“Where did he touch you?” “Cole,” he cautioned, still not answering me. “Not here. We can’t have this conversation here.” My shoes bumped up against his bare toes, and I palmed his nape, rubbing my thumb over the soft hair there. His breathing turned jittery, and he brushed a finger over the bags under my eyes. “Did you sleep at all?” he asked. “No. Not really,” I said before dipping my head to his exposed shoulder and inhaling up to his ear. He smelled like coffee. Like someone had taken a sip before tugging his shirt to the side and laying their mouth on him. I bit him there, replacing the
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