We continue this back and forth sharing until the cake is almost completely devoured. Cole looks down and realizes that he has the last piece sitting atop the fork in his hand. “Want the last bite?”
“Absolutely.”
But this time, instead of handing me the loaded fork, he raises the fork to my lips and feeds me. I can feel an errant bit of chocolate still on my lip and I stick out my tongue to try and find it.
Quick as lightning, Cole sweeps in to help. “Let me get that for you.”
His lips cover mine and he nibbles on the corner of my mouth. I gently bite his bottom lip and he wraps his arms around me, pulling me closer. Our lips and tongues move together in perfect harmony. Our breathing becomes ragged and I am lost in the moment. The entire world disappears, leaving just the two of us alone in the universe.
All I can think of is having him inside me, right here and right now. If I don’t stop myself now, I may not be able to stop at all. Is this our first date, our third, or our fourth? Either way, I’m not ready to let things get too far. Not here and not now.
The intensity of our kisses eventually slows, and we sit under the moonlight in each other’s arms.
We cuddle so closely that I am practically sitting in his lap. I just can’t seem to get close enough. His hand explores every exposed piece of skin he can find. He gently rubs my back, my shoulder, my knees, tracing invisible circles and paths. I practically combust when he begins to caress the inside of my elbow.
As for me, I have become seriously addicted to his arms. And his shoulders. I snake my hand under the sleeve of his shirt and enjoy the skin-on-skin contact that I need from him. My fingers twitch to explore more, to travel further, but there’s no rush.
By the time the movie comes to an end, it’s almost midnight. Cole and I make quick work of packing away the cooler and replacing the tarp. As we pull away from the most romantic night of my life, Cole turns and asks, “So, how did you like the movies?”
I hesitate for a moment, vacillating between the truth and fiction. I decide that when it comes to Cole, I will always try to aim for honesty. “I have no idea. I was having trouble concentrating.”
He squeezes my hand. “Me, too.”
CHAPTER 15
I SETTLE IN FOR A LONG DRIVE home. Bruce is singing about fire and desire. How fitting. I flush as I listen to the words. Cole glances at me. His mouth twitches slightly as he reaches across and places his hand on my knee, squeezing gently.
We are quiet on the drive, both lost in our own thoughts. I would love to know what he’s thinking. The way he watches me and carefully measures my every response tells me he’s still a little unsure. He thinks about things almost as much as I do. But what kind of things are still a bit of a mystery.
I cuddle up alongside him as he drives. He keeps one hand on the steering wheel and the other is safely deposited on my lap. Ever so discreetly, he inches up the hem of my skirt just enough so that he can maintain that constant contact with me, unobstructed by even the thinnest piece of fabric. He starts to draw random patterns on the inside of my thigh with his fingertips. I am smoldering in my own skin.
And I take advantage of the easy access to his tanned, muscular arm. I can’t resist running my hand up and down the length of his arm. I wrap my hand around his bulking bicep and I cannot even make it halfway around. His muscles flex at my touch, and my stomach clenches. Sheesh, his arms are the size of my thigh.
My mind wanders, wondering how it is that I got here. And how well Cole fits into my boyfriend box. There are several areas that he gets full and immediate credit for – things like speaking well, being well groomed, having good cooking and home repair skills, and holding a good job. He has all of those in spades.
I haven’t seen him with his mother yet, but from what he’s shared with me, it seems he has a very close and loving relationship with his entire family, checking off box number five.
I roll my hand across his knuckles. The skin is rough and I can feel a lifetime of hard work on every part of his hand. He’s not afraid to dig in and get his hands dirty – literally. A good strong handshake says so much about a man, and my guy has one hell of a handshake.
The only place he falters is my wish that the perfect boyfriend not be prettier than me. I don’t think there’s a single person, dead or alive, that would deny Cole’s good looks. He turns heads wherever he goes.
