by Nina Lane
Though I’m aching to see him naked, I can’t move beneath the exquisite sensations, the haze of lust descending over us. He eases his hand between my thighs, spreading them apart and trailing his fingers up to my damp sex. I gasp, arching my hips. He slips one finger into my pussy, a light teasing tickle as if he’s letting me get reacquainted with his touch.
But I don’t need to be reacquainted with him. His touch, his scent, the scrape of his stubble against my breasts…everything about him is imprinted in the deepest part of my memory. I pull at the front of his T-shirt.
“Take off your clothes.”
He moves away to strip off his shirt. Pushing to my elbows, I stare in awe at his naked chest, the perfect slopes of his pecs leading down to an abdomen so well-defined it might have been sculpted by a master artist. His jeans ride low enough on his hips to reveal the V-line of muscles arrowing on either side of his lower abs, and his arms ripple with sinew.
Ten years ago, he’d had a strong, strapping body I’d loved wildly, but now…it’s like he’s set out to rival a Michelangelo sculpture. Like he’s surpassed one.
“You, uh…” I lick my lips. “You’ve been working out.”
He flicks open the buttons on his jeans. “Sometimes.”
“You’re incredibly beautiful.”
Though he smiles, darkness flashes behind the lust in his eyes. My heart hitches. Then he lowers his head to kiss me again, and my brief unease burns away. Sinking into his kiss, I press my hand to his erection. Even through his jeans, his shaft pulses with warmth. I clench my pussy with a moan. My clit throbs.
“I don’t want to wait much longer,” I whisper against his mouth.
“Neither do I.” He lifts away from me again to take off his jeans and boxers. His cock sticks straight out, so long and deliciously thick my entire body zings with anticipation at the thought of having him inside me.
I close my fingers around his shaft, awed by the heavy pulsing, the crown already damp with moisture. Tempted as I am to suck him in deep, that will have to wait for another time. I rub my thumb over the head, scratching my fingernails lightly underneath the shaft.
A groan escapes him. He fists a hand in my hair. “I need you.”
I never stopped needing you. The confession collects in my throat and stops.
I stretch out on my back. He climbs over me, placing his hands on either side of my head. For an instant, we stare at each other, the air charged with tension, our past, a thousand questions. He lowers his head at the exact same time I lift mine, and all uncertainty falls away under the power of our kiss.
I spread my legs, my heart hammering, and drive my hands into his thick hair. Positioning himself between my legs, he teases his cock over the outer folds of my pussy. My nerves fire to the breaking point. Pressure curls in my lower body.
“Hurry,” I whisper.
Bracing one hand on the mattress, he presses the thick head of his cock tight against my slit.
God in heaven. Sweat trickles down my neck. I grip his biceps, forcing myself to spread my legs farther. His breath hot on my neck, he massages my clit. My muscles tighten and loosen at the same time as my arousal rises in increments.
“Open wider,” he whispers hoarsely. “Let me in, Josie Bird.”
With a gasp, I lift my legs, hugging them tight against his hips. Our skin rubs together, both familiar and new, his chest teasing my nipples so intensely that I swear I could come from the stimulation alone.
But I won’t. I want to come with him locked deep inside me, hot and pulsing. Sliding my hands to his shoulders, I arch upward in invitation. And then he breaches my opening, pushing into me with well-oiled ease, fisting the bed covers beside me.
Slowly…so slowly…filling me inch by inch, his thick shaft flexing against my inner walls. My heart jackhammers.
“Goddamn, Josie.” He thrusts hard, his cock penetrating me with such sudden and delicious force that I cry out in pleasure.
And then we’re united again in the most primal of ways. He pulls back, pushes forward, setting the rhythm that belonged to us alone. I fall back into the tide, the rocking of our bodies, as time slips away and we’re Josie and Cole again, tucked away in our shoebox apartment and bound by the shared belief that we’ll never be apart.
Words dissolve into grunts, panting, my incoherent pleas for more. He drives into me again and again, urging me toward the pinnacle, his face sweaty and set with self-restraint.
