by Jami Alden
Cole held up a silencing hand. “You didn’t drag me into anything. I made my bed when I decided to give you confidential information.”
“And I want you to know how much I appreciate that,” Megan said. “I know I haven’t exactly been generous with my gratitude—”
“Can we just drop it for now?” Cole said wearily. “I don’t really feel like dwelling on the fact that I’m pissing away a fifteen-year career.”
Megan slumped in her seat as they turned down her block. He parked in front of her driveway and led the way up the stairs to her flat. When she went to unlock the door, he took the key from her hand. He opened the door slowly, and Megan jumped back when a gun seemed to appear out of thin air into his hand.
“What are you doing?” she whispered.
He raised a finger to his lips and hit her with a glare. “He knows you. He most likely knows where you live. I’m not taking any chances.” He motioned for her to wait while he did a sweep of the apartment, then beckoned her inside.
“Um, okay, I guess that means you can go now.” Megan wrapped her arms around herself and forced back a shudder. Despite the tension between them, she didn’t exactly relish spending a night alone.
“Are you kidding me?” Cole looked at her like she’d just lost about forty IQ points. “You’re not staying here.” He moved down the hall to her room. Without asking, he rummaged through her closet until he found a small duffel bag. He tossed it on the bed. “Pack enough to hold you for at least a few days. You’re coming home with me.”
They drove to his house in silence so thick it was like a physical presence between them in the car. She’d tried to convince him to take her to a hotel, reminding him how it would look to Lieutenant Chin and the rest of the review board if they knew she spent the night at his house, but he completely bulldozed over her protests. Short of making a break for it and trying to elude him, Megan didn’t see that she had much choice.
And really, after what had happened, she knew she wouldn’t feel safe alone, even in a hotel with the dead bolt thrown. Knowing Cole stood between her and the psycho who had tried to kill her made her feel secure in a way that she hadn’t in a very long time. She warned herself to be careful with Cole—she’d made the mistake of reading too much into his actions before and got burned for it.
But tonight, she wanted to lean into him and let him chase all her demons away.
Cole turned down his street in his development and drove past a row of nearly identical houses. He pulled into his garage, grabbed her bag, and walked into the house without a word. She followed and watched as he tossed her bag onto the couchont sizs place hadn’t changed at all in the nearly three years since she’d seen it. The same plain coffee table and leather sofa. He’d upsized his flat-screen TV, but there was still no art on the plain, off-white walls.
The place was devoid of personality, without so much as a book or stray DVD to hint at the interests of the man who lived here. On the handful of occasions she’d been over here while they were dating, she’d entertained stupid fantasies of how she might enliven the décor when she moved in with him.
She shoved away the tug of sadness that she’d never had the opportunity. That his house had remained as boring and sterile as it had been the last time she saw it. Like his life had gotten just as stuck as hers.
And there’s obviously not any woman coming around to put her feminine touch on things.
Not that she cared, she told herself firmly as she walked into Cole’s living room. Still, it was hard to forget what had happened the last time they were alone together.
After the last adrenaline-fueled hours, she was suddenly so drained she could barely keep on her feet. She sank into the leather armchair and felt like she could close her eyes and sleep for the next forty-eight hours.
Cole’s voice roused her. “I’ve set up the spare room as an office, so I don’t have a real guest room.” He rubbed his hand wearily against the back of his neck. “You take my bed and I’ll take the couch.”
Her? Sleep in his bed? His stuff, his sheets, his scent all around her. “Absolutely not. You’re almost a foot taller than me—you won’t even fit on the couch.”
“I’m not going to debate it, Megan.”
She pushed herself up from the chair. “I don’t want to put you out. I can stay at a hotel for a few days—”
“Right, and you’ll be out on your own trying to find the guy who attacked us today. You really think I’m going to let you out of my sight?”
She swallowed, wincing at the ache in her throat. “What else do you expect me to do? Sit around and twiddle my thumbs and wait for Sean’s execution date? I’m out of options, Cole.”
