The Winston Brothers

by Lori Foster

  With his heart thumping in slow, hard beats, Cole turned her so her back was to him, then guided her to lean slightly over the table, positioning the cue, placing her hands just so. She took her first shot and barely disturbed the colorful balls. One rolled about an inch. Shelly chuckled. “Sorry. I suppose I didn’t do it hard enough?”

  Cole felt as if he were dying by slow degrees as he once again racked the balls. “Try again, and this time, follow all the way through.”

  He straightened and she whispered, “Show me.”

  Damn. If he hadn’t wanted to so badly, he could have said no. But for some reason, Shelly drew him as no other woman had, except for Sophie. It didn’t make any sense. He hadn’t even looked at another woman in a sexual way once he’d really gotten to know Sophie and realized how perfect they’d be together.

  He walked behind her again, and this time, she bent without his instruction, her small bottom pressing into his lap while his body curved over hers. She wiggled, a soft sound escaping her, and he froze. Almost without his permission, his hands moved, from folding over her hands, to slowly slide up her arms to her elbows, then inward to hold her waist. She was so narrow, so warm. His palms rubbed over the softness of the fuzzy sweater, then higher, feeling her ribs and then the warm weight of her breasts against the backs of his hands.

  He hurt; his stomach knotted, his chest felt tight, his erection throbbed. He had to stop or he’d totally forget himself. With a stifled groan, he straightened away from her and took two steps back. Slowly, Shelly laid the cue stick aside and turned to face him.

  She tilted her head, eyes wide; something in her gaze looked almost desperate. He ignored it and drew on his nearly depleted control. “Maybe it would be better if I got one of my brothers to instruct you.”

  Distressed, Sophie felt her stomach give a sick flip at his words. He didn’t want her, even with her being so obvious, even with her making herself more appealing, he didn’t want her. She turned away and bit her lip to keep him from seeing her hot blush of mortification. She didn’t blush well, never had. While another woman might get a becoming pink flush to her cheeks, Sophie could feel hot color pulse beneath her skin, from her breasts to her hairline, turning even her nose and ears red. Her skin was so fair that any blushing looked hideous, not attractive.

  Zane stuck his head into the room. His gaze skimmed her, his brows lifted curiously, then moved on to his brother. He spoke quietly. “Mack left a while ago. The bar is nearly empty, and Chase is ready to give the last call. I’m going to head on home.”

  She felt Cole approach behind her. “All right. Drive careful. I hear the roads are crap from all the sleet and snow.”

  With escape uppermost in her mind, Sophie turned to face Cole again, a smile planted firmly in place, her blush hopefully under control. He was closer than she’d suspected, and she took a hasty step back. “Oh, I’m sorry.” A nervous laugh bubbled past her lips. “I, ah, suppose that settles the pool lesson. I should let you men finish up here and go home.”

  Cole looked cautiously undecided. Good manners won out. “We have about half an hour. Enough time for you to enter the contest if you’re still interested.”

  He kept watching her, his golden brown eyes direct, almost probing. Sophie prayed he wasn’t suspicious. If he figured her out now, she’d just die. To that end, she sidled close once more, doing things Sophie had always wanted to do but would never have the nerve to follow through on.

  One hand splayed over his chest, and she was stunned by the feel of his hard muscle, of the heat emanating from him in waves. There was no need to deliberately lower her tone; it emerged as a husky whisper as her body seemed to soak up his nearness. “Of course.”

  He covered her hand with his own, paused, then carefully removed it, holding it to his side. “The camera is in my office. You can wait here—”

  “I’d rather just come with you.” Self-preservation warred with curiosity. She needed to get away from him, to accept the pain of his rejection in solitude. But she’d always wanted to see his office, an extension of the man, knowing it would reveal so much about him.

  He had a thick, overstuffed couch in his office. Many times she’d heard one of the brothers joke about taking a nap, especially Mack, who had his schoolwork to contend with but insisted on carrying his weight at the bar. Cole had done such a fabulous job with the brothers. They were all exceptional, responsible men.