I come with a scream, digging my fingernails into his shoulders, my whole body electrified with sensation. Only when I’m easing down the other side does he thrust again, so hard I feel him all the way to my belly. Burying his head in my shoulder, he shoots deep inside me. His groan vibrates against my skin and echoes clear down to my bones.
When he rolls off me, his chest heaving, I ease on to my side instinctively, the way I always did before. He folds his arm around me and pulls me against him the way he always did before. We lie together in sated silence, our breath easing, the sweat cooling on our flushed skin, my leg spread over his.
The way we always did before.
Chapter 10
Cole
* * *
I’m a fucking idiot. All I needed to do was stay away from her. Instead, one touch of her cherry-sweet mouth, and all my resolutions went up in flames.
Forget it. Just tell it to her straight. It was a mistake, you’re not getting involved, you’re—
“I can hear you thinking.” Her voice, the bell-like clarity of it hoarsened with a sleepy rasp, slides into my blood.
—a complete asshole if you think you can stay away from her now.
I turn from the dark window where I’ve been staring at nothing for the past hour.
Damn.
Sleep-rumpled and still flushed, she’s tangled in the sheets, her arms wrapped around a pillow. Her green eyes are wary, the skin of her shoulders and neck abraded by red marks. I was too rough with her, too greedy. Still couldn’t get enough of her. That will never change.
A struggle knots my chest. I can’t get past this fog of…whatever it is. Can’t pull my senses out of the past.
The Sunday mornings when I didn’t have to work and could lie tangled in the sheets with Josie’s soft, warm body tucked against mine. Her hair spread out on my chest, her breath puffing against my shoulder. Lemongrass and cherries. Stroking my hand down her smooth back, squeezing her perfect ass. Her little murmurs and sighs. Another round of sex before I’d get up to make coffee and we’d spend the next few hours lazing around.
Christ in heaven. What I wouldn’t fucking give to have that back.
At the very least, I want to haul her close again, drink in her scent, stroke her messy hair back from her face. But that intense urge still wars with eternal knowledge that I shouldn’t be around her. Not anymore.
Silence stretches.
“So are you at least going to make me coffee?” she finally asks.
“It’s almost midnight.” I rub my hands over my jeans, my fingers flexing with my need to touch her. “Did you sleep?”
“A little.” She fumbles in the sheets and grabs my T-shirt, slipping it over her head. “That’s probably it for the night, though.”
“You must be exhausted during the day.”
“Yeah. I drink a lot of coffee.”
I frown, disliking the idea of her running on caffeine and almost no sleep. “What have you tried?”
“Everything.” She pushes her feet into a pair of fuzzy slippers and walks to the kitchen. The T-shirt slides off her shoulder, exposing her creamy skin. “Medications, therapy, counting sheep. When I can get my brain to shut off, I fall asleep pretty easily but then I can’t stay asleep. And the nightmares freak me out enough that I don’t want to go back to sleep even though I’m exhausted.”
I look at the window again. How many times has she been scared awake with nightmares of…what? Freakish disembodied, bloody heads? What the fuck?
Part of me doesn’t want to know wha
t other images are cutting through Josie’s beautiful mind. Another part of me needs to know everything, as if I can plunge in and rip them all apart with my bare hands.
She starts the coffeemaker and returns to sit on the sofa, reaching for a bag of Jolly Ranchers on the table. She peels one open, flicking her tongue out to pull the candy into her mouth. Heat rushes through me.
Attempting to suppress it, I ask, “When did the insomnia start?”
“Couple of years after the accident.” She pulls the shirt over her knees. “First I was just scared of the dark. Then I guess my brain connected that fear with the fact that it’s dark when I sleep, which led to the insomnia. It’s somehow related to two things. The darkness the night of the accident, and the black hole in my memory.”
“You still don’t remember anything?”
She shakes her head, her mouth thinning. “Only the end of the party.”
