Page 80 of The Heart Breaker

He looks up when he hears me, his brows pulling together. “What are you doing here?”

“What the hell was that?” The words leave my mouth before I can stop them. “What part of ‘don’t get into a fight’ did you not understand?”

His eyes drag over my face, and for some reason my attention snags on the drop of water sliding slowly down his throat.

He lets out a short, bitter laugh. “You’re still worried about golden boy? Even after he cheated on you?” He shakes his head and drags another towel through his wet hair. “If you want me to say sorry, it’s not happening.”

“I don’t care about Chase,” I snap.

Cole’s mouth twists. “Could’ve fooled me.”

“I don’t,” I say again, narrowing my eyes. “But he knows now. He knows we’re—” The word catches and dies in my throat, because I still don’t know what the hell to call this. I shake my head. “Why did you fight him?”

He shrugs. “Felt like it.”

A laugh scrapes out of me before I can stop it. “Of course you did.” My hands clench at my sides. “God, you’re so immature. All you do is fight. You can’t deal with anything unless you’ve got something to hit so you can feel tough.”

His eyes darken when he turns to face me. “He was talking shit about you,” he grits out. “That’s why I punched him.”

My brain stutters. “What?” My voice cracks. “Why… why would you do that?”

He looks away, lifting his shoulder in a shrug. “Beats me.”

I stare at him, trying to make sense of it. “But… you hate me.” My brows pull together. “Why would you care what he says about me?”

His eyes move over my face and his jaw locks again, water dripping from his chin. “Doesn’t matter how I feel about you. That doesn’t give him the right to call you a slut.”

My stomach drops so fast it makes me feel sick.

After three years with him—three years of being loyal, of shutting down every guy who even looked my way, of never giving Chase a single reason to doubt me—that’s what he calls me.

A slut.

My eyes fall to the floor, my throat tight and my stomach twisting into a knot.

Cole’s fingers slide under my chin and tip my face back up. “Don’t,” he says. “Don’t let him make you believe that shit for a second.”

I blink up at him, and instead of the dark, hard expression I expect, I’m met with warm brown eyes, softening with light flecks in them I somehow never noticed before.

His thumb brushes slowly over my cheek, and my stomach flutters like crazy.

My eyes drift shut before I can stop them, my pulse kicking harder when the rough pad of his thumb brushes over my bottom lip.

Snap out of it.

My eyes open, common sense rushing back in.

This is Cole Ellis.

I do not get to stand here havingfluttersover him.

His gaze drops to my mouth, then lower, landing on the leather jacket still wrapped around my shoulders.

“That my jacket, Viper?” he asks, the corner of his mouth lifting.

I manage a small nod, which is humiliating, considering I seem to have forgotten how to speak.

His smirk deepens when his eyes lift back to mine. “I like seeing you in something of mine.”