“Yes. And in my bed.”
“What did you do while you thought about it?”
“You know what I did.”
Rising onto my tiptoes, I put my lips to his ear. “Do it now. Let me watch.”
He went still. “You want to watch?”
I nodded and took his earlobe between my teeth, tugging gently, then kissed my way down his throat.
A groan rumbled in his chest and he squeezed my ass again. “There are so many things I want to do to you. And we have so little time.”
“Please,” I said breathlessly, pushing back from him. “Let me watch you. Even if it’s just for a minute.”
He stood still beneath the spray for a moment, arms at his sides, steam rising around him. I held my breath. With one hand, he reached up and placed a palm on the tiles. With the other, he fisted his cock.
My mouth fell open as I took it all in—his hot wet skin, the muscles in his arms and abs flexing, his midnight-blue eyes fixed on me, the hard set of his jaw, that massive dick sliding through his hand.
He went slower than I’d expected—nothing frantic or aggressive in his movement. He gripped himself hard but worked his arm and hand in sensual, fluid motions, fist up and down the length of his shaft, palm circling the crown, fingers gliding over the tip. I’d never in my life thought of a guy’s erection as beautiful before, but Cole had a gorgeous cock—there was no other way to describe it.
His hand began to move faster, and his breathing changed. It grew louder, heavier, his stomach muscles were clenching tight. “Tell me what you want,” he said, his voice low and raspy.
I dropped to my knees in front of him. Put my hands on his thighs. “I want to taste you.”
He grimaced, almost like he was angry, but angled himself toward my mouth. Rubbed the tip of his cock on my lips. “You’re making me crazy.”
“Good.” I swirled my tongue around his crown, and he moaned, moving his hands into my wet hair. Taking his shaft in both hands, I licked him with broad, decadent strokes, like I was determined to taste every last inch of him—and there were many. I slipped the first two in my mouth and sucked, making him curse. I moved my lips down a couple more, feeling his hands curl into fists, pulling my hair tight. I took him as deeply as I dared, letting him hit the back of my throat and lingering there for just a moment, angling my head this way and that.
“Fuck yes,” he growled, hips flexing slightly, his body instinctively trying to go deeper.
I pulled back and took a breath, then took him to the back of my throat again, using my hands on what I couldn’t work between my lips. By no means was I experienced at this, but all I wanted to do was please him, and every sound he made, every quick inhale of breath, every twitch of his cock in my mouth made me feel like a fucking blowjob queen. I could taste him—salty and sweet.
“Stop,” he said suddenly, pulling back from me, taking himself from my mouth. “You have to stop.”
“But I don’t want to.” I looked up at him pleadingly. “Let me finish.”
“Some other time.” He reached beneath my arms and pulled me to my feet. “Believe me, if we had all day and all night, I’d beg to come like that, with your mouth on my cock.”
“Then let me—”
He silenced me with a hot, demanding kiss, his tongue slashing between my lips, his hands sliding over my hips. “Right now, there’s something I want more.”
“What?” I whispered.
He spun me to face the wall. Pressed me against it. Put his mouth at my ear. “I want to make you come with it.” His hands skated around to my stomach, one moving up, one going down. The hot, solid length of his erection pushed against my lower back.
“But you did. Three times already.”
“Shh. I’ll never get enough. Now spread your legs.”
I braced two hands on the tiles and did as he asked, panting as he worked his fingers between my thighs. His mouth traveled down my neck and shoulder, and his other hand covered one breast. His fingertips moved expertly over my clit, as if he’d learned exactly what I liked in the space of just one night. First slowly and lightly, then firmer and more insistent. He dipped inside me then licked his fingers, returning them to my swollen sweet spot and caressing me in a way that made it feel like his tongue.
In less than a minute, I was rocking against his hand, about to explode, desperate to feel his cock inside me. “Cole,” I whispered. “Do it. Make me come again.”