I remember too much. Everything about that night still snarls, red and scorching, through every part of me. The paralyzing terror. The surrealness and disbelief—that there had been a mistake, this wasn’t real, couldn’t be happening. The freezing ocean water seeping under the doors. The shattered windshield. The unnatural angle of Teddy’s neck. Instinct taking over—get out of the car, save her, call 911. God, please…Josie, don’t die.
And stupid details. The mustard stain on the shirt of the interrogating police chief. The fleeting thought that Benjamin and Faith were going to miss their flight to Heathrow. The pen the nurse used, a black ballpoint printed with Don Smith Real Estate.
I force my voice to stay even. “What about the nightmares?”
“They’re just a mess of spooky stuff. I put them all in my art.”
Anger clenches my jaw.
I hadn’t known anything about the trajectory of her artwork. I’d fought the urge to find out countless times, stopping myself from hitting the enter key on a search engine even after I’d typed in her name.
My burning need to know how she was, what she was doing, if she was happy, had been appeased only when Gerald mentioned her. Josie Mays? She’s out in California, doing great. Heard she has an art show coming up. She deserves success.
Which is exactly why I’d stayed the fuck out of it. A good thing, too. If I’d discovered her art sprang from nightmares, I’d have gone batshit crazy. And then barged into her life trying to save her, even though the only way I could do that was by staying far away from her.
Before the accident, her artwork hadn’t been all sunshine and roses. She’d been inspired by fairy tales and driven by subversion. Her paintings had been detailed, fantastical landscapes—forests with human-like trees, gnarled riverbanks, swirling sea floors—dominated by resolute heroines making their way through the maze-like lands. Anthropomorphic creatures—foxes in plaid waistcoats, birds wearing monocles—aided the girls on their journeys.
Once upon a time, Josie’s work had been about bravery, facing the unknown with courage, finding help where you least expected it.
I let out a long breath. Now that I’ve crossed the line I swore I wouldn’t even go near, all my real urges, the ones I’ve fought so hard to bury deep, come clawing to the surface.
Protect her. Make her happy. Give her everything. Love her.
With effort, I struggle to shove it all back down, smother it. None of that will ever come to any good.
I don’t know what will.
“Cole.”
Kryptonite, the way she says my name in that voice. Soft, faintly amused, gentle. Whenever she’d used that tone, I was a heartbeat away from falling to my knees and doing whatever she asked.
That hasn’t changed either.
She pushes off the sofa and approaches. I steel myself against her potent effect and silently will her not to touch me.
“You’re going to get a headache from all your thinking.” She rests her hand on my bare chest.
The heat of her palm burns. She smells like sex. Her lips are reddened, slightly swollen. I want to pull her hair back, tilt her head up, and devour her sweet mouth all over again.
“I know I said I’d hate you for the rest of my life,” she says, “but I don’t want to.”
Her green eyes are luminous. I lost myself in them years ago. If I let that happen again now, I’ll never come out again.
“I can’t.” She moves her hand down my chest, her fingers tracing my abs. “Hate is poison.”
“I could…” I swallow reflexively. “I could never hate you.”
A faint smile curves her mouth. She lifts her other hand to my hair, twisting a few strands around her fingers. “I’ve thought about you a lot. I tried not to…tried hard not to…but sometimes when I haven’t been able to sleep, you’ve found your way into my thoughts.”
“One of my favorite places.”
Her smile widens, and a dimple pops into her left cheek. My defenses, what’s left of them anyway, crumble. She leans forward and kisses me between the eyes. Slides her lips down to my nose. A soft kiss on each cheek. My chin. By the time she reaches my mouth, my heart is pounding. She straddles my thighs and curves one hand around my nape. Her lips are as soft as a flower petal.
How in the love of God can I let her go again?
She straddles my lap and sweeps her tongue into my mouth, passing me the sticky candy. My dick hardens. I should stop this, tell her it was a mistake, but there’s no fucking way I can withstand the onslaught of everything Josie. I couldn’t do it when I was twenty-two. I’m even more powerless now.