He shook his head. “If you decide to go off half-cocked over another barely there lead, I’m gonna be with you. And you’re staying here. No negotiation. And while you’re staying here, take the fucking bedroom.” He turned his back on her and went into the kitchen, where she could hear him rooting around the refrigerator like a bear in a garbage can.
She followed him, protesting. “You don’t have to do this. I’ll be fine on my own.” After what happened today, she wasn’t sure about that at all, but she could feel herself starting to lean on Cole and it was feeling a little too good.
He whirled around on her, so fast she took a startled step back, stopping only when the ridge of the countertop dug into the small of her back.
Streaks of angry color stained his high cheekbones, and his eyes were molten with fury. “Goddamn it! After what happened today, could you just stop fucking arguing with every goddamn thing I say? You almost died today, Megan! And for what? A fucking note on a scrap of paper!”
She swallowed, wincing at the ache in her throat. He was pulled tight, every sinew coiled with tension, like he didn’t know whether to kiss her or shake her. She broke her stare, unable to look at him, knowing he was right. Knowing she had put her life and his career at risk for a barely solid lead.
The memory of her attacker’s fingers digging into her windpipe sent a shiver of fear down her spine. “I had to take that chance. Don’t you understand? Unless Sean changes his mind, he’ll be dead in five days. I have to do something, no matter how crazy or far-fetched it seems.”
He moved closer, so close she could feel the heat of his thigh muscles against her hips, and planted his palms on the counter on either side of her hips. “You could have died.”
Her pulse throbbed in her throat at the feel of his hot breath on her cheek. She dropped her gaze from his face and struggled to get her traitorous body back under control. “I think that would make your life easier, wouldn’t it? Get me out of your hair once and for all.” Her weak attempt at lightening the mood backfired. Now he was even angrier, his dark eyes practically spitting fire.
“Don’t even fucking joke about that!”
Before she had time to react, his mouth was on hers, hungry, desperate as his lips crushed hers. God he felt good, strong and powerful. Heat exploded in her veins, and just like that, she melted into a puddle at the first touch. Helplessly, she parted her lips to drink him in, suck his tongue into her mouth, tangle it with hers.
His kiss immediately gentled, and he pulled away, cradling her face in his hands as he whispered again, “Don’t even fucking joke about that.” Soft, nipping kisses rained on her mouth and cheeks. “Do you have any idea how it felt to walk in that room and see you…” His voice broke, and a shudder rippled through him. “I’m going to have nightmares for the rest of my life, thinking about what would have happened if I hadn’t shown up in time.”
He kissed her again. “I can’t stand the thought of anything happening to you. It kills me that he touched you, that you were hurt. So don’t ask me to leave you alone, not when I’d cut my own arm off if it kept you from getting hurt.”
Before she could absorb what that implied, Cole leaned closer, pressing her into the counter. Unable to stop herself, she wrapped her arms around his waist, then jerked away when he let out a hiss of p
ain.
Megan jerked back to reality. She wasn’t the only one who had gotten hurt today. This was so crazy; they were both riding high, their resistance pummeled by adrenaline and fear. She couldn’t give in. “This is a really bad idea.”
In the past, he would have played the good guy and backed off at the first sign of resistance. Hell, more often than not, he’d been the one to stop them in their tracks. How many times had he pulled away, telling her that he didn’t want to move too fast, that he didn’t want to push her into anything she wasn’t ready for?
Until she was so ready she could barely see straight, only to have reality come crashing down all around her.
But Cole didn’t budge. “Actually, I think this is the best idea I’ve had in a really long time.” His big hands cupped her face, holding her still as he took her mouth.
She’d had a taste of this Cole a few days ago. The one who didn’t try to fight the lust no matter how they might kick themselves later. Relentless. Determined.
