Ruthless knight

My chest grows heavy. There’s definitely something indignant and ugly brewing inside him. 

His thumb brushes the corner of my mouth, taking me by surprise. “It’s crazy how the most genuine person I’ve ever met could believe in something so fucking bogus.” 

Sticks and stones, I remind myself, but my brain doesn’t get the message. 

“It’s crazy how the most beautiful guy I’ve ever laid eyes on could be so hideous inside.” I mutter a curse when I realize I said that aloud. “I’m sorry. That was rude. I didn’t mean—”

“Yeah, you did.” He doesn’t look at all upset or offended. Quite the contrary…he almost looks happy. Must be the alcohol. 

“Colton.” His eyes narrow. “Tell anyone and I’ll make your life a living hell…one that’s ten times worse than the one your little God threatens you with.”  

I slap his hand away. “You’re such an asshole.” 

“You go

He’s testing me, I realize. If he really wanted me to leave, he wouldn’t keep looking at me like he needs someone to save him. 

Cole’s waiting for my reaction, but I refuse to give him one. “I’m comfortable right here.” 

“Suit yourself.” His gaze drops to my chest. “Wonder how comfortable you’d be if I unbuttoned that sweater of yours and stuck my face between your tits?” 

I’m grateful the lights are off because my cheeks feel like they’re on fire. 

“Colton—”

“Cole,” he corrects. “Relax, Bible Thumper. If I was interested in your tits, they’d already be in my mouth. Same goes for your virgin cunt.”  

Yeah, he’s definitely testing my patience right now—and plucking my very last nerve like it’s his personal guitar. 

He reaches for my hand again, and heaven help me, because I let him. 

“I was born August twenty-first, but we don’t celebrate my birthday until November.” 

That’s…weird. “Why?” 

His hand goes rigid. “My family didn’t feel up to celebrating the day Liam was born after he offed himself, so Jace suggested I pick a new date. One that didn’t remind them of Liam’s death.” 

My chest coils. It’s all I can do not to wrap my arms around him, but something tells me he would interpret that as pity and wouldn’t respond well to it. 

 “Any reason you picked November?” 

“November seventh.” His lips curve. “And yeah…it’s the best month in football.” 

I’m processing the irony when an image of Cole on the football field races through my head. “Your jersey number. Everyone calls you lucky seven.” 

He waggles his eyebrows. “That’s because I am.” 

For a moment I think he’s going to drone on about how impressive his arm is, or rattle off his stats, but what he says next is much worse. 

“Given I’m the twin who’s still alive and all.” 

Whoa. Self-deprecating is one thing, but this…

It’s almost like his warped version of armor. 

Kind of like how the fat girl jokes about being heavy before anyone else can. 

We do it to protect ourselves, but it only digs the knife that much deeper…because we’re acknowledging we see ourselves the same way everyone else does. 

We’re admitting we’re just as worthless as they make us feel. 

I can’t imagine what it must feel like to be in Cole’s position and lose my twin brother, but I do know what it’s like to use parts of your personality as a shield to try and protect what’s on the inside. 

Because the truth is so ugly it hurts. 

“Cole—”

“Don’t.” His voice is a razor’s edge from cracking. “Don’t waste your time trying to fix me. You’ll only cut yourself on my fucked-up pieces.” The look he gives me twists my insides. “And when that happens…I’ll watch you bleed out with a smile on my face.” 

I’ve never met someone who was beyond saving before, but I guess there’s a first for everything. 

I should walk away. 

I should forget this random, bizarre conversation of ours…and leave him here by himself. 

I should keep pretending I’m not completely entranced by him. 

There are so many things I should do… 

Yet, I move closer. 

“Threaten me all you want, but I’m not afraid of you, Cole Covingt—”

I don’t get to finish that sentence because his mouth crashes against mine.

Oh. My. God. 

I swear my brain checks out and my heart skips several beats.  

Cole tastes exactly like I always imagined he would. Beer, heaven…and carnal sin. 

The latter is a glaring reminder. 

Breaking the kiss takes more willpower than turning down a decadent chocolate cake when you haven’t eaten in twelve hours.  

“We can’t. This is wrong.” 

“Christ. Not only is your God judgmental, he’s one hell of a cockblocker too.” 

It’s hard not to laugh because…well, he’s not exactly wrong there. 

However, Cole’s assumption about why I’m stopping this is. 

“This has nothing to do with God. This has to do with you chea—”

“Casey isn’t here. She’s probably talking to the guy she’s been texting all week.” Shifting, he grinds against me, making my senses rattle all over again. “Even if she was here, I’d be wishing it was you.” 

There’s not enough air in the room after that statement. 

But as much as I wish it was true and he was being sincere, I know better. 

 “You’re drunk.” 

 “And you’re beautiful.” My eyes flutter closed as he kisses a path down my jaw. “And real.” 

Cole’s cutting remark from before zips through my head. “Fu

He gives me a cocky smirk. “Told you, sweetness…I’m a liar.” 

His lips close the distance between us before I can argue. 

Good Lord. Trying to fight Cole’s kiss is like trying to fight quicksand you’re already sinking in.

I tried to do the honorable thing. That has to count for something, right?

All my life, I’ve tried my hardest to take the moral high road. For once, I want to indulge and see what it’s like to be the girl who gets the guy. 

Even if it’s only because the guy is drunk and I’m…here. 

Parting my lips, I let his tongue sweep inside. 

Like the flip of a switch, his kiss goes from light and teasing to intense and all-consuming. 

It’s a struggle to breathe as he greedily explores every inch of my mouth, like he’ll never get enough. 

My heart pounds—with nerves and pleasure—as his hands start roaming. 

His fingers toy with the first button of my sweater. “You okay?” 

No. I’m petrified. 

The furthest I’ve ever gone was whatever the base is before you hit a home run, I think—and it was with Tommy DaSilva. 

He was a wolf in sheep’s clothing. An asshole hiding behind a contrived, good boy exterior. 

And the Covingtons’ biggest enemy. 

But I didn’t know any of that when we met online…on a Christian dating forum. 

It wasn’t until we started talking privately in a chat that he disclosed he was from Royal Manor too. However, he didn’t attend RHA like me. Up until he graduated last year he went to the public school across town. 

Tommy suggested we meet up…but I declined. 

A month went by, and like clockwork, he kept asking to hang out. 

Finally, I came clean and told him I didn’t want to because I was afraid he wouldn’t like the way I looked. He didn’t strike me as vain, but I knew from his picture he was good looking and was on the football team.