the morning,” he says, rising from his seat. “Goodnight.” Dr. Flanders moves swiftly out of the room. His footsteps resonate in soft thumps down the hall, and I hold my breath until all traces of him are no longer audible.
“Stunt condoms?” I say, stymied by his father’s strange spontaneous PSA equip with circus-worthy prophylactics.
Coop swipes them off the desk in one easy move and gives a wicked grin.
“I guess it’s time to get to bed.”
Cooper Flanders looks as if he were hewn from limestone, that his face was blessed by God and his heart was made of gold so pure it flowed throughout his body in its molten, liquid form. It’s no wonder Coop glows, inside and out. He’s remarkable and kind, and deep down I know he can never be mine.
“Why so sad?” he says, pausing from unbuttoning his dress shirt. He barricaded the door to his room as if locking it could never be enough, and I blushed at the implications, although I’m still convinced they’re platonic.
I shrug, unwilling to share how unfair everything feels at the moment. How a little part of me wished I were Grayson Evans earlier this evening.
“You never saved that dance for me.” It comes out so ridiculous, I bury my head in his pillow. I watched him with Grayson every chance Wes happened to look away. And, sadly for Wes, I wished I were with Coop more than a few times tonight.
The soft hum of music fills the room. He switches off the lights, and my insides tighten at the thought of dancing in the dark with Coop of all people.
“Coop! You so don’t have to do this.” My heart melts as he lures me over with the tug of my hand. “We’ll wake Marky.”
“She’s dead until seven.”
My fingers, clasp over his, my hand lands soft over his chest and to my surprise it’s bare.
“You’re not wearing a shirt.” I try to hold back the budding smile from forming on my lips. I take him in like this, lost in the shadows, his skin expanding, smooth and hard as granite. “I think you’re underdressed.”
“Oh really?” He smolders into me. “I think you’re overdressed.”
I tip my head back and laugh.
The curtains are stretched wide, allowing the streetlight to spray the room with a touch of night magic. Coop bites down on his lip, and a fire spreads through my body, warm and alive, all for Cooper. I glance down at the curves of his chiseled abs, the flat wall of his chest a mile wide. He presses his hips to mine and my insides explode with heat.
Here we go.
My body quivers as I increase my grip over his fingers. His touch ignites an inferno ripping through every intimate part of me. I don’t remember the last time Wes made me feel this way, and everything in me wants to cry. I shouldn’t feel this way about anybody else—especially not Coop.
The curve of a devilish smile plays on his lips as he pulls me in. The light scent of his woodsy cologne encircles us, makes me dizzy in a good way. I lay my face against his chest, and my cheek sears over his heated flesh.
Coop presses his hand into the small of my back, and my body takes on his contours. I can feel his strong arms protecting me like wings of steel. His erection protrudes against my thigh, but I choose to ignore it for now.
He sighs into me, blowing a warm breath over my hair before bowing down and planting a kiss just behind my ear.
“Laken.” It heaves from him with the undertones of disappointment—a sadness that we share while rocking steady to the music.
It’s torture like this with Coop.
He pulls back and winces into me. His eyes lock over mine as a blaze ignites in our hearts. It lights the entire room up in flames, and, dear God, do I ever want to burn.
Cooper leans in and touches his cheek to mine. He draws his forehead over the top of my head—his mouth hedges just shy of my lips as if asking permission. His chest pumps wild against my own as if demanding an explanation as to why I’m denying a god like Cooper Flanders the right to love me like he wants to. A question I’m beginning to ask myself on a loop.
Coop heaves a heated breath right over my mouth, and I turn my face ever so slightly to deflect something that I want just as bad as