Could she do it? And even if she could and manage not to get caught, would she be able to live with herself after? Or would the guilt eventually tear her apart, allowing Wayne to continue destroying her life from beyond the grave?
She didn’t have answers to those questions and was grateful for the sound of Cole’s tires crunching on the gravel as his truck pulled up the drive. She still had six days to make a plan. She could afford to stop thinking for a few hours and enjoy an evening with an old friend.
Can you still call him an old friend when you came on his hand calling out his name last night and have been thinking X-rated thoughts about him all day?
“Oh, shut up,” Layla mumbled, not caring if talking to herself was a sign of an impending mental break.
She needed her inner voice to pipe down and to keep thoughts of Cole’s talented hands far from her mind if she were going to have a prayer of keeping things friendly between them.
She couldn’t think about how amazing he’d tasted, how his touch had brought her comatose sex drive surging back to life, or how hot it had been to open her eyes and watch his handsome face twist with bliss as he watched her come. He was stunning to look at under normal circumstances, but with his eyes glittering with passion and his lips bruised from her kisses, he’d been so damned sexy she had almost climaxed again, simply from meeting his gaze as he’d asked to taste her.
Now, as Cole slid out of his truck, his tanned face shadowed by a black cowboy hat and a tight black tee shirt hugging his muscled chest, she did her best not to look him in the eye. She kept her gaze on his chin, fighting to banish her impure thoughts to the far reaches of her brain.
“Thanks for coming to pick me up.” She grabbed her bag and headed down the stairs to meet him. “But I could have driven over. I don’t want to be any trouble.”
“It’s no trouble. I like chauffeuring pretty girls around.” Cole smiled as he took her suitcase. “And I went to the store before I came over, so I’ve got everything I need to make you the best spare rib dinner you’ve ever had.”
“Oh yeah?” Layla asked, her voice breathy simply from being on the receiving end of one of Cole’s killer grins. “You’re going to have some stiff competition. Reece and I had dinner at The Roadkill Café before she and Grayson left on their property hunt. The BBQ spare ribs were amazing.”
“Mine are better.” Cole winked as he tossed her suitcase into the truck bed.
Layla lifted a wry brow. “I see your cocky side is still as robust as ever.”
“Not cocky, just confident.” He braced one hand on the truck as he leaned in to add in a dramatic whisper, “My spare ribs are so good your taste buds are going to come screaming my name.”
Layla’s breath caught and her blood temperature instantly shot up a few degrees.
When she trusted her voice not to tremble, she said, “I thought we were keeping things friendly tonight?”
“We are,” he said, mischief glittering in his green eyes. “But my spare ribs didn’t make you any promises, Layla, and they don’t play nice. They’re a sexy beast and once they slip past your lips, they’re going to have their dirty, delicious way with you.”
“What if I put my fork down?” she asked, unable to resist flirting back though she knew she shouldn’t. “And walk away?”
“You can try,” he said, lips twisting into a wicked smile. “But once most people get a taste, they can’t stop. They keep coming back for seconds and thirds, until they’re so stuffed I have to get out my crowbar and roll them out the door.”
“Good thing I’m sleeping over, then.” Layla lifted her chin, bringing her lips closer to Cole’s. “You’ll only have to roll me down the hall.”
“Yeah. Good thing.” Cole held her gaze for a charged moment before he continued in a softer voice, “We should probably stop talking about dinner before I start drooling and embarrass myself.”
“Yeah,” she echoed. “We probably should.”
“Then hop in and we’ll get going.” He reached for the passenger side door and Layla climbed into his truck, trying not to notice how much the cab smelled like Cole.
It was a sawdust, grass, and soap smell laced with a masculine undertone that sent her back to last night, when Cole was all she could smell, all she could taste, all she could think about. By the time he climbed into the driver’s seat, Layla’s thighs were aching. By the time they reached the road leading to his family’s ranch, the ache had spread to encompass her entire body.
