by Liz Meldon
“Sorry, that was awful.”
“I’ll strike it from the record,” she insisted coyly. “What’d you get?”
“Mint lemon.”
Yikes. She schooled her features. “Verdict?”
He took a long, labored sip, then studied the bright pink straw. “Thick.”
“Just how I like it.” She hastily shoved her own bright pink straw in her mouth, flushed, and then nodded to the door in a shall we? sort of way. Cole led the charge, and Skye chugged along behind him, kicking herself. Normally their innuendos were flirty—not uncomfortable.
Although the yoga studio wasn’t far from the beach, Cole insisted on driving them over, not wanting to leave his classic 1958 baby blue Impala parked, top up, on the street for long. Clearly he hadn’t intended to stay for the session if Skye hadn’t shown up. So, after the two-minute drive, during which Skye let her hair free and focused on not getting any smoothie or lingering body lotion on the luxuriously wide seat, they parked in a relatively empty public lot. Leaving her things in the trunk, Skye headed for the beach, her pace casual, like they had nowhere else in the world to be. Halfway down the boardwalk, she perched on the edge of the hip-high stone wall, legs crossed at the ankles.
Cole stood before her and faced the water, one hand in his pocket as he nursed his smoothie, cheeks gaunt for a moment under the strain. Skye had always loved the beach, and while she despised stereotypes, others might describe her as a typical seaside Cali girl. Yoga lover. Sushi aficionado. Sock-free unless absolutely necessary. Go with the flow. Bonfire on the beach expert. Mermaid without the fin and seashell bra. Cole’s Coral Bay beach house sat on the edge of a cliff with a path directly down to private sand and surf; every party he hosted there was an epic tease, a test of her will to play her role flawlessly. If she’d had less restraint, she would have blown off the exquisite caviar and tedious conversations to spend the night with waves lapping at her toes.
Somehow, today didn’t feel like the day to ditch her flip-flops and stroll along the surf. From Cole’s expression, he seemed to be in the same mindset.
Had Finn told him about what had happened that night? Did Cole know she and one of his best friends had been exchanging flirty text messages and phone calls ever since? Would he even care, or was he more concerned about the impact on their contracted relationship?
She bit her lip, watching him for a moment, before turning her gaze outward and letting it wander the clear blue expanse of the Pacific. It really was beautiful—and she’d give anything to be neck-deep in it right now, laughing and frolicking with Cole as though nothing had changed. But that clearly wasn’t the case. Sighing, she stood and dusted off the back of her yellow strapless sundress. Without her heels on, she was a few generous inches shorter than him.
“Cole,” she touched his shoulder gently, “I think we need to talk about—”
Before she could get it out, Cole whirled around and grabbed her, his hand curving across her lower back and his face stopping within a breath of hers. They stared at one another in a moment of stunned silence, blood pounding in her ears, and Skye found herself distracted by the soft parting of his lips. Heat and adrenaline prickled through her. Seconds slowed to years, until there was nothing but Cole and Skye, standing on the brink, on the precipice of what she had desired from the moment she first met him. She angled her face up slightly, bringing their mouths so exquisitely close that she could feel the hum of his lips in hers.
And then he kissed her.
Finally.
While tentative and tender, a mere brush of his lips against hers, it was most definitely a kiss. Her eyes widened, her body stiffened, and Skye nearly dropped her smoothie. A surge of warmth raced from her mouth down to the peak of her thighs, and it lingered, her heart racing, when Cole pulled away.
“I… What…?” she babbled, her whole body on fire. “Cole, you…”
“Skye.” He cupped her face, thumbing the sensitized skin of her lower lip. “I don’t know, but it’s happening.”
Her eyes closed this time as he swooped down, smoothie falling to the ground when he took her mouth fiercely, passionately. Their lips parted in an instant, his tongue sweeping over hers, and Skye wrapped her arms around his neck and stood up on her tip-toes.
If she’d thought that last kiss had set her on fire, this one had turned her into a blazing inferno.
