Fast Lane

by Margot Radcliffe

  He was laughing again but couldn’t hold back his desire to touch her so he turned his chair to face her and then lifted her out of hers and into his lap.

  With a surprised squeak, she squirmed in his lap. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m sorry, Blair,” he said, dropping a kiss on her neck. “But you’re too adorable for me not to touch right now.”

  He heard her sigh and brushed his nose against her ear, his lips traveling to the soft line of her jaw. “You’re not a normal man,” she claimed, but her head fell to the side, exposing her neck for him as his lips ventured farther down. He drew in a deep breath, her scent strongest there, sugar cookies and earth and sun. He licked the dip in her throat wondering if there was a chance in hell he’d be able to convince her to let him take her on her porch in the bright sunshine of the afternoon where any old person could come driving up the dusty lane and see them.

  “I’ve heard that before,” he told her. “But I’ve never had much cause to be normal.” He slid the remnants of their lunch to the side, ceramic clanking. Then he leaned her back onto the table and picked up his glass of rosé. “Besides, would a normal man do this?” He proceeded to pour a thin stream of the pale blush wine over the tip of her breast, staining the pristine white satin of her shirt the same color as her skin.

  “What the hell are you doing?” she asked, watching as he poured more wine over her collarbone and leaned down to lick it up with his tongue. He sucked on a nipple, loved that it beaded underneath the fabric. He undid the clasp and pulled the bra off, taking a long look at her pale breasts in the afternoon, sun-kissed and golden before pulling one wet nipple into his mouth.

  Letting her go, he met her eyes with a grin. “I just thought I’d try my own version of a wine pairing.” He sampled the other nipple, tasting the sweet wine with her faintly salty skin before returning his gaze to her.

  Blair’s head shook and he watched her plop it back down onto the wooden table with a dull thud.

  “I give up.”

  He laughed, getting back to the hard work of tasting her. “I knew I’d wear you down eventually.”

  But as he stripped the rest of her bare in the sun, he was very worried that in the process he’d be the one who couldn’t let go.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  BLAIR STOOD IN front of Cole’s door in Louisiana, her heart pounding so furiously hard in her chest that she thought she might faint. This was probably a mistake. Just another crash and burn in Blair’s history of epic relationship fails.

  But something had changed between them on Cole’s last visit because for the first time in their acquaintance, he’d been downright taciturn, which was totally unlike him. And it turned out, the why of it wouldn’t leave her alone. Why, in fact, did he keep coming back to see her? It couldn’t just be about the sex because although incredible, he could find anyone. Which meant that the idea that he wanted her specifically had taken hold and wouldn’t let go even as she knew she was heading straight into folly. Hope, apparently, wasn’t done having its way with her.

  So with a silent prayer and a deep breath, she knocked on Cole’s front door in Baton Rouge.

  His sat house by a pond just like he’d said. It was a gorgeous French Creole house with double front doors, thick columns that started on the bottom floor and thinned out on the second, surrounded an enormous wraparound porch she’d had to climb a wide staircase to reach. Towering old oak trees with limbs as long as school buses had shaded the white pebble driveway as she’d ridden in with her rental car.

  He hadn’t been able to come to California on this trip because of an obligation at home, but he’d invited her. She’d declined, thinking that this would be the break they needed. Their growing attachment was risky and she knew it was time to do something because she’d been racked with disappointment at the thought of not seeing him this week.

  But then her ex had reappeared in her life like a bad dream. Like his wife had done, he’d tracked her down at one of her speaking engagements. And because she’d blocked his number and email address before she’d even left the hotel bar that day with his wife, they’d never had a real breakup, nor had he known why she’d stopped returning all his communication full stop.

  Well, they’d had a real breakup now.

  Seeing his face had brought everything roaring back, but this time, her anger and guilt were finally directed toward whom it belonged—that lying, cheating, unworthy jerk. After his pitiful barrage of excuses and bullshit explanations and lies about how he was divorced now and had been planning to do it the entire time they were together (aka the cheater’s refrain), she’d unleashed a torrent of rage on him that had left her stunned. She’d been holding in so much angst, she hadn’t known how deep it went.

  Then she’d direct messaged his wife on social media about the incident because she was no longer a party to his grossness.

  The whole ordeal had left her shaken and still angry. But also a little liberated. He was so clearly to blame and seeing his guilty face had only driven the point home. And immediately afterward, despite her mom making sure she was okay and the threats to enact physical harm on him from Nate, the only person she’d wanted to see was Cole.

  So she’d taken what was probably an foolish leap of faith and bought a plane ticket.

  The waffling she’d done between then and now would win awards in the Museum of Indecision because as much as she wanted to see Cole, this was not in their plan. The plan was that this was not the plan.

  Once on the plane, the decision had come with its own set of personal horrors. Namely the fear of admitting that she had actual feelings for Cole, a man who was a one-night stand and did not fit into her life in any way, shape or form. Definite and unwanted and epically terrifying feelings for Cole. It wasn’t smart for her to pretend there could be something between them, but as the weeks stretched on with only phone calls between them, she’d ached to see him again.

