I woke in the morning to a very sweaty man clinging to me in his sleep. He was fast asleep and I traced the tattoos that climbed up his arms until I reached the red scar from where the bullet clipped his shoulder. It had shattered through the swirls of black ink leaving an indented softness in its place.
The sun had peaked its way into the room and I was suddenly aware of how much I needed to shower and brush my teeth as I twisted away from his arms. My hair was sticking up in the place I had been lying against his chest.
He remained fast asleep as I made my way from the bed, a deep breathing I could only describe as manly coming from him as I did so.
Once in the bathroom, I looked myself in the mirror with a disbelief that Cole really had happened last night. It had been just as delic
