Filthy Gorgeous Lies: Book 1 Page 5
“I just texted your date. You’re not feeling well and you’re coming home with me.”
Annoyance spreads through me. I’m not ready to leave. Michael is waiting for my answer to his question — which… I can’t quite remember.
I blink at Cole for a few seconds before I realize the phone he’s holding is mine. I recognize the distinct Minnie Mouse case I’d spent months hunting down on eBay. Reaching up, I take a swipe at the phone several times before finally snatching it out of his hand — and only because he allows me to. I have a feeling nothing happens in Cole’s universe without his explicit permission. I am clearly no exception.
“Cole, is everything okay?” It’s a woman’s voice.
Cole turns his head toward her, giving me the opportunity to pull away. Without his support, though, I overcompensate and trip over my heels, falling backward into the wall. A queasy sensation coils in my stomach and suddenly I’m finding it difficult breathe.
I clutch my stomach — I think I’m going to be sick. “I really don’t feel well.”
Cole turns back to me, concern etched into his features. “I know, kitten. I’m going to get you home.”
“Cole, who the hell is she?” I hear the woman ask, her voice tight and high–pitched, like she’s on the brink of class five tantrum.
I open my mouth to respond, but I can’t push the words past my lips. I’m so tired and my limbs suddenly feel heavy, like they’re weighted down with lead.
“Lexi, look at me.” It’s Cole’s voice.
My eyelids flutter open and I look up into his eyes. They’re a beautiful light green. A shade or two lighter and they’d be colorless. I marvel at the flecks of gold in his irises, and the way they play off the dim overhead lighting. He’s so beautiful — a perfectly sculpted work of art.
That beautiful face is the last thing I see before darkness closes in and swallows me whole.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Warmth is the first thing I become aware of. Slowly, I blink open my eyes and the only thing I see is darkness. The curtains are drawn, only allowing in a sliver of light — enough to see that the room surrounding me is unfamiliar.
Sitting up, I blink and try to remember where I am, but I come up blank. The last thing I remember is seeing Michael from across the restaurant. Everything between then and now is completely blank as though the last few hours have been wiped clean from my memory, replaced by a killer headache.
Slipping out of the bed, I walk barefoot to the window, wearing only a man’s white t–shirt — no bra, no underwear — and pull the curtain open. The entire Manhattan skyline is laid out in front of me, lights twinkling from the building windows like glinting jewels scattered across the night sky. It’s breathtaking.
“Do you like the view?”
I whirl around to face familiar male voice. “Cole,” I breathe.
Cole is leaning against the door frame, wearing nothing but a pair of sweats — the same pair he was wearing at the hotel when I showed up to get my phone.
“Where am I?”
“My flat,” he answers casually.
“Why? How did I get here?”
“I ran into you at the restaurant last night. You were unwell, so I brought you home.”
Unwell? I shake my head. None of this is making sense. If I were sick, wouldn’t Michael have taken me home?
“And Michael?”
He shrugs. “I texted him from your phone. You told him you were ill. He thinks you took a cab home.”
“Shit.” I rub my right temple where the headache has settled and is now concentrated. “Avery is probably out of her mind with worry.”
He rakes a hand through his hair, making it stand on end — which, somehow, just manages to make him look sexier. “I texted her too.”
I drop my hand and raise an eyebrow. “My phone is locked. How did you know the password to unlock it?”
“Your code is your birthday, 1022. Not very secure.”
“Clearly,” I say flatly. “Wait, how do you know my birth date?”
“You must have mentioned it.”
Granted there’s a huge gap in my memory from last night, but I’m relatively certain I’ve never mentioned my birthday to him. Suspicion starts to trickle in. There’s something going on — something he’s not telling me — and I’m not sure what it is.
“I’m going to ask you something, and I want you to be completely honest with me,” I say, drawing out the word completely.
He nods in agreement.
“How the hell do you know so much about me?”
He lifts a brow. “I only know what you’ve told me.”
“I never mentioned my last name, or my birthday.”
One side of his mouth lifts in a half–smile. “Are you sure about that?”
I open my mouth to say, yes, of course I am, but doubt slowly starts to trickle in. Whenever I’m around Cole, I’m driven crazy with need, and my mind seems to go blank. Is it possible I could have said something and not remembered?
But that’s not the only question I have. As much as I hate to admit it, another question has been weighting on me since my conversation with Avery.
I lift my chin and look him eye. “Are you married?”
He laughs under his breath and shakes his head. “God, no. I don’t hate myself that much.”
Relief washes over me. “Good.” I pause. “Wait, what does that mean?”
“Some people have no business getting married.”
“People like you,” I finish for him.
“Yes, people like me.”
“Why?”
He rubs his neck. “Because I’m fucked up.” I part my lips to ask another question, but before I can get the words out, he interrupts me. “If you’d like a shower, the bathroom is through that door. I’ll be in the kitchen getting breakfast ready.”
And just like that, I’m shut out. The conversation is over. I’ve stepped too far over the line, dug too deep, and now he’s running away.
When he’s gone, I turn toward the bathroom door and release a breath. A long, hot shower actually sounds heavenly. My muscles ache and hot water pouring over me is exactly what I need.
As I walk into the bathroom and strip off the t–shirt, I catch my reflection in the mirror and notice a bite mark on my breast, just above my right nipple.
What the…?
I blink and lean against the cold white granite countertop, closer to the mirror, brushing my fingers over the pink–purple indentations. Definitely bite marks. Where the hell did they come from?
I inspect the rest of my body and find another set of bite marks on my inner thigh. They are faint, but unmistakable, and tender to the touch.
Closing my eyes, I try hard to remember something — anything — from last night, but the only glimmer of memory is of Cole, hovering above me, his weight pressing into me. His scent surrounding me.
Tossing the t–shirt back on, I tiptoe out of the bathroom in search of Cole.
I’m halfway down a short hallway, when a closed door catches my eye. All the other doors along the hallway are open, giving me a glimpse of what’s inside. A bathroom, another bedroom…but this door is conspicuously closed, and I can’t help wonder what lies beyond the frosted glass door.
I only hesitate a second before placing my hand on the handle and pushing the door open softly. I step into the room and switch on the light. What I see makes me draw in a sharp breath.
There are at least thirty photos pinned to the wall — all taken in a variety of settings. Coffee shops, street corners. And there’s only one person in every photo. Me.
TO BE CONTINUED…
Coming Next
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Find out what happens with Lexi and Cole next in
Filthy Gorgeous Lies, Part 2
Cole Grayson has consumed my world. The fierce, soul–wrenching pass
ion that sparks between us is impossible to resist. Cole satisfies my most exotic desires, my darkest fantasies…
And as I slowly start to glimpse the man beneath the fantasy, I realize there’s more to Cole than meets the eye. Underneath his sexy as hell exterior lies a man tormented by demons and whose secrets run far deeper than I ever thought possible.
But when my past and my present suddenly collide, my world is torn apart and I discover everything I thought I knew about Cole was wrong…
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Table of Contents
Title
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Coming Next
Guide
Cover
Table of Contents
Start of Content