  It was as if finally letting go of her past had let her see that there could be a real future with Cole. It was like standing on the edge of a cliff with her arms outstretched just basically waiting for someone to push her off.

  When his front door didn’t immediately open, bolts of anxiety attacked her. What if he didn’t want to see her? What if he’d been lying the entire time and his wife answered the door instead? These were the types of thoughts that had plagued her in the week following the encounter with her ex.

  The nervousness dragged out as she waited, the time stretching interminably. Her fingers were sweaty and maybe so were her ears? Her entire body felt like she’d only recently been allowed to remove her finger from an electrical socket.

  She told herself she’d ring the bell only one more time, then go get herself a room in a hotel. However, as soon as her hand lifted to press the button for the last time, the door flew open, revealing a wet Cole with a towel swung carelessly around his waist. “Good lord, I don’t want any—”

  The words stuck in his throat when he saw her standing there, his head jutting forward, mouth open in shock. “Blair?” he whispered, as if not quite wanting to believe she was there, as if something louder might scare her away.

  “Sorry I didn’t call,” she told him. “I thought I’d try my own Cole-size surprise.”

  He looked at her from head to toe, his smile growing obscenely large when he met her eyes again. “You flew here to see me?” he asked.

  “Well, yeah, you invited me,” she reminded him. “And you’ve been doing it for me.”

  That silly grin warned her that he was about to say something ridiculous, and she found that she couldn’t wait. “I’m a man and sex was involved. Frankly, I’ve done more for less.”

  When she returned his comment with an extremely bland look, he only laughed and pulled her into his house. It was lovely inside, an old rambling country house with bare wooden floors in a houndstooth pattern, and massive r
oom-sized rugs in the dining room and sitting rooms that were off to the sides of the foyer. But she barely had time to even look at the rest before he swept her into his arms and carried her up a grand staircase. His room had a large king bed with a fluffy white duvet and carved antique furniture—an open door to a steaming bathroom spoke to the fact that she’d interrupted his shower.

  He dropped her unceremoniously onto his bed and pulled off his towel before climbing over her.

  “My bag is downstairs,” she pointed out.

  Cole sighed. “Good Christ, Blair, do you need it right now? I’m dying here,” he muttered, then he stopped in his tracks. “Did you bring condoms?”

  “That’s why I need my bag,” she said, and he let out a relieved breath.

  “I take it all back, sweetheart,” he said, bounding off the bed to put on his towel. Then he was out the door and with a second alone, Blair allowed herself to smile. She was glad she’d come, and before she knew it he was tugging her bag into his room while stripping himself of the white terry cloth once again.

  “Where?”

  “In my toiletry bag,” she instructed. “And you’re welcome.” He all but leaped back on the bed once he’d found what he was looking for, perching on all fours as he looked down at her. “I can’t believe you’re here and that you’re so goddamn smart that you thought to bring protection.”

  Then he finally, finally, brought his lips to hers, the kiss she’d been imagining since she’d booked her plane ticket. If this was all they did it would still be worth it. “I must be legendary in bed for you to do all that.”

  Blair shook her head. “Sure, you’ll go down in the books, but do you think I might be able to take these gross clothes off now? I’ve been traveling all day to get here.”

  “Well, hell,” Cole said, lifting up from the bed. “Why didn’t you just say so? I had to hop out of the shower to come to the door anyway so I’ve got no problem finishing up with you.”

  So saying, he didn’t even let her sit up on her own, as if he couldn’t bear not to be touching her. He stripped off her shoes and clothes and carried her to the shower.

  “You know I can walk, don’t you?” she asked, laughing.

  “I’m just not ready to believe you aren’t really here,” he admitted, giving her a shy smile. “I figure if I keep hold of you, you won’t disappear on me.”

  Blair wasn’t a romantic, at least she hadn’t been for a long time, but the words touched something inside of her she hadn’t known was still there and she found herself batting back tears. Tightening her hold around his neck, she kissed him, letting everything she felt flow into it, the anxiety, the excitement, the affection, the gratitude that he’d helped bring her back to life. He was a man worth traveling for and she hoped if nothing else came out of their time together that he’d at least accepted that he was worthy again as well.

  “I’m going to put you down now but wait over there so you don’t get a blast of cold water,” he instructed, pointing to the shower’s vestibule. She did as she was told, watching as he played with the tap and tested the water before crooking his finger for her to join him.

  “I was real torn up that I wasn’t going to be able to make it back to California this time and that you didn’t want to come with me to Louisiana,” Cole admitted, pushing back her hair as the water dampened it. “But I understood, and I’m thankful as hell that you changed your mind.”

  He kissed her again, his tongue running along hers, widening her mouth so he could deepen the contact, explore and take over her mouth. His arms wrapped around her, like tight bands of steel unwilling to let her go.

  “How long?” he asked when they finally came up for air.

  She shrugged. “The whole week if you want me here,” she admitted.

  Cole shook his head. “I want you here.”

  Then his hands were all over her, caressing her nipples as the rain shower fell over them, water racing down her skin. His already-hard cock bobbed against her slick skin—the deprivation she’d been subjected to in his absence resulting in the pounding need inside her body.