The low rumble from his throat—something between a laugh and a moan—twisted the tension in me even tighter. I leaned forward, pressing my cheek against the cool tiles, arching my back. He placed a palm between my shoulder blades and dragged it down my spine. “Your fucking body,” he growled. “I want to do such bad things to it.”
“Cole,” I pleaded. “I’m so close.”
A second later, he was pushing inside me, and I rested my forehead against the wall, my mouth open, my eyes shut tight against the twinge of pain. He was rougher than he’d been last night, thrusting into me with deep, hard strokes. I cried out at the peak of each one, but he didn’t slow down or let up. It reminded me of the night he’d called me and talked me right into an orgasm—it was him, but it was a side of him he didn’t show very often. Something private and intense.
He reached between my legs again and rubbed me like he had before, and the touch was like setting off fireworks inside me, my body erupting in glorious, pounding, bursts. Behind me, Cole grabbed my hips and held me still as my core muscles spasmed around him, and I could feel the throb of his cock as his orgasm moved through his body and into mine.
The first thing I became aware of was the sound of the water. Then the hard tile under my hands and beneath my forehead. Then my heavy breathing. Cole’s arms came around me, and I opened my eyes.
“You okay?” he asked.
“I think so.” I touched my forehead. “I might have grout lines etched in my skin.”
He chuckled, dropping a kiss on my shoulder before gently pulling out of me. “Let me see.”
I faced him, wrinkling my nose. “Well?”
Taking my face in his hands, he pretended to examine it. “You take my breath away. Just like always.”
I smiled. “Good, because I’ll need to distract people with my face this morning so they don’t notice I’m walking funny and can hardly sit down.”
He laughed. “Sorry.”
I poked his chest. “Liar.”
He took one of my hands in both of his and kissed my fingers. “Was I too rough?”
“No. I liked it—it’s a different side of you.” I looked at his hands and noticed again that he wasn’t wearing his ring. The question was on the tip of my tongue, but I bit it back.
He saw me looking at his fingers and understood. “It’s okay. You can ask.”
I met his eyes. “Did you forget?”
He shook his head, a smile on his lips. “Nope. I put it on out of habit, and then I took it off on purpose. I’ve thought about no one but you for months, Cheyenne. I was thinking about you when I got dressed. And I knew I was going to go after you, try to make you understand. I didn’t want to do that wearing the ring someone else put on my hand. I’m not married to her anymore.” He wrapped his arms around me and held me close. “And I want to be with you.”
I wound my arms around his waist and pressed my cheek to his chest. “That makes me happy. But if you feel like you should keep wearing the ring until you have a chance to talk through everything with Mariah, I’ll understand. I know she likes you to wear it.”
“You know, you’re making it really easy to fall in love with you. Are you doing that on purpose?”
I laughed, blissfully happy. “Yes.”
* * *
We decided it would be better to meet at breakfast than to walk in together, and ended up sitting at different tables. I sat with my mom, Griffin and Blair, and Cole was seated with Mariah, his mom, and Moretti. But we exchanged enough secretive glances that Blair pulled me asi
de while everyone was leaving the restaurant.
“Oh my God, what is happening?” she whispered frantically, her eyes darting over my shoulder. “Never mind, I know what’s happening—or at least what happened. You slept with Cole!”
“Shhhh.” Taking her arm, I tugged her into the lobby, away from where Cole and Mariah were chatting with Mr. and Mrs. Moretti. “Keep your voice down.”
“Is it true?”
I faced her, unable to hide a smile. “Yes.”
She gasped, then jumped up and down, squealing and fluttering her hands. “I can’t believe it! And yet I can!”
“How did you know?”
“Number one, because it was inevitable. Two, because you guys were both conspicuously absent from the bar last night. And three, because you guys have been staring at each other the whole weekend, but this morning, instead of these longing, I-wish-we-could type looks, it’s more like oh-yes-we-did-and-it-was-fucking-awesome.”
“It was fucking awesome,” I confirmed.