The rock-hard planes of his body melded perfectly with the soft curves of hers, and she moaned weakly as his fingers twined through her loose red waves, the other hand scooping her up by her backside. Any hint of space between them, any distance, disappeared. The rest of the world faded away. The crashing waves fell silent. The cries of circling seagulls vanished. It was just her and Cole, holding each other tighter than Skye had ever been held in her life—like their very survival depended on that kiss, and if they broke apart, even for a moment, the world would end.
That was how she’d always felt. Sure, Cole traveled most of the time, but she had still considered him a primary figure in her life. If he disappeared, for whatever reason, her world would end. It would just stop spinning. Crops would die. The oceans would rise. All that doomsday stuff—it would come true for her.
And for the last four years, Skye had assumed she was the only one who felt that way, that his world would keep on spinning no matter what. He’d find a new sugar baby. Maybe he’d arrange a business-savvy marriage. Something. But from the way he kissed her, like he was dying of thirst and Skye was his own personal oasis, and the way he held her, possessively, like she was untouchable to every other soul out there…
Well, it hadn’t all been in her head.
Skye hadn’t imagined the spark, the chemistry, the affectionate glances.
When she pulled away, fearing she might suffocate, Skye’s eyes were watery as they fluttered open. Her lips tingled in a way she never wanted to stop.
“I… think we need to talk,” Cole admitted, sounding just as breathless as she felt. His cheeks bore a flush of desire, and his eyes, normally bright blue and clear like her beloved Pacific, reminded her more of the Atlantic—in the middle of a cyclone.
“Yeah, there are some things to say,” she managed. “Clearly.”
“And maybe here isn’t the best place,” he said. Then, he ducked down and grabbed her fallen smoothie, tossing it in the nearby garbage bin. When he faced her again, he wore a hopeful, though slightly guarded expression. It wasn’t one she knew all that well, yet it still managed to make her heart skip a beat. Skye brushed a hand through her hair, then nodded in the general direction of his car.
“My place or yours?”
10
Finally
“Skye, I have to apologize,” Cole said as they drove the long bend along the shoreline leading up to his secluded villa. “I didn’t know there were photographers at the beach. I was hoping they hadn’t realized I was even in Coral Bay.”
She bit the insides of her cheeks to keep from snapping at him. As they had headed back to the car after that life-changing kiss, she and Cole had been swarmed by paparazzi. Most of the questions were shouted at him, as they always were, and Skye couldn’t help wondering if that kiss had been for their benefit, not hers. After all, no one had ever been able to get a snap of such a passionate, candid embrace between them. It’d be all over tomorrow’s tabloids. Was it all for show?
Her heart said no, but her mind wasn’t quite so convinced.
“Really. I honestly didn’t know. If I did, I wouldn’t have kissed you. You know I hate giving those bastards a story.” Cole slowed the car as they approached his front gate. What Skye loved most about his villa was that it was the only one in the area. He had bought the land surrounding it and refused to sell an inch to developers hungry to build condos or hotels. In fact, last year he had put in an application to have the land protected by law, citing conservation efforts and the like. The deal still hadn’t gone through, but in the meantime, Skye got to enjoy the view—green forest and hills to her left
, the ocean, cliffs, and pristine sandy beaches to her right—unencumbered. It almost helped her forget what had just happened with the photographers.
“It’s fine,” she managed as he punched in the gate code. Moments later, a series of mechanisms unlocked noisily before the wrought iron barrier swung open. “I believe you.”
Sort of. Cole had never pulled publicity stunts in the past. He wasn’t hurting for press, his companies were doing great, and Skye’s appearance at most public functions had quelled rumors that he was some weirdo perma-bachelor. Still, the whole ordeal had put a dampener on things.
The car came to a gentle stop in front of the closed two-door garage, and when Cole cut the engine, Skye immediately heard the roar of the waves from somewhere below. From the street view, Cole’s beach house appeared to be a standard bungalow, but it backed onto a small cliff overlooking the ocean. The lower level extended down the side of the cliff, and a somewhat unwieldy set of stairs carved into the landscape took you down to the water. Or, for the non-daredevils, Skye included, you could exit the door off the kitchen and just follow the path down a much gentler slope to the private beach.
