by Naima Simone
“Insensitive fucker.”
“It’s just his—” She cut off the reflexive excuse she’d been about to make for Daniel. But then she frowned, remembering how his dismissive, thoughtless response had been a shitty thing to do, and snapped, “Yes, he was. He never asked about my dreams, about my hopes, my inspiration. Even if what I wrote was crap, he never encouraged me to improve. Hell, he’s a teacher, that’s what he’s supposed to do. He could support and inspire his students, but not his own wife. For years, I didn’t write after that. I did what he suggested. Put it aside. Was afraid to try again. All because I trusted the wrong person with my dreams.”
“Are you willing to trust again?” Cole asked, tangling his fingers with hers and gripping tight. As if he were attempting to infuse courage into her through physical contact.
The “no” leaped on her tongue, hot and immediate. But before it could burst past her lips, she trapped it. Could she? She’d told Cole about the book of her heart, something she hadn’t discussed with anyone. But could she take this last step and risk another rejection from another husband?
Cole isn’t Daniel.
No, he has even more power to devastate me.
Go shop for those big girl drawers and pull them on. And stop being so damn dramatic while you’re at it.
Screw you.
Oh wonderful. Now she was arguing with herself. And losing.
“Okay,” she murmured. Before she could change her mind, she snatched up the computer, powered it back up and set it on Cole’s thighs. Then she rose from the couch and strode toward the front door.
“Where are you going?”
“For a walk.” She threw him a narrowed glance. “And don’t try to tell me I should be taking it easy. A walk will be good for me, and I can’t sit in this house while you read my book.”
The corner of his mouth twitched, but he wisely didn’t attempt to convince her to stay. “Be careful,” he said.
She nodded and, opening the door, headed outside. For the next hour, she strolled around the beautiful, quiet area that included several rental cottages, along with the buildings belonging to the Dennisons. The late summer afternoon ambled into early evening, but the sun still spilled its rays over the rich green yards, filtering through the trees. Peace wrapped around her like a comforting blanket, and as she stood at the end of Cole’s driveway, peering at the majestic mountains beyond, she gently rubbed her belly.
“I’ve made some mistakes in my life, jellybean,” she said, and smiled at the little poke that could’ve been a foot or hand. “But despite all my initial doubts, moving back here isn’t one of them. I’ve done right by you in this.” As if agreeing, her stomach lifted in another nudge, and Sydney laughed. Anyone passing by might wonder why she was laughing to herself, but she didn’t care.
As she turned to the house and started up the walkway, that peace started to ebb, and anxiety waltzed in.
“You can’t hang out here all night,” she grumbled, marching up the sidewalk to the small porch. “Whatever he’s going to say, he’s going to say. And you can take it.”
With those determined words ringing in the air, she twisted the knob and entered the house.
“I wondered how long you were going to stand out there,” Cole murmured, glancing up from the laptop.
She scrutinized his shuttered gaze and unsmiling face, her heart thudding against her rib cage. Suddenly, her tongue felt thick in her mouth and she could barely swallow. Say anything! Tell me!
“There are two things I now know for certain,” he stated, his voice even. A little too even. “One, your ex is a complete asshole. And two...” He shook his head, and for the first time since she reentered the house, his eyes softened and a note of reverence colored his voice. “Baby girl, you’re brilliant. You’re fucking brilliant, and I suspect Daniel recognized it and tried to dim that dazzling light so you wouldn’t leave him. He was afraid you wouldn’t need him.”
Placing the laptop on the cushion beside him, he stood and crossed the room. Which was good. Because she couldn’t move, stunned by his passionate, husky words.
You’re fucking brilliant.
...tried to dim that dazzling light...
Tears stung her eyes, and she squeezed her eyes shut against them. Against that gleam in his eyes that had her longing to do foolish, reckless things like throw her arms around him and beg him to let her into his heart...to love her.
Because, God help her, she loved him.
As hard as she’d tried to guard her heart, she’d failed.