It’s a strange thing, trying to find words to define how I feel when other people, women in particular, openly appreciate his undeniable physical attributes. I cannot describe it as jealousy, mostly because I completely understand their fascination. I don’t feel offended or insulted, either. I think the word I’m earnestly searching for is more akin to troubled.
What happens if he catches the attention of the wrong person in the wrong place at the wrong time? I can’t deny my concerns.
Adding to my small collection of worries and concerns is the list of do’s and don’ts that my brother has outlined. Don’t go to public events together. Do go to his game, so long as we don’t make any contact with one another. Do find things to do together, but don’t go anywhere there might be large groups of people. How long can I expect Cole to tolerate this?
Will this become the first chapter in a hot and steamy romance novel with Cole as my romantic lead? Or will he turn into a minor character, just one chapter in a long and lonely epic drama?
“You’re overthinking it,” he mutters, sounding somewhat disappointed.
“I’m what?”
“You know what I’m talking about. Don’t overthink it.”
Can he read my mind? “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“You know exactly what I’m talking about. Just a few minutes ago, you were completely relaxed. Little by little, I could feel you tense up and pull away. Whatever’s rolling around in that pretty little head of yours is making you sigh and your shoulders sag.” He grabs my hand and brings it to his lips, placing a soft kiss on the back of my hand. “Talk to me.”
I fumble to find a suitable comeback, feeling unmasked. Are my doleful insecurities that transparent? All I can manage is a feeble shrug.
“That’s okay. No need to rush. We’ve got nothing but time, sweetheart.” He stretches out his arm and I scoot in a little closer.
I rest my head on his broad chest, close my eyes, and breathe deep. His familiar cologne fills the air, wrapping me in a sensually comforting cocoon. His hand roams across my shoulders, down my spine, across my waist, and back up again. He gives reassuring squeezes from time to time, slowly brushing away my doubts and concerns one square inch at a time.
By the time he leans down to place a tender kiss on the top of my head, I am putty in his hands.
I itch to explore him, too. To become reacquainted with every contour and ripple. Even with his shirt on, I can feel the lines of his defined muscles. I sigh with contentment as I listen to his slow, steady heartbeat.
I take a deep cleansing breath and begin to release my concerns and truly relax, clutching him tightly with my arm wrapped around his middle. He pulls me tighter in response and we simply hold each other as he drives us home. I watch his shirt rise and fall with his even breathing. I close my eyes and nestle into his neck, letting the warmth of his presence wash over me.
All too soon, he nudges me, and I realize that I’ve fallen asleep in his embrace. “Sorry sleepyhead, I hate to wake you, but we’re almost home.”
I sit bolt upright and stare out the window, trying to decipher the landscape. As I wake, the bright lights of the boardwalk come into view and quickly disappear as Cole pulls into a garage. “This isn’t my house,” I whisper gruffly as I try to wake.
“I know. It’s mine.”
“You said you were taking me home.”
He puts the truck in park, shuts off the lights, and hits the button to close the garage door. “True, but I never said whose home we were going to.”
Cole drifts his fingertips down the side of my jaw and tips my chi
n up so that I meet his eyes. He leans down and softly presses his lips to mine. Sighing, he cups my cheek with his hand, stroking me softly with his thumb, and kisses me deeper. I relax into his comfort, his warmth and tenderness, and return his deep kiss. He runs his hands down to my hips, lifts me, and deposits me onto his lap.
I throw my arms around his neck and curl one hand through his wonderfully thick hair. He wraps his arms firmly around my waist and clutches me tightly against him. Cole’s hand slides over my hip, cupping my rear.
Through the mental fog of feeling my lips moving against his and my fingers locking into his thick hair, I am vaguely aware that we are moving. He’s carrying me, effortlessly. I don’t know where or why, and I don’t care, as long as he doesn’t stop touching me. Or kissing me.
I feel him bump against something solid and he presses his back against it. His breath quickens along with mine, and he groans as he holds me tightly against him.
One of his hands pulls away and reaches behind him. The hand he had removed from my back is twisting around behind him, turning a doorknob.