“I’m so happy for you guys,” she gushed. “So how did it happen? Not the physical part, I get that, but did he say anything? Like, what made you change your mind from the night before?”
“He showed up at my door and demanded I let him in. He had to put his hand over my mouth to get me to stop talking so he could apologize, and then he told me he had feelings for me.”
“Eeeep!” Blair clapped her hands. “So it wasn’t just a one-time thing?”
“No,” I said, shaking my head, still amazed. “He wants to be with me. He said it out loud.”
Blair’s face melted like she’d just seen a cute kitten, and she put a hand over her heart. “I’m so happy for you guys. So are you going to move into his new house with him?”
“What? No!” I laughed, shaking my head. “Jesus, give us a minute!”
“Sorry, I’ve got wedding brain. I’m in happily-ever-after mode right now.”
“Well, you’ll have to adjust your expectations for Cole and me, because we can’t really even go public until he talks to Mariah.”
Blair waved a hand in front of her face. “Easy peasy. Mariah is crazy about you.”
“That’s because I’ve never been a threat to her before. Kids take these things seriously, and Mariah is sensitive about Cole. He and I both agree we need to be gentle with her.”
“I think you should get married next summer,” Blair went on, as if I hadn’t said anything. “Maybe outside at one of those old mansions on Center Avenue that’s not a Bed & Breakfast. Or, oh! Oh! How about at the Beale’s lavender farm?”
“Blair. Listen to me.” I put my hands on her shoulders. “You need to calm down. I’m happy right now. The ever after can wait.”
She sighed. “Fine.” Then she took my arm as we started to walk back toward the restaurant, where Griffin was waiting for her. “But just in case, I think we should check the calendar at that lavender farm. I bet they book up early for the summer.”
“Blair.”
“I know, I know. I heard you. Ever after can wait.”
“Thank you.”
The truth was, of course, I was just as anxious as Blair to move forward with ever after. My God, I’d loved him all this time, and now that he’d said he wanted to be with me, it was as if every last dream I’d ever dreamed was coming true. But I’d meant what I said to Cole too—I could be patient. Reassuring Mariah that I wasn’t a threat to her or even to her mother’s memory was the most important thing we could do at this point.
And I was more than willing to play a role in that, but I knew it had to come from Cole first. I’d follow his lead. In the meantime, I’d enjoy the memories from this weekend and savor any stolen moments we could manage in the days to come.
Someday, I hoped we wouldn’t have to steal them at all.
* * *
He texted me as I was about to leave my room and check out.
Cole: We’re heading out. Please drive carefully and let me know when you get home.
Me: I will. You do the same, okay?
Cole: Okay.
I waited for a moment, hoping for something a little more intimate and personal, but no more messages arrived. I stuck my phone in my bag, grabbed my garment bag and roller suitcase, and took a last look at the room I’d always think of as ours.
“We’ll come back sometime,” I whispered, a promise to myself. “Together.”
I took the elevator down to the lobby—the memory of Cole’s kiss in there making my stomach cartwheel—and spotted my mother at the desk. As I was making my way over there, I heard Mariah calling my name.
“Miss Cheyenne!” she cried, running toward me and throwing her arms around my waist. She was all bundled up already. “Are you leaving now too?”
“Yes,” I said, laughing as I nearly lost my balance.
“I don’t want to go home. I love it here.” She pouted, looking around the lobby.
“Me too,” I said. “I was just thinking a minute ago that I already want to come back.”
“Yes! And next time, let’s come in the summer so we can ride the horses!”
“Sounds good to me,” I told her.
Cole appeared over her shoulder, wearing his winter gear. He’d clearly been outside already, because his nose and cheeks were pink. “Hey.”
“Hi,” I said, knowing my cheeks were flushed with pink now too.
“Car’s out front, Mariah. I already loaded it and we’re taking up a spot, so let’s get Grandma and hurry.” Cole pulled off his gloves and hat. “She’s over there by the door. Can you help her with her bags?”
