by Lexi Scott
I found out there were people around me who cared all along, who wanted to help me and see me succeed. Professors, co-workers, support staff…
And my willingness to reach out and get help all started because of Cohen.
I haven’t spoken to him since the day I left my father’s apartment. I threw my life back on track. I’ve checked off almost every box on my Fresh Start Checklist. I only have one more to go.
The hardest one.
“There’s a new collection, Leathers and Chains, in this month’s catalog. I’ll comp you a few pieces, you invite that big, sexy man to your place, and you’ve got it in the bag,” Jacinda advises when I get to work.
I swivel in my chair and raise an eyebrow at her. “I’m honestly glad you’re the kinky sex toy kingpin of Silver Strand, but I don’t think bondage is going to be the key to fixing things.”
“You underestimate how much guys like being cuffed and dominated. Trust me, I know,” she says with a wink. “I’ll bring you a box of the good stuff!” she calls before I can tell her I really, really don’t need her sex toys.
I do need something to win Cohen back. Luckily it’s a slow day at work, all my schoolwork is done, and I have time to think through a plan.
I take out a sketchpad and some pencils and start to draw a map.
Cohen loves maps and treasure hunts and adventure in general. I mark places we’ve been together—the baseball stadium, the beach where we surfed, the magical little Mexican place he took me that day we met when I was sketching on the beach, hoping he’d show up. And then I plot other places—museums, miniature golf courses, hiking trails, aquariums. It takes me all day to map it out, and when I’m done, I’m pretty proud of myself.
No, it’s not kinky handcuffs— It’s not like I’d never want to cuff Cohen to a bed and have my way with him. It’s just I don’t want him to think what we had was all about sex. Ever.
When I get home, I pick up the guitar I’ve been learning to play and strum out a few chords, working until too late in the night to match them up to the lyrics I’ve been writing and rewriting. I crash late and wake up extra early, blinking in the sunshine of my dorm room.
I’m excited for this day, my day off, the day I’m going to make some big changes. For the first time in so long, things feel right.
I write a quick letter to my dad, letting him know I’m also super proud of him and that I’d really like to be pen pals. We’re going to have to move slow, but there’s hope it might work out after all.
And then I seal the map up with a list of clues and head to Rodriguez Family Furnishings. I know it’s Cohen’s last month working from talking to Genevieve. I know I’m running a risk going there at all, but I have to stop being so damn scared all the time and just do this. I run to his car, tuck the map under his windshield, and peel away. When I look back, I see him heading out of the building at the end of his shift.
I will myself to go to the last destination on our map and pull out my phone.
Maren: Hello stranger.
I tuck my phone back in my pocket ready to wait a while to hear from him. Or, maybe, never hear back at all. I hope this doesn’t blow up in my face. I hope he doesn’t wind up disgusted or irritated or just plain uninterested. I’m not sure I’ve ever felt more vulnerable in my life.
Please, please let this work…
Cohen: Hello yourself. Was thinking about you today.
Cohen: Okay, no bullshit? I’ve been thinking about you every single day since the last day I saw you. I was a little shocked when I got to my car…
Maren: Shocked like you informed the police you have a stalker?
Cohen: Shocked like I’m incredibly happy. I was hoping I didn’t ruin things completely a few weeks back.
Maren: You didn’t ruin anything. I’m sorry I couldn’t get back to you for a while. I had some things to straighten out.
Cohen: And did it work?
Maren: It did. Not perfectly, and it’s still kind of a work in progress.
Cohen: All the best things are, though.
Maren: Did you find the map?
Cohen: I’m on the way to the first stop…
Maren: I hope you like what you find.
Cohen: So I thought going back to the Mexican place where I got thrown up on would be traumatizing, but the hostess gave me the package…
Maren: And?
Cohen: Margarita mix and a very, very sexy black leather getup for you…
Maren: I thought we could take the best parts of that night and let it play out a little differently. Are you ready for stop number two?