He pushes back from the door and shoves it open. Our lips stop for a moment and I risk a glance into his eyes. My breath stops at the hunger I see in them. I can’t think. I can’t move. All I can do is stare into those deep blue, blazing eyes.
Something about the darkness, the feel of my body pressed against his and the intensity of our breath, snaps my brain off, and the last portion that holds any rational thought leaves me. All that remains is passion, no, need . . . intense, burning need.
With my legs wrapped around his waist, I can feel his erection; hard, ready, and pulsing in time with my heart. He carries me to the nearest piece of furniture, a large leather recliner. He gently places my feet back onto the ground, adjusts his shorts, and sits down. In one smooth motion, he grabs my hand, swings me around, and pulls me onto his lap. My legs straddle his and my back is pressed against his chest. I can feel his breathing growing more and more erratic.
He pushes my hair off to the side and presses his mouth against my neck. His wet kisses trail a path up to my ear as he nibbles and moans. When his hand reaches over, moves up to my chest, and slips beneath the dress and under the lace of my bra, my back instantly bows as I squeeze the arms of the chair.
The cold air shocks my skin when he pushes down the top of my dress along with the cup of my bra, exposing first one breast, and then the other. Talented fingers tug and pull and twist while the pressure builds to overwhelming levels.
“Is this okay?” he whispers in my ear. His soft, teasing breath sends wave after wave of heat down into my core, rendering me unable to breathe let alone speak. I nod. I’ve never been this turned on, this alive, this needy.
“I want to hear you say it,” he softly demands, rolling and tugging my nipple between his thumb and fingers.
Sensations zing, awakening more need. My answer comes out in a breathless rush. “Yes.”
I can feel him smile, the small hairs on his chin brushing against my shoulder.
“I want to touch you,” he growls in my ear, “and taste you, and turn you inside out.”
Holy. Mother. Of. God.
My NYU class in biology comes rushing back to me, questioning everything I learned about basic anatomy. Could it be possible for all the nerve endings in my body to be directly connected to my vagina? Because right now, I am completely aflame, every nerve ending blazing like a live wire, searching for release.
I place my hand over his and two opposing thoughts come rushing to my mind. Do I remove his hand and slow things down? Or should I encourage him to continue his ravenous assault on my senses?
Lust and need win out over patience and promise. I guide his hand lower, first across my abdomen, and then lower still, dipping beneath my skirt and placing it on the soft silk fabric of my panties. I shudder when his fingertips brush across my sex.
Cole begins to lower the zipper on the back of my dress slowly, tracing the path with his lips and tongue. A frenzy takes over and I wiggle on his lap, releasing the hem of my dress so that I can swiftly pull it up and over my head and toss it arbitrarily across the room. Cole wastes no time in removing his shirt, too, before he pulls me closer and returns his hand to my panties.
I lean back against the soft skin of his hard chest as he runs his hands all over my body. His thumb flicks across the tight peaks of my exposed nipple just as he slips a finger under the fabric of my panties, sliding softly across my wetness.
He rolls his stiff erection back and forth under me, working our hips in unison as he cups my breast. His fingers work deeper, skating through the wetness from my extreme arousal, circling, swirling, driving me insane with need. I gasp and quiver from the onslaught of sensations.
He continues to spread kisses up my neck as he strokes his fingers through the warm, slick, wetness. My breath begins to catch and my tummy starts to quiver as he continues his soft rhythmic stroking.
His finger slips up inside me, spreading me open for his bidding, fucking me slowly while I remind myself to breathe. His thumb drives me to madness, circling my clit, working my body into an all-out frenzy.
I grab whatever I can to anchor myself to the Earth as he teases devastating patterns over my clit, hooking his thrusting fingers to find the spot that has my hips wrenching off the seat. Suddenly I can’t open wide enough, can’t get close enough.
