“Cole!” I screamed, exploding around him.

He grunted in surprise when my inner muscles clenched and unclenched around him powerfully as my orgasm rippled over me. “Shannon.” He choked out my name and tensed. A second later he groaned through gritted teeth as his hips jerked against mine.

A little while later as our senses returned, Cole pressed a sweet kiss to my lips. “Thank you,” he murmured.

I didn’t need to ask him what he was thanking me for. Instead I joked, “We’ll need to have this pool cleaned before we leave.”

His body shook against mine in the most wonderful way as his deep laughter filled the air around us.

CHAPTER 21

“W here do you think you’re going?” Ollie stared at my suitcases with a sneer.

Despite the fear snaking through my body, I jutted my chin out defiantly. “I’m leaving. We’re done. Get out of the way.”

I heard this inhuman growl, just before a blur of color streaked across my line of sight and a sudden pain slammed into my head.

Agony ripped through my right shoulder. I was dazed, and my vision kept blinking out, but I could still feel the pinching pain around my upper arms and the hot breath on my face.

Somehow I was on the floor. Ollie had me pinned there, his grip bruising my skin.

I shrieked in outrage, ignoring the throbbing ache on the left side of my head. I tried to push back against him, kicking with my legs, but my struggles were temporarily paused when he punched me in the gut.

The wind was knocked right out of me and I could do nothing but try to breathe.

Fire spread out across my cheeks from the almighty burning sting in my nose where his fist had just landed.

He pressed the right side of my face into the carpet—another kind of fire from the carpet burn streaking down my cheek. Then his weight was off me, but I took too long to realize it, turning my head to stare up at him as his foot swung into my gut.

I grunted, curling in on myself, gritting my teeth against the pain in my shoulder and the burst of pain that lit up my ribs every time he swung his boot into them.

“Mine, Shannon!” he roared. “Fucking mine!”

I felt the crack and the resultant agony, and the scream tore out of me before I could stop it.

There was nothing beyond the pain. I was barely cognizant of the crazy stuff pouring out of his mouth, about how it was us forever, only us.

It was only when I felt the cold air across my chest and the push of his hand between my legs that my survival instinct kicked in. Panic and terror rushed over me, the adrenaline kicking in, numbing the pain.

I fought. I clawed. I scratched and bit . . . but he wouldn’t get off me.

I felt him push against me. Ready to steal everything from me.

“No,” I sobbed. This wasn’t how it really ended. I had gotten away.

“You’ll never get away,” he panted in my face, his eyes turning black like a demon’s. “This is where you belong. No one wants you but me, Shannon. No one’s here but me. Not your family, not your brother. They hate you. They’ll never forgive you.” He kissed my lips gently. “But you’ll always have me.” His grip on my wrists tightened and he surged—

“No!” I cried out, my eyes slamming open in the dark.

I panted for breath as my eyes adjusted and I looked around. I was in Cole’s flat, in his bed.

“Shortcake?” his sleep-roughened voice queried from beside me.

The nightmare had been so real.

So goddamn real.

I sobbed in relief, drawing my arms up around my knees.

“What the fuck?” Cole muttered, and the bed moved as he sat up.

The light came on and he cursed again seconds before he pulled me into his arms. I fell against his chest, unable to control the sobs that felt like they were being ripped out of me.

“Shh,” he soothed, rubbing my back in comfort. “It was just a dream. You’re okay. You’re safe. You’re safe, Shannon.”

*   *   *

I was still feeling a little shaken as Cole returned to the bedroom carrying two mugs of tea. His hair stood up in all different directions, his lids were droopy with sleep, and he was half-naked. That was because it was only four o’clock in the morning.

But he didn’t seem to care.

He handed me a mug and climbed back into bed. He slid his free arm around my shoulders to pull me into his side while we sipped the chamomile tea I’d added to his kitchen along with a variety of other stuff a few weeks ago when he told me to make myself at home.

“A nightmare?” he said, his voice still hoarse with tiredness. “Do you get those a lot?”

“Sometimes,” I admitted. “But I haven’t had one in a while.”

I was frustrated I was having them again. Especially after our trip to Lake Como. Cole and I had reached new levels of intimacy in Italy—if anything I felt safer now than before we’d left for our trip. However, we’d returned two days ago and I’d spent most of those two days trying to shove the fact that I still hadn’t heard anything from my family out of my head despite my birthday having passed three weeks ago. And the reason I couldn’t get them out of my head was my guilt. I was so happy with Cole that it just made my remorse that much more insistent. It was plaguing me. My family was plaguing me.

“What are the dreams about?”

I sucked in a trembling breath. “Ollie’s attack. Except in the dream I don’t get away.”

The air around us crackled with Cole’s anger.

“I’m okay,” I promised.

“You’re not okay.” He put his mug down none too gently on the bedside cabinet and turned me to face him. His green eyes were more alert. Anger had bled into them. “You’re in my bed having nightmares.”