Read Me (Forget the Past, #2)

by Lauren Connolly

I fight off a frustrated sigh. The cute librarian’s continuous attempts to help me are one of the highlights of my week.

I can’t help having flashbacks to the other times in my life when I felt safe only moments before finding myself abandoned.

“I used you to escape an uncomfortable situation. I’m sorry.” He shrugs, eyes still not meeting mine. “Use me any time.”

He is a stoic, bright light at the end of the week as I let myself daydream about my crush.

The heavy black writing overtop of the printed words that has me choking on bile. You’re delicate like a bird.

Under the sink, I extend my hand into a dark corner behind bottles of bleach and toilet cleaner until I feel the corner of a box I wish would disappear. Instead, I pull the container into the light, lift the lid, and place the article on top of a pile of others just like it.

“Do you want a hug?” A Cole Allemand hug? Does such a thing even exist? “Are you offering a hug? You don’t seem like a hugger.” “I’m not.” “Well, I don’t want a hug full of lies.” I cross my arms, knowing that I’m being obstinate. But that’s what this day does to me. Cole’s mouth twitches. “I’m not a hugger. But I’d like to hug you.”

There’s a pressure on the top of my head, and I realize Cole is resting his chin on me. Like he has no immediate plans to end this embrace.

He needs to eat more. Maybe I should add more apples to my fridge.

“Black works for me today,” I repeat. “But when I’m happy again—and I will be—I won’t be able to stop myself.” “From doing what?” he murmurs, his stare seeming to catch on my mouth. “From trying to paint you in colors.”

I catch glimpses of Cole’s smile. That’s when I realize my face is creased in the same expression. I’m smiling. Despite this being the anniversary of the worst day of my life, Cole Allemand has found a way to make me just a little bit less miserable.

wonder if Cole would accept pillows from me. I could sew him a black one. I could sew him twenty black ones if he asked. I will make him a pillow,

“I work with the cats at a local animal rescue.” “Oh.” No. No no no. This cannot be allowed. A sexy tattooed man cannot work with cute animals all day. And not just work with them.

He’s gentle, and I’m surprised to realize I want Cole to be rough. I want to feel ravished. Consumed. Like I’m the air his lungs need to breathe.

“You’re like drinking an entire bottle of red wine. I’m drunk and horny around you.”

“I’m sorry. I just have to say, I devoured your latest book. I never thought I’d find sex dungeons interesting.” “What?” Dash and I ask in unison.

“You were wearing a blue dress and a bunch of jingly bracelets. When I asked where the writers group was meeting you smiled at me like I said you won the lottery. So yeah, I wanted to find a private room, push your skirt up, and make your jewelry rattle.”

“It’s not sanitary, but I want to lick all of your piercings.” She whispers the words like a confession, and my hard-on from earlier makes a reappearance. “Get inside. Now.”

“You know what this means right?” I whisper against Cole’s chest. “What’s that?” “You’re literally too hot for me to handle.” The sound of his snort is the last thing I remember before falling asleep.

“And if you mention it, he gives you this look.” The mechanic meets my eyes then, his mouth curving even more. “This look that says Of course I’m helping you, asshole. So shut the fuck up about it.”

Want me like I want you. Don’t leave me.

I need you to close my office door and ravish me. Wait, when did my vagina develop the ability to form thoughts?

What if I see him holding a kitten? Does he know what he’s doing? Does he know how easily I’m falling for him?

“Yes. You are. You’re going to read them to me while you’re naked, and I’m licking your tattoos. Because I’m the luckiest girl in the world, and I want a taste of The Inked Dragon.” Then she bites my ear lobe, and I almost come on the spot.

Because I love Summer Pierce. I think I’ve loved her for months.

“C-Cole!” She stutters over the word as her inner muscles quiver and tighten on my hard cock. I love you, I repeat to myself as I thrust inside her. I love you. My hips press into her soft thighs. I love you. Her hands pull me in for a searing kiss. As my orgasm blurs everything else in my mind, two words play on repeat. A silent, desperate plea. Love me.

“I know you did this all on your own, but I am so proud of you.” The words come on a low, worshipful murmur. They dig into me and caress every inch of my self-doubt.

“Yes,” I choke out. Heavy-lidded, she leans forward, only tall enough to press a kiss to my collar bone. “Do you know how proud I am of you?” she whispers against my throat. I know the answer she wants. “Yes.” “Good.”

“Why did I lie, you ask? I lied because I am a monster and you are perfection. I lied because I am selfish, and I want you. I lied because the truth of me is a dark twisted mass. I lied because I am terrified. Terrified of life without you in it. I am desperate for you, and I believed lies were the only way to keep you from leaving. If I had known that truth was the key to you, I would have shared every detail of my pathetic existence.”

“Cole Allemand.” Even after all this time, I still love saying his full name.