”

“Let them fucking stare.”

“Don’t make me beg. This is embarrassing.”

His eyes glitter dangerously. His laugh is low and hard. “You’re not embarrassed in the least.”

“I was earlier. Now I’m just horny.”

His eyes soften, as does his voice. “Shay, seriously. What the hell are you doing?”

“Making myself happy. Putting my own needs first.”

“This isn’t about your needs. It’s about your ego. That dipshit Chet bruised it, and you want to use me to patch it up.”

“He didn’t bruise my ego. He broke my heart. And you have five seconds, starting now, to decide before I get up and walk away. One night, Cole. That’s all it is. One night and we’ll never see each other again. Let’s do this.”

His look changes to one of genuine confusion. Somehow, his mercurial mood swings make him even more appealing.

“You’re the most baffling woman I’ve ever met.”

“You should see my tits. Then you’ll really be impressed.”

A sound rumbles through his chest. It’s low and dangerous, like a wolf’s growl.

When his gaze drops to my lips, I know I’ve almost got him. I whisper, “I have very sensitive nipples. I can’t wait to feel your tongue on them.”

There’s a moment—a long, breathless moment—where I can almost hear the thread of his self-control fraying. Then the last of his restraint snaps.

He leans in and covers my mouth with his.