“Speaking of,” he said, tapping the necklace, “I think you and I should make the circle and say our goodbyes.”
We did, pausing a bit longer when we reached Angie, not just to thank her for the party, but to wait with her while the harbor security escorted away a wiry little man she’d seen sitting on one of the benches along the pier.
“At first I thought he was a guest,” she said. “But then he just sat and sat and stared at the boat. It creeped me out.”
The security guard who escorted the man away called Angie right before we left to tell her that the man was a tourist from Kansas who apparently thought that watching a party on some rich man’s boat was the kind of event that rounded out his bucket list.
“People are strange,” Angie said philosophically, and since I couldn’t argue with that, I didn’t even try.
I was still thinking about that statement when Cole pulled the Range Rover into the valet slot at the Firehouse. He came around and opened the door for me, and I stood there for a moment, just looking up at the nondescript building that hid what I imagined were dozens of fantasies and adventures. The possibilities both intrigued me and made me nervous, and I looked to Cole for support.
He took my hand automatically, but I felt distance, not the support I craved. My stomach twisted unpleasantly, and I couldn’t help but wonder if this was about me. If he was afraid that I couldn’t handle whatever went on in there.
“Mr. August,” a pretty young blonde wearing next to nothing said as we entered. “Welcome back.” She smiled at me, then returned her attention to him. “Your usual room?”
“Yes,” he said, and I had to bite back a frown because of the stiffness in his voice. A stiffness that seemed to increase once we were checked in and he pressed his hand against my back to lead me through a doorway and into a darkened corridor.
We’d taken two steps—and my eyes still hadn’t adjusted to the dark—when he pulled me to a stop. “No.”
That was all he said. And then he turned around, took my hand, and tugged me back toward the exit.
“Cole!” I said, once we were back outside, having blown past the baffled-looking hostess. “What the hell? What’s wrong? Is it me? Is it Michelle?”
“This isn’t the place for you.”
“Dammit, Cole, I thought we were past that. I can handle it. I want to handle it.”
“I know you do.” The words were low and harsh and laced with anger. “But I don’t want you to.”
I took a step back. “Okay, back up. What did I do? Why are you mad at me?”
Even as I watched, his expression seemed to crumble. “Fuck,” he said, then kicked the tire of the Range Rover that the valet had just returned from the lot. “Dammit, Kat, I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at me. Don’t you get it? I don’t want you here. And not because there’s anything wrong with the Firehouse, or anything wrong with you.”
He moved in front of me, then wiped away a tear that I hadn’t realized I’d shed. “It’s because of what you are to me,” he said, his voice so gentle it almost made the tears flow freely. “It’s because I came here because I needed something I couldn’t get anywhere else. I needed a safety net. But I don’t need that anymore. If I truly have you the way you say I do—the way I hope and believe that I do—then I don’t need this place anymore. Do you understand?”
I nodded, a little bit humbled, a little bit amazed.
“Is that okay?”
Okay? With every word and every touch he was telling me how much I meant to him. How could it be anything but okay?
And yet—
He’d been examining my face, and now he frowned.
“Oh, baby, I’m sorry. If you want to go in, that’s okay. I understand.”
“No—no,” I repeated quickly. “It’s not so much that I want to go in—Sloane’s told me a little bit about it, and to be honest, I’m not sure I’m keen on the public part.”
“But?”
I shrugged, then looked away. “I guess I want the experience.” I gathered my courage and met his eyes, finding them warm and understanding. “I want what I could get in there with you.”
A muscle in his cheek tightened, and he nodded. “Okay. We’ll go in.”
I shook my head and grabbed his arm. “No, you don’t understand. I just want you to take me there. I don’t care if it’s in the Firehouse or your bedroom or my house or in the back of your Range Rover. Does that make sense? I want it all, Cole. Everything you are and everything you have to offer. I’ll admit I’m curious, but it’s not a big deal. And if you don’t want to take me here, that’s fine.” I reached up and fingered the necklace he’d given me. “I’ll wear this anywhere you want me to. I just want you to take me all the way.”
“I’ve been thinking about that,” he said, with an odd gleam in his eye. “I was waiting for the right time to bring it up.”
I cocked my head. “What are you talking about?”
“Instead of the Firehouse, I want to take you to our playroom.”
I raised my brows. “You mean, like with sex toys and stuff?”
His laugh was pure delight. “God, Kat, you’re wonderful. Yes, with sex toys and stuff.”
I cocked my head and crossed my arms over my chest. “I hate to mention this, but I don’t think we have such a room. And if we do have one, I’m a little ticked off that you never bothered to mention it to me before.”