It doesn’t take long. I feel the delicious sensation beginning to take me starting in my belly and moving through me until the clinching and releasing begins. My breathing stops and I begin to tremble. My orgasm rips through my body, making me cry out. I collapse onto his chest with his fingers still inside me, milking every possible bit of overwhelming sensation from my body.
Slowly, he withdraws from me as my body twitches with aftershocks. I can barely hear him ask, “Are you okay,” above the hammering in my chest.
My heart slows and I catch my breath, allowing me to eek out a winded, “Uh-huh.”
“Good.” He kissed me quickly and urged me to stand up. “Let’s get up.”
No! I don’t want to move. In my post-orgasmic state, I cannot command my limbs to move. They just hang languidly where they have landed.
Cole slips out from beneath me and pulls me to my feet, towing me across the room. “Where are we going?”
“My bedroom,” he answers as he climbs the first step.
I slow him down before he gets any further. I look back at the discarded clothes on the floor and wonder if this is the right thing to do.
He looks at me with soft eyes and smiles. “Kenny, I’ve wanted this since the first time I saw you in the coffee shop. But you have to want it, too. If you’re not ready or if you don’t want me, just say the word. Otherwise, I’m going to keep walking up those steps and I’m not stopping until you’re lying completely naked beneath me.”
The image he puts in my imagination makes me smile.
“That’s what I thought.”
I have to hurry behind him to keep up. He closes his bedroom door behind us and stalks toward me with a hungry look on his face. “Tell me you want this,” he demands as wraps his arms around me.
“I want this.”
He backs up towards the bed in small careful steps. “Tell me you want me.”
“I want you.”
He sits down on the bed and holds me an arm’s length away. His eyes burn over my body, almost completely exposed and only partially hidden by a pair of saturated panties. “Tell me you won’t run.”
My breath catches. Can I make him that promise? Can I give him that assurance?
I allow myself the luxury of standing and staring at him. Dear God, he’s physically perfect. The muscles in his arms, chest, abs and legs are defined. He’s sporting that sexy V down his hips, disappearing into his shorts. “Not tonight,” I whisper.
He smiles. “Good.” He reaches over and plucks at the hem of my panties. “Take this off. All of it. I want to see you – all of you.”
I blush for a moment. Usually when I’ve been in similar situations, I wasn’t the only one to get naked. But there he is, leaning back on his elbows, waiting for a show.
I take a deep breath and slide down my silk panties, stepping out of them gingerly. I am now completely exposed to him and I’m not exactly sure what he expects me to do next.
He sits up as low growl escapes his lips and he hisses, “Jesus Christ, Kenny – you are so fucking beautiful. Come here,” he orders.
I take a step closer to the bed and he opens up his legs to make room for me to stand between them. He wraps one arm around my waist and pulls me close. In an instant, his mouth is on me, sucking on my breast and flicking my pert nipple with his tongue. I place my hands on his shoulders and toss my head back, letting the sensations wash over me. He uses his teeth to place just the right amount of pressure on my aching tips before moving over to give the same devotion to my other breast.
As he worships my body, I reach down and rub my hand across his erection. “Too. Many. Clothes,” I complain as I fumble with the button and zipper on his shorts.
“Shh. Let me enjoy you.”
“You’ve already had a turn to play. When will it be my turn?” I whine and he smiles against my stomach.
“You’ll get a turn, trust me, babe. But first I want to kiss this delicious body all over.”
I wiggle in his arms, impatient. “I’ve waited long enough. Can’t we fuck fast first and then have sweet sex after?”
“We aren’t going to fuck, Kenny. Even when it’s hard and fast or a little rough or a lot dirty, I’m not fucking you. In the kitchen, in the bedroom, in the back of my truck, or any damn where I want to take you, will not be fucking. Fucking is for strangers or people who don’t give a shit about each other.”
“Okay,” I whisper and close my eyes.
“Open your eyes.”
I comply.
“You’re not a fast fuck for me. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
Another Chance at Love (Another Series Book 1) Page 21