And by the time he parked in front of his simple wood-plank cabin and announced with a tummy-flipping grin—
“This is it. Home Sweet Home.”
—her panties were damp.
She couldn’t keep her eyes off his big hands and long, elegant fingers or keep her mind off the way he’d touched her. She was dying to feel his fingers stroking inside of her again, to feel his mouth, hot, wet, and hungry, on her skin. She wanted to unzip his jeans and find out if that bulge was as large as it had felt when he was rocking against her last night and lick every inch from base to tip.
Instead, she forced another stiff smile, pretended she wasn’t ridiculously turned on, and followed him into the cabin.
“Oh, it’s beautiful,” she breathed as she stepped through the door.
The interior of the cabin was even more charming than the exterior. Floor to ceiling bookshelves packed with books lined the entire right side of the wall of the large main room. A pot-bellied wood stove crouched in the center of the space, surrounded on three sides by rustic leather couches, and a polished wood ladder led up to a loft area where she could just make out the corner of a bed. On her left was a dining table big enough to seat six, three stools pulled up to the kitchen bar, and a kitchen that looked like a well-loved, often-used part of the home.
“Thanks,” Cole said, pride in his voice. “It’s a bachelor pad, but I try not to let it look too much like it.”
“No, it’s lovely.” She wandered toward the books, not surprised to see an eclectic mixture of classics, westerns, biographies, and a few horror novels gracing the shelves.
Cole had always been a voracious, genre-hopping reader. It was one of the many things they’d always had in common. Still, she couldn’t help but laugh when she saw an obviously well-loved romance novel tucked between a copy of Stephen King’s latest and a comedian’s autobiography.
“Don’t laugh at my books,” Cole said. “They’re my special friends.”
“Even Wicked Ways to Pleasure a Prince?” She turned back to him, giggling when she saw the embarrassment on his face. “Since when did you start reading romance novels?”
“It’s actually well written,” he said, kicking off his boots by the door. “And historically accurate. And the sexy parts are well done.”
Layla nodded seriously, but she couldn’t wipe the grin off her face. “I can imagine.”
“Some guys like movies, some prefer to read, okay?” he said, an adorable flush creeping up his neck. “I haven’t had a girlfriend in a while and sometimes a man needs…material if you know what I mean.”
“I do.” Layla’s smile slipped and an increasingly familiar heat flooded through her midsection. Her eyes met Cole’s and electricity leaped between them, leaving the air charged with possibilities.
Dangerous possibilities.
She cleared her throat, determined to guide them back to safer ground. “Do you need help with dinner? I’m not the most imaginative cook, but I know my way around a kitchen.”
“No, I’ve got it.” He picked up her suitcase and started toward the hallway on the far side of the room. “Let me set this in the bedroom and I’ll get to work. But go ahead and poke around the wine rack in the kitchen and see if there’s anything that sounds interesting.”
“Okay.” Layla moved into the kitchen, figuring she would wait and see where she was sleeping later.
At the moment, it didn’t seem like a good idea to be alone in the same room with Cole and a bed. Though they could prob
ably get into some trouble on the kitchen counter, too. If he lifted her on top, it would be the perfect height for—
“Not going there,” Layla muttered as she crouched down beside the wine rack, jumping when Cole’s voice sounded unexpectedly behind her.
“Not going where?”
She laughed as she turned to find him standing a few feet away, holding the bag of groceries he’d set by the door. “You scared me. Don’t you make any noise when you walk?”
“Nope,” he said seriously. “I’m part jungle cat.” He moved past her into the kitchen and began unloading ingredients. “So where aren’t you going? Because I think any of those wines would be good with Korean spare ribs except the pinot. I usually go for a zin to compliment the sweetness of the marinade, but a cab or one of the blends would work, too.”
“Oh, I…I don’t know,” she stammered, turning her attention back to the wine. “I don’t know much about wine. I just started drinking the past few months. Wayne only kept whiskey and vodka in the house and both of them made my stomach burn the few times I tried them. Grayson and Reece drink beer so I’ve mostly been sticking with that.”
