“Tonight?”
“Yeah. From sitting alone in the dark, feeling sorry for myself.” She looks up at me. “Again.”
The way she’s looking at me right now makes my chest tight.
She’s beautiful. I’ve always known that on some distant, objective level. But up close like this, with the stars coming out above us and her face turned toward mine, it hits different. The curve of her mouth. The way her eyelashes cast shadows on her cheeks. The small freckle near her left ear that I never noticed before.
I want to fix everything for her. Want to track down every person who’s ever hurt her and make them answer for it. Want to take away every problem and every fear until the only thing left is that smile.
It’s impossible. It’s not how life works.
But sitting here with her, I can almost believe in impossible things.
“Cole?” Her voice is soft.
“Yeah?”
“Thank you. For being here. For listening. For—” She stops, something shifting in her expression. “For making me feel like I’m not alone in this.”
“You’re not alone.”
She’s still looking at me. Still close enough that I can count the shades of green in her eyes. Her hand comes up to rest on my chest, right over my heart.
And then she kisses me.
Not hesitant. Not asking permission. Just her mouth on mine and her fingers curling into my shirt, and every thought in my head going completely silent.
She pulls away suddenly. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
I don’t let her finish.
I pull her back in and kiss her harder this time, swallowing whatever apology she was about to make. My hand slides into her hair, and she makes this slight sound against my mouth that drives me crazy.
Rachel swings a leg over me, straddling my lap. Her flowy skirt, some thin gauzy thing, rides up, baring the smooth curve of her thighs.
The fabric catches the breeze, fluttering open like it’s teasing me, showing flashes of soft skin. My hands find her waist, her warmth seeping through the shirt, and I grip hard, feeling the heat of her under my calloused palms.
She grinds against me, slow at first, a deliberate roll of her hips that makes my breath catch. The pressure is intense, and I’m hard in seconds, straining against the denim.
Her eyes lock on mine, green and wild, and she does it again, harder, her lips parting as she feels me respond.
“You’re asking for it, Rachel,” I rasp, my voice low, almost a growl.
She leans in, kissing me fiercely, her tongue sliding against mine before she pulls back just enough to whisper, “Please give it to me. Please.”
The words are broken, desperate, caught between kisses that don’t stop, her lips brushing mine with every syllable.
My hand slides under her shirt, tracing the curve of her ribs, her skin warm and smooth under my calloused fingers. The fabric bunches easily, giving me access, and I trail my hand down, slipping beneath her skirt.
My fingers find the edge of her underwear, and I tease her through the thin fabric, feeling the heat, the dampness that tells me she’s as gone as I am. “Fuck,” I mutter, the word slipping out as my thumb brushes her, drawing a soft moan from her throat.
She’s so wet, so ready, and it’s all I can do to keep my head straight.
I fumble with my belt, the metal buckle clinking sharply in the quiet night, my hands shaking with need.
I yank the zipper down, freeing myself, the cool air a shock against my skin.
“Help me get it in, baby.”