She loved this house. Whenever Cole brought her there, it was like she had her own remote island paradise. He’d considered selling it a few years ago, but she was glad he hung onto it. Something about him having a home in Coral Bay, near her, was always comforting.
She fiddled with the hem of her sundress, acutely aware that they had been silently sitting in the car for at least two minutes while she admired the house. After all, she hadn’t visited since last year—but that was more of an excuse, really, so she could justify not speaking first.
Just as she was about to comment on how lovely the gardens looked, a blend of cactus and seasonal florals on either side of the stone walkway leading up to the front door, Cole unbuckled his seatbelt and faced her.
“Skye.”
“Cole,” she said, more out of habit than anything, and clicked her seatbelt free. Now was when the talking should happen, but knowing Cole, he would probably ask what she wanted to drink, if she was hungry, comment on the weather. She met his gaze hesitantly, lower lip caught between her teeth, and arched an eyebrow. A challenge. Do something. I dare you.
Much to her surprise, he complied—in spades.
Cole cupped her cheek, fingers brushing along her skin to the back of her neck as he dragged her into a breathtaking kiss. A wave of desire crashed into her and she clutched at his wrist as their mouths opened to one another. His tongue swept over hers, faintly, tentatively, and she sighed against him. Unable to contain herself, Skye clambered across the car, never once breaking contact, and straddled him. Cole hastily pushed his seat back, the sudden shift jostling them together. Her hands slipped to his shoulders, firm and muscular, as his wandered down her back, and, much to her surprise, cupped her backside.
She gasped, eyes fluttering to meet his, and within them she still saw the ocean—only there were no calm waters today. No endless stretches of pristine blue-green that she wanted to dip her toes in and ripple. Today, storms raged once more. Sea and foam and waves and molten grey sky—she saw it all. Threading her fingers through his hair, she arched up against him, pressing him into the seat as the kiss deepened. Cole’s groan sent delight skittering through her body, pooling in her already damp sex. The little bundle of pleasure-seeking nerves at the crest of her thighs pulsed with need, and she ground down over Cole’s steadily hardening erection. Tendrils of pleasure coursed through her body in response—so she did it again, smiling against his mouth at the sound of yet another groan, this time its timbre deepening to a growl.
Cole responded by lifting the back of her dress and spanking what her bikini-cut panties left exposed. Skye’s eyes shot open at the sharp sting of pain, paired neatly with another wave of pleasure shooting out from her core. The jolt broke their kiss, but Cole merely watched her with those stormy blues, not once offering the bumbling apology she half expected. Instead, he rubbed a hand over the delicate skin of her backside, taking away some of the bite—only to smack her again, grinning faintly when she squeaked. Skye drew in a few shaky breaths, both pleased and surprised at this rather daring side of him. It was…unexpected.
And, quite frankly, more of a turn on than she would have thought. Kissing Cole, period, had practically flooded her panties. After this, there’d be no hope for saving them.
With one hand still cradling her stinging behind, Cole threaded the other up and into her hair, which he wrapped around his fist and tugged. Not harshly. Just enough to force her chin up, and Skye’s fingers bit into his shoulders when he placed kiss after kiss along her jaw, under her chin, and down her neck. When she felt teeth graze her collarbone, Skye shivered and moaned his name softly. His response came in a harsh rush of hot breath against her skin, and he straightened suddenly, gripping the bodice of her sundress and yanking it down her body. Her sex clenched, an exquisite need coming to full bloom within, and she sat back, giving him a moment to appreciate her.
And appreciate he did. His gaze explored every inch of her exposed skin, and her nipples hardened to stiff peaks.
“God, you’re perfect,” he murmured as his hand crept up her stomach and cupped one breast. He then snagged her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, and she whimpered when he rolled it, her body quivering at the delicious blend of pain and pleasure.