“Then I think we should go with a zin,” he said. “They’re a little fruitier and less intense on the palate. It will be a good place to start you off. Grab that bottle on the top left.”
She stood with the bottle in hand, shaking her head as she watched Cole bustle about the kitchen. “So you’re a wine expert and foodie. How did this happen to the beer and potato chip boy I used to know?”
He laughed. “I still love beer and potato chips, but I dated a chef for a while and she got me hooked on the Food Channel. Then there was this wine rep who came through town on her sales route once a month. We had fun together for a while, but then I found out she was married, so…”
Layla winced. “Ouch. I’m sorry.”
“It was no big deal.” He shrugged as he began to pull brightly colored containers down from his spice rack. “No real feelings were involved, but I hated to lose my discount on wine. She got me hooked on the good stuff and then left me twisting.”
“A lot of men would have kept dating her,” Layla said, sliding onto one of the stools to watch him cook. “Married or not.”
He shook his head. “I’m not going to help someone cheat. At least not knowingly.”
He reached for the bottle of wine, freezing when his eyes landed on her face. His hand immediately shifted direction, coming to cover hers. “Last night wasn’t cheating. You and Wayne are over. The law may need signed paperwork to make that real, but I don’t. And you don’t. You have no reason to feel guilty.”
“I don’t,” she said, pulse racing as his fingers squeezed hers. “At least not about that.” She shrugged uncomfortably as she slipped her hand from beneath his, unable to think clearly when they were touching. “I just wish you hadn’t ended up on Wayne’s radar. I hate that you’re in danger because of me.”
Cole grunted. “I can handle being on Wayne’s shit list. I told you last night, I’m not afraid of him. Now pass over the wine and I’ll pour you a glass. From now until tomorrow morning you’re going to enjoy your food and wine, relax, get a good night’s sleep, and not worry about Wayne or anything else.”
“Yes, Mr. Bossy.” Layla lifted a wry brow as she slid the bottle across the counter, but she didn’t really mind his bossy side. It was hard to get angry at being bullied when she was being bullied into releasing her death grip on her worries and enjoying herself.
For the next half hour, she sipped her wine and got caught up on all the Lawson family gossip while Cole whipped up Asian slaw and a pot of sticky rice to go with the ribs that had been cooking for hours in the crockpot. She was careful to take little sips and only have one glass before dinner—drinking high alcohol craft beers with Grayson had taught her she was a lightweight—but by the time they sat down at one end of the large oak dining table, her cheeks felt flushed and her blood warm and thick in her veins.
“This smells like sin.” She leaned closer to her plate inhaling the fragrant meat, caramelized sugar, and ginger smell drifting from the ribs.
“It tastes even better,” Cole said, but he didn’t reach for his fork.
“What?” she asked, feeling his attention on her as she dropped her napkin into her lap. “I thought you were starving.”
“I am,” he said, voice husky. “But I want to watch you take your first bite.”
“You like to watch, don’t you?” she whispered, the naughty words out of her mouth before she could think better of them.
Cole’s eyes darkened as he flattened his hands deliberately on either side of his plate. “You’re killing me. You know that, right? Now all I can think about is watching you come last night and how much I want to make you come again.”
Layla’s nipples tightened and her breath came faster.
God, she wanted this man, and it suddenly seemed so silly not to take him. To take him and every bit of pleasure he wanted to give her. Whether it was the wine or the fact that she was simply weak when it came to resisting Cole Lawson, she didn’t know and didn’t care.
She only knew that she was ready for more of him.
Right now.
“How do the ribs taste warmed up?” she asked, pushing her chair away from the table.
“Fucking amazing.” Cole surged to his feet at the same moment she did.
A second later, their mouths met in a kiss so intense it made stars flash behind Layla’s closed eyes and her entire body cry out one long, sustained hellllllllll yes.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Cole
They stumbled toward the bedroom but didn’t make it past the living room. Layla’s knees collided with the couch and she fell onto the cushions, pulling him down on top of her as they continued to kiss like they intended to devour each other from the mouth down.