“Okay.” Mariah gave me one last squeeze. “Bye, Miss Cheyenne.”
“Bye, honey.” I patted her puffy jacket.
She took off running toward her grandmother, and I stood face to face with Cole. “Cold out there?”
“Yeah.” He glanced outside and spoke quietly. “I wish I didn’t know anyone in this lobby.”
I smiled. “What would you do?”
He met my eyes. “I’d kiss you.”
“I’d like that.”
“Someday,” he said, giving me that lopsided grin I loved. “Anyway, I better get a move on. Drive safe.”
“I will.”
He tugged his gloves on as he walked away, and my breath hitched.
The ring was back on his finger.
Seventeen
Cole
I was behind the wheel, my eyes on the road, my mind lost in memories of Cheyenne, when my mother’s voice suddenly registered.
“Huh?” I straightened up in the driver’s seat and took another sip of my coffee.
“Cole Mitchell, have you heard a word I said?”
“Which word? You’ve said about a million of them since we left Cloverleigh Farms.”
“Very funny. I was just saying how pretty the centerpieces were. Didn’t you think so?”
“Sure.” Truthfully, I couldn’t even recall them.
“And the food was so good.”
“Yeah.” Had I eaten it? The only thing I remembered tasting last night had not been on the table.
“I think Mariah ate three pieces of cake.” My mother laughed, glancing into the back seat, where Mariah had fallen asleep. “She was on a sugar high for hours after that. I wasn’t sure I’d ever get her into bed!”
I sipped my coffee again, feeling a little guilty that my mother had been left to deal with my daughter while I’d gone to Cheyenne’s room for an all-night fuck fling. “Thanks for watching her.”
“Oh, my pleasure.” She sighed again. “Such a wonderful night. Did you enjoy yourself?”
“Yes.”
“Cheyenne looked beautiful, didn’t she?”
I swallowed more coffee. “Yes.”
“Darlene said she’s not seeing anyone.”
She saw a hell of a lot of me last night, I thought. “No, I don’t think she is.”
“You two looked very sweet on the dance floor together.”
“Mm.”
> “And I was thinking, maybe you might, you know, enjoy each other’s company.”
“Maybe.” I hid my smile behind my cup. We had definitely enjoyed each other’s company last night. In many positions.
“Look, I know it’s none of my business and you don’t like being told what to do, but I just want to say one thing.”
“Okay.”
“When I was pregnant with you, I was scared.”
“Huh. That’s not where I thought you were heading at all. Are you worried I’m pregnant?”
“Don’t be a smartass. I was scared, because I worried I didn’t have enough love for two kids. I worried about loving Greg less once you came along.”
“Are you finally admitting I’m your favorite?”
“But then I learned something,” she went on, ignoring me. “When you have a second child, you don’t love the first any less. You make more room in your heart.”
I snorted. “Did you read that on a fortune cookie?”
She exhaled sharply. “You’re so exasperating. My point is that you might think falling in love again isn’t possible, but it is. You’ve got a big heart, Cole. There’s room.”
I didn’t say anything.
“Lightning can strike the same place twice, if you let it,” she went on. “But you can’t be afraid.”
“Are you suggesting I run out on the golf course wielding a large metal object?”
“Yes. Figuratively speaking, I am.”
I grinned and lifted my coffee cup again. “If it shuts you up, I’ll consider it.”
It worked—she remained quiet the rest of the way home—but I kept hearing her words in my head. Even though I knew she’d been half-joking, something she said had burrowed into my brain and taken root.
You can’t be afraid.
Why was it bothering me?
I wasn’t afraid. That wasn’t it at all. I was only concerned for my daughter. It was Mariah’s fears that needed calming, not my own. It was Mariah who associated love with loss, not me. It was Mariah who was terrified that something bad would happen. It was Mariah who needed protecting from it all.
Make Me Yours: The Bellamy Creek Series Page 19