  So many times, Sophie had pictured him in that office behind the thick wooden door, dozing on the couch or sitting at his desk going over papers. She now wanted to know if the reality was the same as the fantasy, since the fantasy was evidently all she’d ever have.

  Reluctantly, Cole nodded. “All right.” He released her, putting his hand at the small of her back and guiding her forward. Just that slight touch, so simple, made her think of other things. His spread hand spanned the width of her waist. He was large all over, his hands twice the size of hers. With a small shiver, she imagined those large, rough hands on her body, covering so much of her skin with each touch. Her breasts throbbed and an aching emptiness swelled inside her.

  The light was out in his office, and the cool dimness enveloped her as they stepped inside. She didn’t quite know how she managed it, but she turned as he closed the door behind them and their bodies bumped together. Her feet seemed glued to the floor.

  “Shelly…”

  His voice was husky, not at all unaffected. She didn’t need to breathe deep to inhale his hot male scent, not when she was already close to panting, her lungs expanding in sheer excitement at the touch of his hard-muscled body against hers.

  Slowly, unable to resist, she went on tiptoe and nuzzled her face into his warm throat. God, it was as wonderful as she’d always imagined, his smell brisk and hot and stirring, his skin warm to the touch.

  His hands clasped her upper arms, his fingers wrapping completely around her, biting into her flesh. “The light is on the desk,” he muttered, but he sounded desperate, the words shallow around thick breaths.

  Sophie tried to pull back, knowing this wasn’t what he wanted, struggling to accept her defeat, but he lowered his head, cursing so softly, and his jaw brushed her temple. She swallowed hard at the near caress, aching for something she’d wanted for so long now. Sexual craving was new to her; she’d never experienced it for anyone but him, and the overwhelming need to indulge the craving and answer the burning in her body was making her crazed.

  He shifted slightly and then her belly brushed his lower body and she felt the iron-hard length of his erection like a thunderclap. It burned into her, solid and unmistakable and with a small gasp, she pushed closer, her body seeking out more contact, reassured by the discovery.

  Cole cursed again. In the next instant, his hand turned her face up and he groaned harshly, even as his mouth covered hers. Devouring, eating, holding her steady for the frenzied assault of his tongue and teeth. She’d imagined a kiss, but never this carnal mating of their mouths. Her heart rapped against her breastbone, her stomach curled tight. Helplessly, she opened her lips and accepted his tongue, all the while pressing into him, loving the feel of his excitement, the way his erection ground into her.

  He pulled his mouth away, but it wasn’t to stop.

  “Cole,” she whispered as his lips burned across her jaw, her throat, nipping and licking. His hands slid down her back, roughly grasped her bottom, and lifted her into his pelvis, his fingers plying her flesh as he moved her against him.

  She held onto his shoulders, dizzy with a building urgency and a tender relief. He wanted her.

  She moaned as he adjusted his stance, pressing her legs open to make room for his long, hard thigh, pulling her higher so she rode him. Embarrassment couldn’t quite surface, even with the newness, the intimacy of it all. This was Cole, and this was what she’d wanted since the first night she’d met him. He was all the things her aunt Maude had ever warned against, every temptation imaginable wrapped up into a gorgeous package of throbbin
g masculinity. But he was also the most incredible man, gentle and proud and caring. Strong in all the ways that counted most. Every sinful fantasy she’d ever had winged through her mind, and she wanted every one of them to come true with him.

  His open mouth pushed aside the neckline of her sweater so he could suck her soft skin against his teeth. Sophie wondered if he’d leave his mark, and hoped he would. She tilted her head to make it easier for him, and her toes curled inside her shoes at the delicious sensation of his warm mouth and tongue.

  He groaned. “Damn…”

  Somehow, he seemed to know how her breasts ached, and keeping her close with one hard hand on her buttocks, he lifted his other hand and enclosed her breast in incredible heat, his palm rasping deliberately over her nipple until she gave a raw moan of pleasure, then cuddling the soft mound gently. His mouth found hers again, swallowing her broken gasp when he lightly pinched her nipple, tugged and rolled. His tongue, warm and damp, slid into her mouth and she greedily accepted it.