“Cole…” She had no idea what she wanted to say, but his name, rolling off her tongue… It only seemed to excite them both. He ducked down, capturing the nipple in his hot mouth, flicking it with his tongue, teasing it with the gentle scrape of teeth. Desperate for some sort of release from the steadily mounting tension, Skye ground down against his tented pants, fingers weaving through his hair as she rocked against him. Cole enveloped her other pert nipple with his mouth, groaning as her hand tightened in his hair. Each time she bucked her hips, his hardness brushed over her swollen clit, dragging a desperate mewl out of her. All Skye wanted was him—it was all she’d ever wanted.
“Fuck me,” he hissed when he finally came up for air.
“Gladly,” she whimpered back when he trailed his tongue between her breasts, then darted down and lightly nipped at her side. The hint of teeth made her squeal, but when she tried to squirm away, Cole held her in place with a hand slipping between them to cup her.
“You’ve no idea what you do to me,” he whispered huskily. “You’re so wet…”
“Because that’s what you do to me.”
Without warning, he pushed her soaked panties aside and plunged two fingers into her. Both slid in without resistance, filling her—but not as much as she would have liked. Almost. Desperately close.
Cole grabbed the back of her head and dragged her in for a searing kiss, fingers thrusting in and out of her, torturously slow and steady. He managed to rub both her clit and her inner wall, the combined pleasure of both a monstrous distraction, so much so that she could barely concentrate on kissing him. He chuckled against her mouth, clearly enjoying her dilemma, then nipped at her bottom lip.
“C-Cole…” She clenched her eyes shut, gasping, on the edge of a climax. “I can’t… You…”
“Are you all right?” His fingers stopped, and she caught a flicker of concern breaking through his lust-ridden features.
The brief reprieve from his relentless pace provided the moment of clarity she needed—to ensure her fingers were working. She hastily unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants, quickly freeing his confined cock—which was bigger than she’d expected. Smoothing the glistening liquid at the tip down to the base, she grinned when Cole’s head tipped back, his lips slightly parted as she dragged a loose fist up and down. If she had more patience, she might have taken her time; after all, he had reveled in her torment long enough. Skye ought to return the favor.
But when it came to Cole, she was an impatient hussy with no shame. So, Skye lifted her hips, panties pushed to one side, and dragged his hard tip between her slick folds, back
and forth, enjoying the way Cole twitched beneath her, then slid down his full length.
She had never had metaphorical fireworks go off before, but when their eyes met, it was the biggest, grandest display the world had ever seen. Cole cupped her face and steered her down, their lips colliding as the colorful explosions danced across her mind’s eye. Her sex tightened around him, adjusting to the size, and she embraced the fleeting moment of calm, the eye of the storm, to lose herself in their kiss.
She had imagined it over and over again, sometimes using that fantasy to reach a blissful climax before bed. The real thing was so much better.
Pulling back, she gasped down a few breaths, her forehead resting against his. Slowly, she started to move, testing the waters, her hips swirling and bucking as he watched her, utterly transfixed. Eventually her pace quickened, helped along by his hands splayed over her backside. Each time he filled her, Skye lost hold of a piece of her sanity, careening closer and closer to the edge of ecstasy. She didn’t try to contain her cries, her moans, her whimpers, and soon Cole’s harsh breaths intermingled with them, forming the sweetest chorus she had ever heard—the kind she’d hear again in her dreams tonight.
Suddenly, the seat fell back, clicking into place, and she giggled as they fell with it. With more room to move, Cole locked his arm around her waist, trapping her in place against his hard, lean body. With a hand woven through her hair, he pulled her head back, tongue leaving a wet hot trail up her neck, before thrusting into her so hard that her teeth chattered. Pleasure bloomed, washing over her in steady waves as he finally set his own pace. Hard. Fast. Pounding in and out of her, Cole held her in place. Unable to move, unable to kiss him—all she could do was moan and give in to wild abandon.
“Are you going to come for me?” he demanded, the authority in his tone nearly pushing her over the edge. She whimpered her response, barely coherent, which earned her a swift smack on the bottom, its sting biting through the pleasurable haze. “Use your words, sweetheart.”