Cohen: I’m ready to come find you and beg you to put this on for me…
Maren: The other stops are worth it!
Cohen: I trust you.
Cohen: Just swung by Jacinda’s. She told me how epic that party was the night we talked. Sounds like you missed out being on the phone with me.
Maren: Maybe I did. Maybe you have a chance to make it up to me. Did you open the package?
Cohen: A police uniform and cuffs…? What exactly do you have in mind?
Maren: I’ve been a very naughty girl, Officer Rodriguez.
Maren: Cohen?
Cohen: Sexting with you is making for unsafe driving conditions, Maren. The blood is definitely draining away from my brain…
Maren: ;)
Cohen: I will be more than glad to make up for the striptease you missed.
Maren: Oh really?
Cohen: I’m half Mexican, baby. I can dance like you wouldn’t believe.
Maren: LOL! So I get a private Rodriguez show?
Cohen: All for you, all night long…
Cohen: At stop number three. Kona gave me a package and told me I shouldn’t do anything she wouldn’t do. LOL.
Maren: This one is less risqué…
Cohen: Maren, is this you singing?
Maren: I recorded it last night. You don’t have to listen to the whole thing.
Cohen: I never want to listen to anything else.
Cohen: You wrote this?! This is amazing.
Cohen: Is this about us…?
Maren: What do you think?
Cohen: I think I love this song.
Maren: Kinda cheesy, right?
Cohen: Kind of blowing my mind. You’re incredible.
Maren: I wanted to say I’m sorry for running. And thank you for being there for me. I hope we can work things out. I miss you so much.
Cohen: You have no reason to miss me. I’m right here. Let’s work things out now.
I look up, my eyes wide, and Cohen is at the beach by his house where I was sketching/stalking him.
Stalking seems to be a theme with me.
“Cohen,” I breathe. How is it possible he looks even more incredible than he did three weeks ago? His black hair is just a little longer, so it looks kind of messy. He’s usually so in control; a mess looks really good on him. “I’m glad you came.”
“I followed your map,” he says, holding it up.
I blush, embarrassed now.
“I, um, heard you’d be moving in a month. And I wanted to see if you’d want to spend some time having, you know…adventures. With me. I mapped out places we could get to pretty quickly all over Silver Strand. I thought… Something can be right in front of you, but you never appreciate it until it’s not there anymore,” I stumble. He’s looking right at me, his dark eyes zeroing in. “I want to experience Silver Strand with you, before you leave. And then, when you come back, maybe we could do it all again, and you can see it with new eyes. And I wanted to, ahem, relive some of the memories we had together before you leave.”
“You’d wait for me?” he asks, his voice husky.
“I’ll always be here for you,” I tell him. “I owe you so much. And I don’t want to just say thank you. I want to show you.”
“I want to use everything in those packages with you. I want to do everything on your map,” he says, his voice tight. “I want to do it all. With you. Because, I know it s
ounds corny, but you make everything feel like an adventure, Maren. I don’t want to waste another second without you.”
“I feel the same way,” I say, my voice wobbling.
“The song…” He clears his throat. “Was that just artistic license, or did you mean what you said?”
“I’ve been hoping, I’ve been wishing, To know your heart is mine, for the rest of time, I owe you that and a thousand times more…” I sing shyly.
He grabs me around the waist and spins me until I can barely breathe from laughing so hard.
I grab him at the hips, my fingers digging into the bunched muscles of his abs, stand on my toes, drag his neck down, and kiss him, sweet and deep. His mouth opens, and he licks at me with a quick, hungry tongue. His arm curves under me, and he hikes me up, his hands hot as they slide over my back and around to the buttons on my tissue-paper blouse.
He kisses me quiet and moves his hips against me with quick, gentle thrusts. “My place?” he asks, his mouth sliding over my neck and drawing a long moan out of my throat.
“Anywhere you want. Any way you want. As long as I’m with you.”