  They were leaning against the door, the heat thick around them, the darkness shielding, when the knock sounded and they broke their kiss, both of them panting for breath.

  “I’ve locked everything up and I’m taking off. Just wanted you to know.” There was a low chuckle, then Chase added, “Carry on.”

  Cole’s chest moved like a bellows. Her feet were completely off the floor as she straddled his thigh, her arms tight around his neck. One hand still held her behind, and it contracted now as he seemed to fight some inner battle. She could see the white gleam of his eyes in the darkness, could feel his scrutiny.

  No, no, she begged to herself, holding the words inside with an effort. But then she was being set back on her unsteady feet and moved a good distance away—the entire length of his long, muscular arms. She felt cold, denied his body heat, and she wrapped her arms around herself. One of his hands still held her, making certain, she supposed, that she couldn’t close the distance between them, while he raked his other hand through his hair. She heard Cole’s head hit the door as he dropped it back, then twice more. His frustration was a palpable thing, shaming her, making her want to run.

  He abruptly moved away from her and opened the door. He stepped out into the hall, and she could hear the murmur of voices as he spoke to Chase.

  She wasn’t at all surprised when Cole came back to tell her, his tone steady and detached, “It’s time to go. Come on, I’ll see you to your car.”

  He didn’t touch her again, and she felt defeated. Until she remembered how wildly he’d responded to her. He wanted her. But for some reason, he didn’t want to want her. Maybe, her thinking continued, it was because he feared she might require a commitment. Did he think because she was Sophie’s sister he might be obligated to pay if he played? Did dallying with a friend’s relative imply ties she hadn’t considered? She’d led such a solitary life, she had no idea of the codes involved in male/female social relationships.

  Sophie thought maybe he was only fearful of being trapped, and she felt newly encouraged.

  The silence was almost oppressive as they slipped on their coats and Cole finished up a few last-minute things. The bar was pitch dark as they left, but when they stepped outside, the bright glow of a streetlamp lit the entire front of the building. Cole managed several locks, then turned toward her, and when Sophie glanced at him, again taking in his incredible body, she had to struggle for breath.

  Cole was still excited. She could read it on his face: the color high on his cheekbones, the clenched jaw, the heat that burned in his eyes. Her gaze skimmed lower, beneath the hem of his coat, and she saw his erection still plainly visible beneath his fly. Oh, he wanted her, all right. All she had to do was reassure him, to make certain he knew there would be no repercussions to their lovemaking.

  He took her keys from her and opened her car door. For the first time since leaving his office, he spoke. “You’re driving Sophie’s car.”

  Bolstered now by new confidence, Sophie smiled. “She insisted. We live on different schedules, with her an early bird and me a night owl, so there isn’t a conflict. And,” she added deliberately, hoping to entice him, “I won’t be in town that long. Not more than a few days.”

  He didn’t take the bait. “I see. Well, good night. It was…nice meeting you.”

  She almost laughed at that inane comment and the irony in his tone, but his face was hard, set in stone, and she didn’t want to anger him. “Oh, we’ll see each other again. You forgot to take my picture. I’ll be back tomorrow night, okay?” Playfully, trying to be bold to ensure the credibility of her ruse, she reached out one leather-gloved finger and stroked his chest. “Maybe then we’ll be able to stay on track. Or then again, maybe not.”

  His jaw locked, and as he turned away, she heard him mutter an awful curse. Sophie closed her door and started her car. Her heart was still beating too fast, her breasts still tingling, and there was a pulling sensation deep inside her, an acute emptiness that demanded attention. It felt delicious, and she wanted more. She wanted everything.

  She wanted Cole Winston.

  Chapter Three

  It had been an awful night. Cole sipped his coffee and tried to order his thoughts, but lack of sleep and extended, acute sexual frustration made his brain sluggish, hampering his efforts. The events at the bar, the sensual overload, and then the smothering guilt had conspired against him to make him toss and turn in between dreams of making love to a woman who looked and felt and tasted like Sophie but reacted like Shelly. Every so often, the two had combined to provide dreams so damned erotic he’d awake with his own raw groan caught in his throat, his body sheened in sweat, every muscle hard and straining.