Cole, for one, wanted nothing more than to lick every inch of her, from head to toe. He wanted to taste her skin, her sweat, her body where she was wet with wanting him. He wanted to memorize every intimate flavor, to mark her with his lips, teeth, and tongue until she couldn’t remember any man’s touch but his.
Until she was consumed by pleasure so intense, it would banish the memory of the pain her monster of an ex-husband had brought to their bed.
“I want to kiss you everywhere,” he said against her lips, his breath coming fast as he reached for the bottom of her tee shirt and pulled it over her head.
“But no talking.” She tugged his shirt off, arching her back to help him as he reached for the close of her bra. “I don’t want to talk.”
“Why no talking?” He pulled her bra down her arms, revealing her breasts. Her skin was marble pale and her nipples small, tight, and the prettiest raspberry color he’d ever seen. Even the pale pink scar he’d noticed the night before couldn’t detract from her perfection. “You’re fucking beautiful. Can I say that? And that I can’t wait to get my mouth on you?”
“You can say that, just nothing serious,” she said, sucking in a swift breath as he cupped her breasts in his hands, teasing her tightened tips with his thumbs before dropping his head to flick his tongue across her aroused flesh.
“But I am serious.” He licked her again, circling the bud with his tongue, groaning as Layla’s fingers fisted in his hair. “So serious.” His lips parted and he took her into his mouth, suckling her with deep rhythmic pulls until she began to squirm beneath him.
“Oh my God, stop,” she said, whimpering when he pulled away. “I mean, don’t stop. Don’t stop! Please!”
He smiled as he transferred his attentions to her other breast, teasing and sucking until she was panting and fumbling between them, going for the close of his jeans.
“We don’t have to rush,” he said, groaning as her hand brushed against where he was already so hard, so hot and swollen, and dying to be inside of her.
“I want to rush.” Her eyes glittered with desire as she tugged his zipper down. “I want you so much. I want
you inside of me. It’s all I’ve been able to think about all day.”
“Thank God,” he said, breath rushing out. “Me too. I want to feel you come on my cock the way you came on my fingers. I want—”
“Less talk, more naked,” she said, hands shaking as she tugged his jeans lower on his hips.
Cole stood long enough to dispose of his jeans and boxer briefs and then reached for the top of Layla’s jean shorts, tugging them down her legs, revealing tiny black panties. He knelt between her legs, hands smoothing up and down her thighs as he took in the gorgeous woman lying in front of him.
“I love these panties,” he said, running a teasing finger over the satin until he rubbed ever-so-gently against her clit, even that light touch enough to make her moan. “Did you wear them for me?”
Layla’s tongue swept out to dampen her lips. “Not consciously, but I don’t usually wear a thong with jean shorts.”
“Thong.” Cole cursed. “Roll over, let me see.”
Slowly, deliberately, Layla shifted position, coming onto her hands and knees in front of him on the couch, showing him the pale orbs of her ass, bisected by the tiniest scrap of black satin.
When she was in position, she glanced over her shoulder and asked in a husky voice, “You like?”
That voice was all it took to drive Cole the rest of the way out of his mind. A second later he was ripping the panties down her legs and his face was between her legs. She cried out as his tongue speared through her heat, reaching under her body to curl against her clit as he lapped up the sweet taste of her for the first time.
“Wait, let me turn around,” she said, her protest ending in a moan as he slid a finger inside her channel, gliding through her slickness.
“Why?” He transferred his slick finger to her clit, circling the nub as his tongue plunged into the well of heat between her legs.
Fuck, she tasted amazing, sweet and salty and sexy as hell. So sexy, it took him a moment to understand her when she said—
“There are parts of me out for show-and-tell right now that I wouldn’t like out for show-and-tell.” She gasped, hips circling as he continued to manipulate her clit. “Jesus, just let me turn around.”
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