She’d loved him as a friend. And now she loved this broken, tortured and walled-off man with the heart of the woman who’d experienced loss, disappointments, heartaches. A woman who should know better.
But when he’d put aside his own pain to make sure she wasn’t alone at her doctor’s appointment... When he’d never been embarrassed about being seen with the town black sheep... When he’d offered his name, his home and his future to protect her and her baby... Each instance of sacrifice, of kindness, of vulnerability had chipped away at her resolve until he’d slipped inside her heart before she’d even been aware.
Now it was too late.
And call it woman’s intuition, a sixth sense or just plain superstition, she knew she would pay for that mistake.
“You going to give me those eyes, baby girl?” he whispered. “I need them.”
No. Because then you’ll see I betrayed our bargain. And you’ll run faster.
After a moment, she did as he asked. But not before granting herself a much-needed pause to put her shields back in place. Better than leaving herself so vulnerable to him that she might as well be standing there naked with her arms open, her chest unprotected. No, as much as she loved him, she still didn’t trust him with the heart that now belonged to him.
“Good,” Cole softly praised. “I need you to look at me, so you see I’m telling you the truth. You’re a grant writer, and I don’t doubt a fine one. But that’s not all you are. Because what I just read? You deserve to be on a shelf in a bookstore, your name right next to your favorite bestsellers. And if you want to pursue it by yourself, I’ll support you one hundred percent. Or if you want my help, I’ll give it to you and still support you one hundred percent. Because you’re that damn good.”
Relief spiraled through her, and she clutched his forearms, leaning forward until her forehead pressed against his pectoral muscle. Quick on the heels of the relief, though, surged an indescribable joy laced with equally sharp pain. Joy because of obvious reasons. She hadn’t been expecting his reaction. Even though she’d trusted him with her book, there’d remained a tiny bit of her that had anticipated the same reaction she’d received from Daniel. To receive just the opposite from a man she respected and admired? Yeah, her knees wobbled with happiness.
But the pain? The pain because his reaction, his praise and unconditional offer of help, only solidified that she loved him.
And she was going to let him break her heart.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“I’m only speaking the truth.” He cupped the back of her neck, his other hand smoothing over her hair. She sensed more than felt his lips brush over the crown of her head, but the caress still hummed through her like a plucked cord. “Thank you for sharing it with me. For sharing you with me.”
She couldn’t say anything that wouldn’t divulge just how much she yearned for that which he couldn’t give her. Something like, If you’d only ask for all of me, I’d gladly give it. Since she didn’t dare utter that, she settled for pressing her lips to his chest. Right over his barricaded heart.
A growl vibrated against her mouth. His fingers tangled in her hair, gripping the curls. “I’m being sensitive and supportive here, and you’re not letting me.”
“You can be sensitive and supportive,” she said, then bit the dense muscle through his whit
e dress shirt. “And naked.”
“Fuck,” he snapped, pulling on her hair and tugging her head back. A moan escaped her, and she arched deeper into his tall frame. “There’s going to come a time when just the scent of you,” he buried his head in the crook between her neck and shoulder, his heated breath moist against her skin, “doesn’t make me hard.”
“Is that what you want?” She stared up at the ceiling, her heart lodged in her throat. Right where he placed a hot, openmouthed kiss.
He lifted his head, stared down at her with solemn eyes and damp, sensual lips. “It’s what I need,” he rasped. “But not what I want.”
The answer was a double-edged sword, and it sliced her both ways. His mind and heart warred with his body. For now, with her blood simmering in her veins, pooling between her thighs, she’d take it. Take him.
Lifting to her toes, she nipped his bottom lip, then sucked on it. His grip on her hair and neck tightened, and when she would’ve drawn back, he didn’t allow it. Instead, his mouth covered hers, his tongue taking possession of hers. This. Oh God, this she would never get tired of. Like him, she doubted there would come a time when she would. Because his taste, how he mastered every one of her responses, how he seemed to intuit every caress that she needed—they were every bit as addictive as the indescribable pleasure he bestowed upon her.