  He could still taste her, still feel the damp heat of her lips and tongue, and the warm softness of her mound as she’d worked herself against him. Her breast had felt perfect in his palm, small and sweetly curved, the nipple thrusting, eager for his mouth. And he’d wanted so badly to suck on her, to draw her deep until she begged for more.

  He swallowed hard and closed his eyes, heat washing over him in waves. His hands trembled as he groped for his coffee mug and took a scalding gulp.

  He had to talk to Sophie. When he admitted to her how he felt, how damned attracted he was to her, how badly he wanted her, she might bolt. If she wasn’t interested in him, he could lose her friendship, and that wasn’t something he even wanted to contemplate. But at least his confession should take care of Shelly, removing her as a temptation. He couldn’t go through that again, couldn’t chance the strength of his control. Hell, he’d been a hair away from laying her across his desk and stripping those damn flesh-hugging jeans down her long legs. He would have taken her hard, in a hot rush, and he had a feeling she’d have liked it.

  But he couldn’t exchange one woman for another; it wouldn’t be fair to any of them. And the simple truth was, he wanted Shelly because she was the exact image of his Sophie. But she wasn’t Sophie, and he didn’t want to blow a chance with Sophie by missing that distinction.

  He glanced at the clock as he finished his third cup of extra-strong coffee. He was seldom up this early, not with his hours at the bar, but sleep had been impossible. The caffeine hadn’t kicked in yet, but it was almost nine-thirty, and by the time he got to Sophie’s boutique, she should be there. Shelly was right about that, Sophie was an early bird. He’d better go before he lost his nerve.

  That thought made him laugh because no woman had made him nervous since he’d turned sixteen. But then, no woman had ever mattered like Sophie did. He’d been waiting seven months for her. Ridiculous. It was time he put an end to things.

  A half hour later, Cole opened the oak and etched glass door of the boutique, hearing the tinkling of the overhead bells. It was a classy little joint, filled with feminine scents and at the moment, lots of Valentine decorations. A small blonde-haired woman was perched in the corner, preparing to dress a nude mannequin in an arrangement of filmy night wear. She glanced up, looking at him over the
rim of her round glasses.

  “I’ll be right with you,” she said around a mouthful of straight pins that she held in her teeth.

  “I came to see Sophie. Is she in?”

  The woman straightened with new interest and quickly folded the garment in her hand, laying it aside and placing the pins on top. “No, I’m sorry. She’s running a little late today. She called to ask me to open for her. Was she expecting you?”

  Cole shook his head. It wasn’t like Sophie to be late, and a flash of concern hit him broadside. “She’s not ill?”

  “No, I gathered she’s just extra tired today.” The woman smiled. “I’m Allison, her assistant. Aren’t you the oldest Winston brother who owns the Winston Tavern? I saw your picture in the paper recently.”

  Cole twisted his mouth in a wry smile, well used to the feminine teasing. “Guilty. I hope you ignored the article. The paper loves catching me and my brothers unaware.”

  Allison’s grin spread as she gave him a coy, slanted look. “It was a very nice shot. I saved the article.”

  Her blatant flirting didn’t bother him; he’d deflected plenty of female interest in his days, gently, so he wouldn’t ever hurt a woman’s feelings.

  Unfortunately, he hadn’t deflected Shelly very well.

  Cole abruptly changed the subject. “Do you know when Sophie will be in?”

  “Sorry, I don’t. She just said later around a very loud yawn. I think she’s zonked and getting a late start this morning, judging by how she sounded.”

  “She was probably up late with her sister.” He frowned with the thought. What if Shelly had already related the events of the evening to Sophie? What if she’d told Sophie how he’d kissed her…and more? They’d probably sat up all night gossiping about him and his cursed lack of control.

  Damn it, Shelly had no business interfering with Sophie’s rest. He knew Sophie worked long hours, and if anyone was going to disturb her sleep, he wanted it to be him.