Cole (All In Book 2)

by Liz Meldon

  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.”

  “Y-yes,” she cried, fingers digging so hard into the leather seat that she swore she heard something rip. “God, yes!”

  He let go of her hair as a stunning climax tore through her, and Skye bowed against him, shaking. Her mind’s fireworks had gone postal, exploding as one while sweet heat rocked her body. She collapsed against him, his vigorous pace prolonging the blissful torture of an orgasm that left her momentarily blind, deaf, and dumb. Skye floated back to reality, only just, when Cole’s arm clamped down around her, making it a little hard to breathe, and he hissed her name against her skin. Tensed, Cole spilled himself into her, then slowly sagged into the seat.

  With a hand gently clasping the back of her neck, he guided her back to him for one last kiss.

  The kind of kiss that could last forever.

  Skye had never seen the inside of Cole’s bedroom.

  The thought only just occurred to her as she stood at the foot of his bed, staring out two floor-to-ceiling glass walls that overlooked the Pacific. If she had stayed overnight in the past, there was a guest bedroom with her name on it. There was also an awesome home theater setup that she and Cole made use of from time to time, streaming marathons and ingesting way too much popcorn.

  Mind you, the kitchen wasn’t bad either. Stainless steel appliances. Black granite countertops. An island the size of a small country. Double-door fridge always stocked with her favourite munchies. The kitchen was Skye’s retreat on the rare occasion that Cole hosted something with people she couldn’t stand. She’d spend at least a collective hour hiding out with the chef and his team, sampling everything before it went out, hoping no one would notice her missing.

  But the bedroom had always been off-limits—in both a literal sense, as Cole kept the door closed when he hosted company, and in the metaphorical sense, as Skye tried to wrangle her feelings and preserve a friendship she valued more than anything. Yet here she was. Wrapped in an ankle-length teal swimsuit cover-up, one she had left behind sometime last year, otherwise still naked beneath, she crossed her arms over her chest and stared out across the water. Perfect surf waves rolled toward the shoreline, their white tips surging forward and crashing against the sand. She bit her lip. Crashing. Were she
and Cole crashing? Were they about to?

  Sex always made things complicated.

  It had all seemed pretty uncomplicated, of course, when he carried her into the house, down the stairs, and into the master suite, where he undressed her and dragged her into a shower that rivaled the size of her entire bathroom. It had seemed uncomplicated when he nudged her under the spray, combed his fingers through her hair, and attended to every inch of her with a sudsy loofah.

  And it certainly hadn’t felt complicated when he kissed her, when he marched her back against the slate grey tile, hoisted her up, and fucked her through two more earthshattering climaxes.

  But in the quiet after the storm, things were complicated. As she watched the ocean, clear blue to match the sky, Skye felt complications creep up her body and gnaw away at her resolve.

  This was what she had always wanted…

  So why had panic sunk its claws into her and refused to let go?

  “Sushi order placed,” Cole announced as he strode back into the bedroom, shoving his phone in his pants pocket. “I got your usual… Is that all right?”

  “Fine,” she told him, her voice catching. His brow furrowed—he’d noticed—and she cleared her throat. “Sounds great, actually.”

  “In the meantime…” He tossed a packet of something onto the bed. “A sweet for my sweet.”

  The chocolate stuffed with ooey-gooey salted caramel.

  A Rai’s Sweets staple. Panic sunk its claws deeper.

  “I had a few packets in the fridge for you,” he told her. Just the way she liked her chocolate. Cool. Crunchy. The caramel less likely to ooze all over her fingers.

  “Cole…” She settled on the edge of the bed. At first, she’d wanted to refuse the chocolates, knowing that this was a serious conversation they needed to have, but she couldn’t help herself. They really were her favourite. So, she snatched the packet and ripped it open, then offered some to him as he sat stiffly on the other side. His polite refusal made her sigh, and she brought one cool ball of deliciousness to her mouth; but her hand fell to her lap seconds later, chocolate slowly melting onto her fingertips.

  “Do you regret it?” He asked it so softly that she almost missed it.

  “No,” she insisted. “Not for a second.”

  He exhaled sharply, his hand flexing in and out of a fist. “Good.”

  “Do you?”

  “No.”

  To anyone else, it might have sounded like they were on the same page, but Skye knew Cole better than that. So, she took a slow, measured breath, and set her chocolates aside.

  “But,” she started, fully aware that this would kill their post-sex-pre-sushi pleasantness, “it complicates things.”

  Cole’s phone buzzed, and her eyes narrowed when he started to reach for it. Slowly, he threaded his hands together and set them on his lap.

  “It doesn’t have to.”

  “No, of course it doesn’t.” She couldn’t fault him there, but that was wishful thinking. “But you know it does.”

  “Skye…” He shook his head and stood, strolling for the window-wall, his eyes lifted to the horizon. “We can just carry on the way things have always been. Nothing needs to change.”

  Her shoulders slumped, the panic giving way to hurt. Didn’t he want them to change? Hadn’t what just happened meant something to him? She started fiddling with the fabric of her cover-up.

  “I don’t want to do that.” Finally. It was out there. Skye swallowed hard and caught Cole frowning as he pulled one hand out of his pocket and curled it into a fist. Curled. Uncurled. Pumping in and out—his thinking tick. She’d always thought it an anxious habit, but could never prove it. A smile flashed across his face, one so brilliant she couldn’t miss it. But within seconds, it was gone. Restrained. Hidden away, same as always. The hurt melted to frustration, hedging on anger.