Being seen.
It was her Achilles’ heel.
Submerging every thought but the heated power under her palms, she met him, thrust for thrust. Until the times—like now—where she just surrendered. Let him take the lead. Let him tug her under with his hungry licks and sucks. Let him be her guide on a sexual adventure into an adult theme park where he was the roller coaster, Ferris wheel and fun house rolled into one.
And damn, did she want to ride him.
She gripped his shoulders, hiking herself higher against him, pressing tighter. Opening wider, granting him more access to the only place she could—her body. With a dark rumble, he tore his mouth free of hers, scattering hard kisses to her cheeks, jaw, throat. His teeth grazed the line of her shoulder before lightly clamping down, marking her with lips and tongue. She tilted her head back, blinking up at the ceiling as molten desire poured through her in a sinuous glide.
Him. She’d been created for him. Like a switch, she came alive in an unprecedented way—an instinctive, primal way. And he was the source.
“Off,” he ordered, fisting the bottom of her top and hauling it upward.
She shot her arms in the air, and as soon as the shirt cleared her head, she attacked the buttons on his. One after the other, she freed them, yanking and snatching until his wide, muscled chest was bared to her like the perfect gift.
“So beautiful,” Cole murmured, cupping her bra-covered breasts, whisking his thumbs back and forth over the straining nipples. For a moment, she paused, staring down at those large hands on her, enjoying the sight almost as much as the heat racing through her like lightning.
She briefly closed her eyes, shivering from the firm strokes to her flesh. Savoring them. But greed rose, swift and demanding, and she flattened her hands on his ridged abdomen. In her head, she could admit she’d become somewhat obsessed with his body, with touching it. And with knowing that Cole seemed to welcome every caress like a big cat basking under a hot summer sun. She licked her lips, imagining tracing each rung of muscle with her mouth. Feeling those muscles flex under her tongue. Later. That promise to herself granted her the strength to refocus and smooth her palms up his torso, over his chest and shoulders and down his arms, taking the shirt with her.
A fine thread of desperation wound through the lust, lending her movements an urgency that hadn’t appeared in the previous times they’d been together. Determined to ignore that tick-tick in her head, like a clock slowly counting down the time, she retraced the same path. Up his arms, over his shoulders and down his chest until the heels of her palms scraped the small brown discs of his nipples. His big body shivered, and she repeated the caress, rubbing, circling...then bringing her tongue into play.
She moaned just as his own moan vibrated under her mouth, his hands tangling in her hair. The flavor of him—rich, sharp, tempered with a sweet, fresh scent like cold water—filled her, and she lapped at his skin, thirsty and unable to quench it. She got lost in him. Capturing him between her teeth and tugging, then licking, sucking the sting away—these became her reason for existence. Her world. Hard fingertips massaged her scalp, pressing her tighter to him. Each firm twist or pull demanded she stop teasing and give him more.
Which she obeyed.
Because that desperation, it hadn’t dissipated no matter how hard she’d tried to shove it out of her mind. It goaded her, and inflamed the need to mark him, force him to feel her—remember her. Here, in this moment, she wanted to possess him...be possessed in return.
Abandoning the stiff tip, she slid her mouth over to the neglected one. She worried it, drawing it between her lips and flicking her tongue over it, hauling one groan after another from him. Pleasure pounded within her like a bass drum, strong, resounding, reaching all parts of her. Especially her achy, wet sex. She clenched her thighs around the empty throbbing, but experience assured her this wouldn’t alleviate it. Nothing could do that but his cock buried inside her, filling her. Completing her.
She trailed her lips down his chest, between the ripple of his abs, pausing to trace each ridge of muscle. Slowly, she sank to her knees, hands falling to the thin belt looped through his suit pants. With suddenly uncoordinated fingers, she released it, jerking open the tab of his pants, too.