He pulled her hair to the side and sucked her earlobe into his mouth, a touch that sent a jolt of heat to her core. She made a last grasp for sanity. “This is so stupid, after everything.” She bit her lip on a moan as his big palm squeezed her breast through her shirt. “You know this can’t go anywhere.”
“I’m so fucking tired,” he muttered as his tongue traced her bruised throat, “of thinking about what happened before and what’s going to happen after.” He pulled his head up and stared at her as his hands undid the top button of her blouse. Then another.
Daring her to stop him.
God, why does he make me so weak?
“All I know is that I want you, Megan. I’ve wanted you every day for nearly three years. I buried it, and I could keep you out of my mind most days. But ever since I saw you again, it’s like this ache, eating away at me until I can’t think of anything but kissing you, touching you.” He gave her breast a squeeze that sent sparks singing through every nerve ending. “And being inside you,” he said, closing his eyes, his voice so deep and reverent it made her ache with need. “You have no idea how bad I want to be inside you.”
Her pulse throbbed between her legs. Oh yeah, she had a pretty good idea. And it was getting more difficult to resist by the second as he whispered hot, dirty things he wanted to do to her, all the ways he’d imagined having her.
So different from how he’d been before. Back when they’d dated, he’d been reserved. Careful not to reveal too much. Cautious of moving too fast. And when everything had gone to hell, he’d been quick to deny that what he’d felt for her was serious.
Now all the barriers were coming down as he told her in no uncertain terms what he wanted and how. “You almost died today.” His whisper was almost accusing. “You could have died, and I would never have been able to touch you again.” His fingers traced her cheeks; his lips nipped at hers like he couldn’t get enough, couldn’t stop touching her, tasting her. “Just one night,” he pleaded. “Just one night where I don’t have to think about anything but how much I want you, how good I’m going to make you feel.”
He slid his hand between her legs, cupping her sex through her jeans. “You do want that, don’t you, Megan?” As though he couldn’t feel the heat and dampness of her sex through the fabric. One finger ran against the seam of her pants, pressing against her clit until it was all she could do to keep her legs from buckling under her.
God, yes. But a cliuld do was moan into his mouth as his finger circled her, teasing her through the suddenly constrictive fabric of her jeans.
This is so wrong. She tried desperately to remind herself of all the reasons why nothing good could come of giving in.
Her protests evaporated like mist as he popped the button on her jeans and buzzed her zipper down. His hand slid into the waistband of her panties. Thick, callused fingers pressed against her, the firm pressure of his fingertips against her clit almost enough to make her come right then and there.
His breath hitched in his chest as he delved farther, until his fingertip teased her opening. “God, you’re so wet. Jesus, you do want me.”
If his tone had been at all smug, she would have shoved him away. Kneed him in the balls and locked herself in his bedroom all night. He sounded… wondrous… like he was the luckiest man in the world to have her want him.
His euphoria was infectious. Just one night, a reckless, needful voice urged her. After everything she’d been through, everything she’d sacrificed, didn’t she deserve this? One night of pleasure with the man who had haunted her dreams for the past three years? One night to finally know, after years of wondering, wanting, needing, how it would feel to be taken by this man who wanted her so much.
And who you want right back. She rocked her hips against his hand and shoved his shirt up his waist. He released her mouth as she yanked his shirt over his head, and she moaned a protest when he pulled his hand from her panties. Their fingers tangled as they both rushed to remove their own and each other’s clothing. The kitchen echoed with the sounds of panting breath, wet kisses, and pleasured moans.
Within seconds they were naked, the hot press of Cole’s skin against hers driving her crazy. The rough dusting of hair on his chest teased her nipples to painful hardness. Every nerve ending was on high alert, buzzing with arousal so acute it bordered on pain. Her hands and mouth were everywhere, reveling in every patch of hot, smooth skin, the salty taste of him on her tongue, his woods-and-musk scent wrapping around her.