I’m in Cohen’s arms, and that’s all that matters.
We run, hand in hand down the beach, until we get to the house that still takes my breath away. When we reach the front door, I have plans to head to his bedroom, but I get pulled into the living room for some reason.
I realize that the reason was a flash of color. A splash of teal.
“The rug.” I stand stock-still as Cohen kisses along my neck and down my shoulders.
“Mmmhmm,” he murmurs. “I snapped it up the minute it came in. You have awesome taste. In rugs and men, I might add.”
“You like it?” I pull back and his face looks confused.
“I love it. Though, to be fair, I’d probably love anything you picked.” He watches as I bend down and run my hand over it.
“It’s soft,” I whisper. “It’s beautiful. It fits here.”
“Like you.” He pulls me up and wraps his arms around my waist. “Soft. Beautiful. Fits here.”
“I didn’t say something I needed to say before.” I take his gorgeous face in my hands and smile because he’s so damn amazing and so completely mine—100 percent mine, no questions this time.
“Okay.” He grins and kisses my nose. “Say whatever you want.”
“I want to say thank you.” As soon as the words leave my mouth I feel a hundred times lighter. “Thank you.”
He kisses behind my ear. “You’re welcome. So welcome.” He clears his throat. “I noticed you eyeing the rug.”
My smile goes wicked at the suggestion in his voice. “It does seem really soft.” I back out of his arms and lie down, loving the starved way he eyes me from his vantage point, six feet plus above my body. His eyes tear over me like he wants me. Like he can’t get enough of me. Maybe, even, like he loves me.
“We’ll start here, then maybe work our way to the bedroom… And I’ll deliver on that striptease I promised.”
“You’re driving me crazy, officer.” I giggle.
“Oh, you have no idea how crazy we’re gonna get tonight.”
I close my eyes and listen to the jangle of his belt buckle, the whine of his zipper, the whoosh of his clothes hitting the floor.
“Wait a second,” he says.
As if there’s any other option. I’d wait a century for him.
He comes down the stairs, and I hear him tear the condom wrapper and imagine him rolling it on. I keep my eyes closed when he lies next to me, but I let my hands graze over every tight, hot, naked inch of his skin.
His fingers move slowly on me, stopping to stroke and touch my skin before he peels off my shirt and tugs me out of my skirt. His fingers hook and tug on my underwear and bra, and then it’s just me and Cohen on our teal rug, the crash of the ocean loud and perfect outside.
He pulls the back of his hand down my body, every rough bump and stroke making my breath catch.
“I was so happy you came back to me,” I whisper as his hand turns over and his fingertips tickle along my ribs. I open my eyes, and he’s looking down at me, a lazy smile on his lips.
“I wanted to call you a thousand times, but I also wanted to give you your space. When I saw that packet on my windshield, I thought I was going to have a heart attack.” He dips his head and kisses the skin just over my breasts, his lips leaving damp circles to mark where they’ve been.
“I’m sorry I pushed you away. I had to get my life in order before I came back to you,” I say, tracing my nails lightly down his back.
“Mmm,” he murmurs, licking and nuzzling every sensitive place he can find. “I’m tough. I don’t mind a little pushing from you.”
His hand slides down between my legs and presses them open. His fingers are light over my skin, but I still lift my hips and jerk against his touch. “I don’t want to push you away anymore.”
He sucks my bottom lip in and bites down on it gently. “Good.”
I reach down, grab his wrist, and press him closer, his finger sliding inside me and making my back arch. “I won’t push you away, Cohen. I promise.”
He dips his fingers in and pulls them back out, his rhythm dictating my breathing patterns, my heartbeat, and the pulse of my hips. He draws his fingers up and rings the bead of my clit, wetting it with his index finger and using his thumb to massage a pattern that has my spine arched off the rug, my hand reaching for the length of him.
My fingers circle around his dick, and I draw up, loving the way he sucks his breath in through his teeth. When I press back down, he pushes his forehead against mine and strains his body into my hand.