  “Really?” Cole asked, his gaze still on the water—faraway, beyond what Skye could reach.

  “Is that such a fucking shock to you?” she snapped, and he turned back sharply, his frown deepening. She waited for him to say something, to counter her accusation. Her eyebrows shot up the longer they stared at one another. “Seriously?”

  He opened and closed his mouth, words failing, before posing the question she’d always dreaded. “Do… Do you want to end our contract?”

  “No.” Ending the contract could potentially mean Cole stepping out of her life—for good. She didn’t want that either, but she couldn’t stand the thought of things fizzling out, all because neither of them had the courage to say what they really felt.

  She ought to just tell him. Feelings—she had them bad. Maybe love. Probably love. But she couldn’t slice herself open and spill her soul for a man with the emotional capacity of a thumbtack. He had always been so adept at pretending, and the thought of him doing it with her… Well, she couldn’t stand it. If he didn’t feel the same way, if he hadn’t the audacity to say it, then why should she?

  And she knew that was pathetic. Childish. Two teenagers pretending not to understand the effect they had on one another. It was petty, too.

  “Skye, I don’t want to end it either,” he muttered, crossing the room and taking a seat beside her. The bed jostled slightly, and she looked briefly at the water before pinning her stare on her hands.

  “I’m sorry, Cole, but I just…” She gulped. “I need more from you.”

  “I… I’ve been trying to give more, but you just won’t take it.” Cole exhaled, the sound rife with frustration. “You keep telling me you don’t want the money, but I don’t have much else to gi—”

  “I’m not talking about money!” Was he being purposefully obtuse? From the furrowed brow and the slightly distracted way he kept glancing at his pocket whenever his phone buzzed, Skye wasn’t so sure. A rush of heat spread from her cheeks down to her chest, and he swallowed hard at the sight. Obviously he was aware he’d said the wrong thing, but when he made no effort to fix it, she shook her head and stood. “I can’t… I have to go.”

  “Skye.” He snagged her hand before she could stalk out, his touch electric. Why had she said anything at all? A hint of physical contact and her body responded—she should have just mounted him after he gave her chocolate and spent the rest of the night in blissful fucking ignorance. Maybe if they had spoken tomorrow, taken some time to digest, things would be different. But here they were. She had broken the seal. There was no going back now.

  So, she waited. She met his stare, she squeezed his hand, and she waited. Her heart leapt at the faint sound of something on the tip of his tongue, but disappointment hit hard when he said nothing instead. Fine.

  “I’m glad today happened,” she said as firmly as she could, “but, Cole, I need more. Not an end to anything. I just need more.”

  And with that, she tugged her hand free and made her way through the house. She paused, briefly, to change from one dress to another in the hall, grabbing her tote along the way. With her mind a clouded mess, her feet did most of the work, following familiar paths taken many times over until she was standing in the front driveway, staring at the car she and Cole had christened less than an hour earlier.

  Within minutes, a town car rolled up. Skye glanced back, waiting for one last attempt, for Cole to come running out after her and demand that she stay, that they talk more. All he’d have to do was kiss her. That was all it would take.

  Nothing.

  Swallowing her hurt, she climbed into the car on shaky legs—and left.

  4

  New POV

  “I’m sorry…” Skye pressed a hand to her forehead, heart pounding so hard that she could barely hear Hans Timmons, owner of Gallery Sens, through her phone. “You’re going to have to repeat that.”

  He chuckled kindly. “I said, I’d like to offer you a job. J. O. B. Does that sound appealing to you, Miss Summers?”

  “Yes,” she all but squealed. How embarrassing—you’d think she was fifteen and getting hired at her first job ever. But to have a
museum contact her regarding employment, it kind of was her first job—career-wise, anyway.

  “Now, I know you applied to assist the curator,” Hans remarked, and Skye had to amp her phone’s volume to hear the old man’s gentle voice. “Unfortunately, I’ve decided to fill that position with someone who has more experience.”

  Just like that, her excitement faceplanted. “Oh?”

  “I think you’ll get there,” he assured her, “but you need a little hands-on work outside of your classes. Now, the position I have isn’t glamorous—”

  “I didn’t get into this field for the glamor.”

  He laughed again. “Well, good! You’ll find none of it here. The position I had in mind is ticket seller. You’ll essentially man the front desk. Answer phones. Sell admissions. Educate curious lookie-loos and the like.”

  Glorified receptionist. Skye swallowed hard. She could do that. It didn’t sound all that difficult, though she knew the museum got a little busier when Coral Bay’s college resumed classes in the fall. First-year students were told to visit Gallery Sens after their Sex Ed and Consent lecture during orientation week. It was like a rite of passage. Everyone went in thinking it would be a porn shop, and then they left feeling cultured. Being a local, Skye hadn’t participated, but she had heard all the stories.

  “I know it isn’t what you want,” Hans continued softly, “but I think you’ll gain a lot of experience learning how everything works. You’ll be hands-on during opening and closing, and you’ll assist when we have shows and functions to attend. What do you say? Would you like some time to think on it?”

  “No,” she told him. “I mean. I know I should take the time, but I think this sounds like a wonderful opportunity to learn.”

  And no one else had called her for follow-up interviews—or an interview in general. She had been fortunate to land the few she had.