Page 73 of The Heart Breaker

Being naked with him is one thing. Letting him touch me in the dark, against locked doors, is easy in comparison to him standing in my bedroom, analyzing everything about me.

His eyes move over the posters on my wall until they land on the poster of my favorite band above my dresser, and he lets out a quiet snort. “Those guys suck.”

I narrow my eyes. “Good to know you have shit taste.”

One corner of his mouth lifts, but his attention shifts to the canvas I have propped up, and his head tips slightly as he takes in the piece.

“Nah,” he says. “I just like things with talent He gestures toward the canvas with a nod. “I like this.”

Something flutters low in my stomach. Compliments on my body never do much for me anymore. I’ve heard them too many times from too many men who all sound the same. But this—him looking at something I made, something I actually put time into, and meaning it—I never get that.

He nods toward the painting. “This for class?”

“Yeah.” My throat feels dry. “I have a presentation at the end of the year.”

“It’s really good,” he says, keeping his eyes on the canvas.

“Um… thanks,” I say, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear.

He finally pulls his gaze away from the painting and looks back at me, lifting a brow. “Why are you freaking out, Prescott?”

“I’m not freaking out,” I say automatically, even though my pulse is thudding. “I just…” I sigh. “I saw Chase.”

His whole expression changes, hardening. “When?”

“Earlier. After class.” I swallow. “He wanted to talk. Said he wants me to meet him so he can explain.”

He nods. “You gonna go?”

“No,” I say with a shake of my head. “I don’t want to hear anything he has to say.”

Cole moves, stepping closer, his hands settling on my hips. “Then stay.”

My breath catches. “What?”

“Stay here with me,” he says, one hand sliding to my ass, squeezing lightly. “Stop thinking about Johnson.”

If only he knew Chase is the last thing that’s been in my head. The only thing messing with me lately is him.

“We can’t have sex,” I tell him. “Isabella’s home.”

His mouth pulls into a smug smirk as he leans in, brushing his lips along the side of my neck. “We could be quiet.”

My head tips back before I can stop it, my fingers bunching in the hem of his shirt as heat shoots up my spine. God, I want him. Way more than I should. But Isabella is right down the hall, and if she walked in and saw him here—saw us—I wouldn’t even know where to begin.

“I’m serious,” I whisper, even though I’m not strong enough to pull away.

He pulls back and lets out a sigh. “Fine.”

I swallow and force down the urge to drag him right back where he was.

He drops onto the edge of my bed, leaning back on his hands, his gaze landing on my laptop. “You watch anime?”

“Yeah,” I say, suddenly far too aware that Cole is sitting on my bed while I stand here acting as if any of this is remotely normal. “I know most people think it’s lame, but?—”

“I don’t.”

“You don’t?” It comes out more surprised than I mean for it to, and he gives me a look.