“Maren,” he grits out.
His hand moves faster, his thumb increasing pressure and pace, and my hand moves to match his. We twist against each other, angling to find the position that gives us the most pleasure this kind of limited touching will allow.
His free hand rubs over my skin, playing over my nipples, pressing his palms to the full swells of my breasts, flattening and gliding up to just over my heart. His eyes are wide open and look startled, like he just realized something important.
“I want you in me, Cohen,” I whimper, using my hand to direct him to the next place where I want him to go.
“Now?” he asks, his voice a tight snap.
“Right now. Please. Right now. Please,” I chant. His hands slide to my inner thighs and knead the skin there. He’s on his knees, so long and gorgeous and hard. He presses my legs apart and positions himself where I’m slick and ready for him.
There’s a second where we’re both balancing on the precipice. In one smooth motion, he’ll be deep inside me, and I’ll be completely wrapped around him. But, for now, it’s only gut-clenching anticipation.
“Maren?”
I buck my hips his way, teasing the head into territory where I want all the rest of him.
“Cohen,” I moan, squirming under his fierce, piercing look.
“I love you.”
The words are sharp and sweet, and before I can respond, he presses into me in one long, smooth slide. The sensation is so all-body encompassing I can’t do anything but wrap my legs around his hips and urge him closer.
He grabs me tight under the ass and yanks up, and I arch to allow him to fill me as much as he can before he pulls out almost completely. He pulls out and pushes in over and over, his hands frantic everywhere over my skin, his mouth pulled in a tight line as he fights for control.
I sit up suddenly, determined to close the nonexistent gap between our bodies. He rearranges and falls back so I can settle on his lap, my legs twined around his hips, our bodies rubbing from chest to thighs. His arms drape around my waist, mine grip his big shoulders, elastic with bulging muscles. I tilt back and lift my hips, then drive down on him, exploding a long path of pure pleasure through my body.
And his, if his reaction is any indication. His hands squeeze at my sides and drag me closer, press me against him harder. “Mare
n, holy fuck, Maren.”
I arch away from him and feel every inch as it slides out, leaving me with a momentary emptiness I can’t stand. Just as he’s about to slide out of my body, I melt back against him, driving him deep inside me, and loving the way my body stretches to take him all in, make him all mine.
The pace increases, and my control begins to spiral out of my grasp. Sweat dampens my neck, and my breath pants out. My body is splintering, about to explode, and I wrap tight around him, letting the words I’ve wanted to say to him for so long scream out on the cusp of a shaking, tearing orgasm.
“Cohen! I love you.”
I slump against his chest, totally spent by the tremors that just tore through me. Cohen gently flips me onto my back and continues to press in, his arms pushing his body up on either side of me, so I can see him from the top of his head to the wet, sweet place where he and I are sliding together.
“Come again, Maren,” he begs, his voice choppy. “Come on me one more time. Come for me.”
And, like his voice has some kind of magic connection to the very center of me, I unravel as he speaks sweet and low, undoing me so fast and hard my entire body shudders over and over just before his follows suit.
“I love you.”
He says the words. Or maybe I do. Our voices are twisted together, our words tangled, spilling and mixing. Funny how a few hours ago, those three words felt taboo, too soon, too strong, and now we’re curled in each other’s arms, repeating them like we can’t stand to not declare it over and over.
He finally gets up to get rid of the condom and brings back a blanket, a wine bottle, and a package of firewood. He starts the fire, buck naked.
I giggle, and he turns to smile.
“What’s all the giggling about?” He throws the blanket over me and hands me the bottle of wine, already uncorked.
“You’re like some caveman, starting a fire naked.” I giggle again, and he laughs along with me.
“Sex. Fire. Alcohol. All I need is a slab of raw mammoth meat, and this night is a caveman’s wet dream.”
I roll on the floor, laughing so hard my sides hurt. “No glasses?”
