Cole looks shell-shocked. There’s something wild and unguarded about his eyes. Like he’s raw, filleted and left to keep fighting. But he keeps me pressed to his chest like I’m his to protect, take care of, and warm. I hate how much I like it, how much I want to keep him like this.
Not that I want to keep getting hurt or almost hurt, but to see him actually being more than repressed is ... astounding. It’s overwhelming. I swallow with difficulty when we get to the guest house and he sets me down long enough to open the door and help me through.
He’s moving with purpose, like everything else has fallen away. His hand stays wrapped around mine as he opens the door.
I clear my throat, suddenly aware of how soaked I still am. “I—I have some men’s sweats. In case it gets cold. I want to be comfortable,” I add, flustered. “They might fit you. I can dry your clothes and—”
Cole doesn’t look back. Not at the house. Not at anything else.
He’s watching me.
Before I can finish the thought, he lifts me again, kicks the door shut behind us, and carries me straight to the counter. He sets me on it carefully, close enough that my knees brush his hips. His hands frame my face, thumbs brushing my cheeks as he pushes my damp hair back. Then he leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to my neck.
“Cole,” I whimper, my hands hovering uselessly at my sides. I don’t touch him. I don’t want to break this.
“You’re okay,” he breathes. “You’re alive. That’s enough.”
His mouth traces along my pulse, slow and grounding. My face burns, heat rushing everywhere at once, but I don’t care. He’s here. He’s touching me. He didn’t walk away.
“You said…” I swallow. “You said you regretted last time.”
He stills.
Drawing back, he cups my face in both hands, searching my expression like he needs to be sure. “Tell me to stop,” he says quietly. “If you don’t want this.”
He leans closer, forehead nearly touching mine. “Or tell me you want this as much as I do.”
“I want you,” I whisper.
That’s all I get out before he kisses me. It’s hungry, but with an edge that’s so tender and soft, so pleading and hopeful that I can’t avoid a moan. His tongue swirls with mine and he coaxes me closer, pulling my legs around his hips. He massages my thigh with one hand while holding the nape of my neck in the other.
“I’ll take care of you,” he says between kisses before his hands find the hem of my shirt and pull it off, tossing it to the side. He takes off his own shirt too, tossing it with a wet thwack. I pant and slowly touch his chest, enjoying the sprinkling of chesthair, and the line of hair that leads down his abs, under his belly button, and to his crotch. “Such good fucking care of you.”
“Cole, you ...”
He undoes my shorts and I lift my hips, willing, welcoming, everything. He’s a fantasy. I’ve fantasized about him almost nightly. I’ve touched myself so much that I can barely get myself off anymore because I expect it all.
His mouth melds to mine, like it’s made to kiss me, like he’s made to be right here. His hands slide up the back of my thighs to cup my ass and he brings me closer to him, so I feel the chill of his belt against my belly. When one of his fingers traces my pussy lips, I gasp and draw back.
Cole doesn’t flinch, he doesn’t hesitate, he just kisses down my chest, biting my bra and growling in his throat as he tries to rip it from my skin. The thin cotton snaps back into place and I whimper as he traces my pussy lips again.
“W-wait, I ...” I moan as he licks my nipple through the thin cotton and tries biting again, his teeth grazing me through the fabric, teasing me. I gently cup his face in my hands. I don’t want him to run, but I don’t want to lie to him either. I lick my lips as I study his eyes. “I haven’t done this before. Not with ... not with anyone.”
He pauses for a moment, a moment I’m terrified is going to mean he’s not going to follow through, that he’s going to pull away again. Instead, he takes a slow breath. I stroke through his hair, nibbling my raw bottom lip, then lean in to kiss him slowly, running my tongue between his lips gently.
“This is my first time.You’remy first,” I whisper. “I’m okay with this. Are ...”
“You’ll never need another man,” he growls, pulling me closer and kissing me with near feral intensity, like he can brand his passion and hunger on me. He picks me up, his finger still teasing my pussy again and again, stroking, working me up, making me so wet that I can feel how empty I am. “Not after what I’m going to show you, give you, how good I’m going to make you feel.”
He drops me into bed gently, then lays me back, one hand working the clasp on my bra until the band loosens. I pry it off, tossing it.
“So beautiful, soft, warm,” he lists, continuing to stroke my sides, to layer kisses across my neck and chest. “All mine to appreciate and savor. Mine to make come.”
I whimper, sure he’s going to go as wild and insane as he has in my fantasies, but he takes his time, slowly kissing across my breasts, paying special attention to my nipples until I’m nearly convinced I can come from that alone.
“Cole,” I moan.
“Say my name, beautiful Sofia. Sing it,” he growls against my skin as he continues down my belly. “So sweet, so responsive, so wonderful.”