  Grabbing the soap and washcloth, Cole began to systematically clean her off, letting her stand fully in the spray of water.

  “We’re gonna have a hell of a time,” he promised, wiping the last of the soap from her chest before pumping the shampoo from the handy dispenser and lathering it up in his hands first. “Can you imagine just what we could get up to without a clock counting down our time together? Now just close your eyes and quit glaring at me so I can clean this filthy mop of yours.”

  She did as he instructed, which meant she had to resort to crossing her arms over her chest to communicate her displeasure at his antics. Not that it ever did any good and not that she wanted it to. She liked Cole just as he was.

  So she suffered through her rising lust as he carefully cleaned her hair, his blunt fingertips gently massaging her scalp and lathering her hair down to the ends that reached the middle of her back before giving her a rinse. He let her do the conditioner as he scrubbed himself the rest of the way clean from when she’d interrupted him, but then before she’d fully rinsed he was pulling her against him again, kissing her like he’d never stop.

  “Blair,” he murmured against her lips, “I’ve fucking missed the shit out of you.” His hand clasped the back of her head as his other dropped to her waist, pulling her in closer to him until not even a piece of paper could fit between their bodies.

  “I couldn’t stay away,” she told him honestly, reaching back to grab the condom he’d brought into the shower. Her skin was scalding hot and not from the water either. She was burning for him, arousal lighting up every nerve ending. Just the thought of him worked her up and the two weeks they’d been apart had simply compounded it, drawn out the anticipation and wanting until it was a living, breathing thing of its own.

  Out of the direct spray, he took the condom wrapper she’d already opened and slid the condom onto his waiting cock. “Have you been thinking about me when you get off?” he growled, rubbing the callused skin of his thumb against her engorged clit.

  She nodded, head falling back as he moved over her, increasing the speed and pressure with her every sigh of pleasure.

  “What did you think about?” he asked, adding a finger inside of her. “Fuck, you’re wet, Blair.”

  Blair felt the blush climb up her neck and over her face, but didn’t care much either since she could barely think of anything when he touched her like this. He was so cocky, so sure of his ability to give her pleasure, but always somehow so amazed when he was presented with evidence of it. It was a strangely endearing quality that just made Cole a singularly complex human.

  She brought her gaze up to meet his again, his eyes dark and hooded and suddenly no-nonsense, as he awaited her answer. “I thought about exactly what you’re doing now,” she admitted. Then went further. “I thought about you in my mouth.”

  Blair started to kneel down to make that vision a reality but Cole shook his head. “Not this time, sweetheart, I’m too wound up,” he said, stroking a hand over his dark, straining cock. “Why don’t you turn around for me, hands on the wall, ass out.”

  Combusting with the need to have him inside of her, she complied readily, a rush of liquid at her core as he kicked her legs wider apart. His warm, wet body was at her back, the smell of his own fresh and masculine body wash lingering in the steam as he positioned himself at her opening. They were both out of the water now and the droplets were chilling on her skin but the steam was trapped inside the shower, warming her along with his body.

  And finally, he slid into her with a tortured groan.

  “Thank god,” he whispered in her ear, his voice choked. “Thank fucking god you came.”

  She nodded, her breath already coming fast as her inner muscles clenched around him.

  “Oh yeah, Blair, milk my cock. I lov
e that,” he gritted, his rhythm catching. After a few preliminary thrusts, he took her arms and lifted them up the sides of the tiled shower so that they were spread like her legs. He was in complete control of her body, his hands gliding back down her arms, raising goose bumps as he went, his mouth buried in the crook of her neck, his hands perching on her waist.

  He repeatedly thrust into her, grinding against her ass to go deep. Gripping her ass cheeks he angled her better so he could reach that spot inside her that drove her over the edge. He hit it again and again until she was wild against him, squirming and crying for release. Then he was pulling her back and bending her over the shower bench, barely pausing before crashing into her again, her hoarse cries echoing in the glass-enclosed shower.

  With a thrust that would have had her losing purchase had it not been for him holding her up, she came on a long wail of release, quickly followed by him stiffening behind her and gasping out his own.

  “Sweet Lord,” Cole muttered, carefully setting her to rights on the slippery shower floor, letting the spray wash away the evidence of what they’d just done. “You oughta come visit more often, Blair,” he said. “That was the best surprise I’ve ever gotten.”

  Blair grinned as he handed her a towel. “The orgasm or the visit?”

  “Both,” he said, grinning back. He gave her his robe to wear while he pulled on a pair of worn-out boxers. “You want dinner or a nap?”

  “Nap,” she said, feeling lethargic and sated.

  Cole threw back the covers and followed her into the bed, dimming the lights and turning on some music as he did so. This was part of the habit they’d gotten into. He’d visit, they’d fall on each other, ravenous, then veg out in bed or in front of the television. When Blair woke up again it was still dark out but she felt rested enough.

  She looked over to see Cole propped up on the bed doing a crossword puzzle, of all things. “I didn’t sleep too long, did I?”