Fall Back Skyward (Fall Back #1)(43)

Holy hell! How am I even sitting down?

Body: Liquid

Brain cells: I’m searching my head to determine if I have any functioning ones left. I’m ninety-nine percent certain they melted like butter after reading those words.

Heart: It’s not even mine anymore. He owns it. It’s perched on his lap, panting like an eager puppy waiting to be petted.

Soul: He owns that too.

Ovaries: I’m not sure mine have recuperated since I first laid eyes on Cole.

I haven’t taken a sip of my drink since Simon brought it over. I grab the glass like a lifeline and gulp down half of its contents in one swoop.

When I set it back on the table, my throat is still parched. I’m still hot and my heart is beating fast.

“If that’s how you feel,” I say and gesture to the note, “then why haven’t you kissed me yet?” I blurt out.

Gosh, Nor. Desperate much?

“I wanted to kiss you every time we were together, but I couldn’t. Do you know why?” He leans forward and brushes his knuckles against the back of my hand and says, “Anticipation.”

That word is everything that is Cole Holloway. I’m never sure what he’s thinking behind those gray eyes. Will he smile at me? Frown? Not say anything at all?

Cole pulls his hand back, his gaze never leaving mine. He pins my knee with his against the soft curve of the seat.

Once.

Once is enough to set my soul ablaze, fiercer and hotter than ever before.

I cough and breathe and cough again, trying to get my body back under control before saying, “I came to see you because I want you to do something for me.”

One dark eyebrow goes up and he sinks further into his chair. He folds his arms on his chest.

I lift my hands and sign, “I want to learn how to sign.”





HIS SHOULDERS START TO SHAKE right before he grins wide.

“Yeah, yeah get it off your chest,” I murmur under my breath. I made him laugh even though whatever I signed was ridiculously wrong. It kind of feels good to know I can do that to him.

Oh man, his smile belongs in a freakin’ toothpaste commercial.

The mirth in his eyes fades a bit. He scribbles on his trusty notepad again. You just asked me if I want to take a piss.

I gape at him. “I did?”

This only pushes him to laugh harder, and oh man. His laugh is throaty so it’s definitely worth messing up the signs.

“No. I’m just teasing you.”

I pretend to scowl at him but end up grinning. I’m liking this playful side of him. It’s addictive and unexpected.

I’m not ready to stop playing this game. I grab the notebook and write, Teach me and then straighten in my chair, crossing my arms on my chest. When he looks up from the notepad, he’s no longer smiling.

I raise a brow at him, challenging him and point my finger to the words I wrote. His stare drops lower to my chest. I follow his gaze and see my boobs, pressing against my dress, pushing up from my folded arms.

“Really, Cole?!” He’s such a guy!

He shrugs.

“I thought Josh was teaching you.” His shoulders tense, his jaw clenches.

“I want you to teach me.”

He nods once, that little smile appearing once again. His body visibly relaxes.

Downing the rest of my ginger ale, I place the glass on the table and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. He drops the pen on the table, the sound bouncing around the silent room.

He holds his hands out with the palms facing up, draws his fingers toward him as if they’re grabbing something, and then curls his hands into fists, puts one on top of the other and does this counterclockwise grinding motion.

Um. . .

He bites his bottom lip and repeats the gesture while saying loudly, “Wanna get coffee?”

I raise my hands and copy what he just did. I know I’m messing it up big time when he smirks, scoots his chair closer and grabs my hands to walk me through the steps.

His hands are touching mine now. I can’t think. I can’t breathe. I swear my brain has short-circuited. I’m useless.

He drops his fingers from mine and asks me to repeat. I do it but mess the steps up again because my skin is tingling where his hands were. He’s patient though. In fact, it seems like he’s enjoying this a little too much.

“Thank you,” I sign.

He nods and says, “The pleasure is all mine.”

Why do I feel those five little words hold more meaning than meets the eye?

Cole stands up from his chair, lifts his arms up in a stretch and my fantasy about ever seeing a part of his skin other than his face and arms comes to life. His T-shirt rides up and reveals a slip of his stomach. He’s toned, probably from building houses and lifting things in his dad’s construction company.

God.

Are those abs real?

Right before the shirt slides back down, I catch a glimpse of a tattoo on the right side of his rib. His smirks when he sees where my attention is. He steps around the small desk, takes my hand from my lap and tugs me up. Once I’m standing, he hooks his pinkie finger around mine, turns around and strides toward the back of the room where the majority of the shelves are. Everyone seems preoccupied with whatever they are doing. Feeling braver with each step, I follow him. I’m helpless not to. It’s like Cole is a wind charmer and I’m the wind. Whichever way he blows, I’m there, following him, unable to resist his call.