“Sydney.” Cole cupped her shoulders, smoothing his hands up her neck to her face, tipping it up to meet his bright amber gaze.
“Are you going to stop me?” She didn’t look away as she continued lowering his zipper and tugging his pants down until they hung loose on his slim hips. When his only response was to clench his jaw, his lips flattening into a hard, carnal line, she dipped her head, nuzzling first one line then the other of the vee that disappeared into his black boxer briefs. “Are you going to let me take you, Cole? Or are you going to be too much of a gentleman to fuck my mouth?” she whispered, yanking on the front of his underwear until the swollen tip of his erection popped free.
Humming low in her throat, she brushed a caress over the small slit at the top. A barely there kiss. His hands shifted from her cheeks to her hair, his grip tighter, rougher than earlier.
That was all the answer she needed.
Her lips parted over the head, taking him inside. Heat bloomed in her belly, sending tendrils to all points north and south. She’d had him in her sex, but this... This almost rivaled that in intimacy. Though she knelt before him in a submissive position, she’d never felt more powerful. Especially when his fingertips dug into her scalp and his hips jerked. Especially when his breath hissed out. She, curling her tongue around him, sucking and licking, had him at her mercy. And as often as she’d been swept along by his fierce passion, feeling like a leaf carried away on furious rapids, it was absolutely heady.
Hooking her fingers into the band of his boxers, she yanked, baring all of him. And she took swift, full advantage. He was heated steel in her hand, and as she fisted the thick bottom half of his dick, she couldn’t help but trace the light blue veins that traveled the long, wide column. Up, up, up to the tip again, where she swallowed him down, taking as much of him as she could. And what she couldn’t, she pumped in a steady, tight rhythm.
“Goddamn, baby girl,” he said, voice low. Pained. But she was achingly familiar with that agonized quality. It mirrored the one that he ripped out of her when he feasted on her. Now it was her turn...and his. “Your mouth. So sweet. Fuck, I can’t even look at you sucking on my cock like you’ve never had better.” Then he belied that statement by tracing a finger along her stretched lips. “Beautiful. So damn beautiful,” he grated, returning his hand to her head. His hold ta
utened, firmed. “Give it to me then. Take me like you mean it. Like you want it.”
His words unlocked something deep inside her. Freed her. Raising higher onto her knees, the last of her inhibitions disintegrated. She did just as he’d bid. Took him as she’d always fantasized. She left no part of him undiscovered—not the underside of the sensitive flared tip, not the pulsing, hot stalk, not the wide base or even the heavy sac of his testicles. And when she sucked him in again, not stopping until he nudged the narrow channel of her throat, she exulted in his snarl of pleasure. She repeated it, allowing him to breach her, claiming another of those dark rumbles as her own.
“Enough,” he barked, holding her head still and dragging free of her mouth.
Before she could protest, he grabbed her arms, yanking her to her feet. Then steadying her with a hand to the back of her neck and his hungry mouth on hers when she swayed. She wrapped her legs around him as he lifted her and carried her to the couch. Once more, she found herself off-kilter when he abruptly broke off their kiss and jerked down her skirt and panties. Their breath—hers soft and his harsh—broke on the air as he removed his wallet from his pants before pushing them down and off. In seconds, he liberated a condom from the billfold, and a “We don’t need that,” leaped to her tongue.
But at the last second, she caged it. Just as she’d done the other times they’d had sex in these last three weeks. If they were a normal man and wife, they wouldn’t need the protection. But they weren’t normal. She was pregnant with another man’s baby, and he was still in love with his dead wife—his true wife. So no, she didn’t ask him to come inside her bare. Even if the condom left her feeling as if she would never be good enough for him. She tried to uproot the seed of resentment it sowed.
Instead, she focused on his big hands as he sheathed himself. Allowed the passion to overwhelm everything else, silence it. Which, with a very naked Cole standing before her, fisting his dick, was an easy thing to do.