She trails her lips from my mouth to my neck, licking the pulse pounding in the hollow of my throat. My blood heats. The sweet cherry candy melts on my tongue.
I settle my hands on her bare thighs and slide them up under the T-shirt. She’s so damned soft. I always felt like I’d bruise her with my big clumsy hands, callused from hauling up lobster traps.
Now I want to bruise her, mark her as mine, leave no doubt that she will always belong to me. Even if I’ve ruined her.
She shifts back on my thighs, her bare ass warm through my jeans. A little murmur escapes her throat. She’s getting hot again.
I pull her back to me, but she resists my grip. Instead she presses kisses down the center of my chest to my abs and licks them one by one. Her breath puffs against my skin. Tension tightens my muscles.
“Josie.”
“Stop thinking.” She trails her fingers beneath the unfastened buttons of my jeans. I didn’t bother putting on my boxers, and when she touches my cock, my whole body jerks to awareness. My breath shortens. A fog of lust descends.
She eases off my lap and tugs my jeans off, her eyes darkening with urgency. My dick is so hard it aches. She grasps the shaft. Pressure floods my lower body. One stroke from her warm hand and I’d come. I drag air into my lungs and fight for self-control.
Josie kneels in front of me, nudges herself between my thighs, and guides my dick into her open mouth.
“Oh, shit.” I drive a hand into her hair. Every cell in my body goes taut with pleasure.
Fucking heaven, my cock in her warm wet mouth. She slides her tongue over my shaft and licks the crown. A flush rises to her cheeks. Her hard nipples poke against the T-shirt. Unable to form a word, I grab the front of the shirt and tug sharply.
She moves away only long enough to yank the shirt over her head. The sight of her naked body slams into me like a firestorm. She’s all pink and white curves, her nipples quivering, her tits still reddened from my overeager lust. I reach out to grab her breast, desperate to touch her, but she pushes my hand away and brings my dick to her mouth again.
Closing my eyes, I rest my head against the back of the chair. My body burns. The tension is a live wire about to break. Part of me wants to stay buried in Josie’s mouth forever, but there’s no way I can withstand the mounting pressure.
I fist my hands in her hair. She takes my shaft in all the way to her throat before pulling back. Faster. Fucking me with her mouth. I drag my eyes open, locking my gaze to her red l
ips stretched around my dick. Need boils through me.
“Josie.” My voice is tight, barely contained.
She eases back, meeting my gaze through the hot air. “Give it to me. All of it.”
With a groan, I shove my hips forward. She takes me in again, slackening her throat muscles, letting me thrust as far as I can. My mind goes blank. There’s only the heat of her mouth, her hands on my thighs, the pressure building like steam in my groin.
“Almost there…almost…fuck.”
One more thrust and I come, shooting deep into her throat. Pleasure grips every muscle. Her eyes widen. She swallows, circling her hand around my shaft again and squeezing her eyes shut. Even as the pulses ebb, she doesn’t pull away. She presses her tongue to the underside of my dick, then slowly pulls back and kisses the damp crown.
Fucking paradise.
Before she can speak, I haul her up into my lap. She wipes her mouth and settles her head against my chest with a sigh. I edge my hand between her legs.
Her pussy is slick with arousal. She jerks at my touch, her body tensing. I push my forefinger into her tight hole and rub her clit with my thumb. A few quick strokes, and she comes with a sharp cry, trembling and clenching around my finger.
“Perfect.” I kiss her temple, easing the last sensations from her clit. “You are so perfect.”
“I’m not.” She turns her face into my chest. “But I’m glad you think I am. Because I really don’t want you to regret this.”
I can’t speak past the sudden constriction in my throat. Instead I tighten my arms around her and press my face into her hair.
She’s leaving after the Bicentennial Festival. Five more weeks. If I let myself have five weeks of Josie Mays, that will have to be enough to sate my hunger. It won’t—not even a lifetime of her will do that—but I can lie to myself. Just like I once told myself we were having a summer fling.
“Cole.” She looks up at me, putting her hand on the side of my face. “Don’t regret this.”