His cock pressed against her belly, thick as a club and just as hard. She wrapped her hand around it, her mouth going a little dry as she measured his substantial length. Smiling against his mouth, she swallowed his shuddering groan.
She stroked him harder, loving the way he felt in her hand. Hot, velvety soft skin over marble hardness. Thick and pulsing with life. As she watched, mesmerized, a thick bead of precome welled to the surface. An answering rush of moisture pulsed between her legs.
“I want you so much. I don’t think I can go slow,” Cole said, and she could feel the tremor in his hands as he lifted her onto the countertop and stepped between her legs. He was shaking like a racehorse, his every muscle standing out in sharp relief as his body went taut with rapidly dwindling restraint.
Megan leaned back, bracing herself with one hand, the other still stroking his cock. “It’s okay,” she panted, so turned on she could barely see straight. “I don’t need slow. I need you.”
He groaned, hooked her leg over his hip and wrapped his hand around hers. She licked her lips in anticipation as he rubbed the thick head against her, parting her lips, circling her clit as he bathed himself in her juice. It was the most erotic thing she’d ever seen, both their hands circled around his cock, guiding him up, down, around her slippery flesh until they were both shaking with need.
But it was nothing compared to how he felt, squeezing inside, the broad head of his cock stretching her until she danced on the edge of pleasure and pain. His hips rocked forward, sinking him halfway, and he paused at her sharp gasp.
“I’m sorry, baby. You’re just so tight, and you feel so good.” He squeezed his eyes shut, his face a mask of agonized pleasure. But he held himself there, perfectly still as he waited for her to adjust around him.
“It’s okay,” she whispered.
He bent his head and closed his mouth over her nipple, the hot suction making her jerk against him, taking him a little deeper. He didn’t move his hips as his lips, tongue, and teeth teased her agonizingly sensitive nipples, sucking, licking, biting, until she couldn’t stand it anymore.
She rocked her hips, moaning his name as every thrust took him a little deeper.
“That’s it, Megan,” he breathed. “Show me how you want it. Show me what you need.”
Her inner muscles tightened around him, greedy for him as she rocked harder. Finally, finally, he was buried to the hilt, filling her up, deeper than anyone had ever been before.
He pulled almost all the way out and squeezed sl
owly back in, one heart-stopping inch at a time. He pulled his mouth from her breasts and pressed his forehead against hers, his eyes cast down, his face tight with concentration as he watched his cock sink into her. Over and over, so slow and so deep, until she felt like she was going to burst out of her skin.
She needed more. She threaded the fingers of one hand through his hair and tugged his mouth back up to hers. She sucked his tongue into her mouth and slid her other hand down to grip the hard muscle of his butt, urging him harder, faster.
She leaned back on the counter, bracing herself against his thrusts as she wrapped her legs tighter around him. The lust coiled inside her like a spring, tighter and tighter until she was moaning and shaking with the need for release. “Oh God, Cole,” she moaned, needing something, needing him. His thick cock sank into her, his hands roughly gripping her hips as he held her still to take him and take him and take him.
He stared down at her, his face tight with need as he slid his hand between them and pressed his thumb against her clit. Tight circles, firm brushes up and down in time with the heavy thrust and drag of his cock.
Sharp sounds she didn’t even recognize as hers erupted from her throat as he drove her higher. Then she was shaking, shuddering, coming around him, so hard she could feel her inner muscles squeezing and releasing him. The ripples of her orgasm radiated out from her core in waves, sizzling through her limbs and making even the soles of her feet tingle.
Cole wasn’t far behind. A bead of sweat trickled down his cheek as he threw his head back. An agonized groan tore from his chest, and then he was holding himself deep, jerking and spurting inside her.
Cole’s heart hadn’t stopped thundering against his ribs, his breath barely slowed, before he felt her stiffen against him. The last ripples of her orgasm had barely faded and already the gears of her brain were churning so hard he could practically hear them as regret tried to worm its way in and ruin the afterglow.
