Cole eased his leg down from its unreal position somewhere behind his ear. “Is it? I tie it back so much I forget how long it is half the time.”
“I like it.”
“Yeah? Gives you something to hold on to, eh?”
Cole’s voice was so smooth it was hard to tell if he was being filthy or not, but a thrill ran through me all the same.
I let my hands drop and turned away.
He caught my chin and forced me to look back. “I like your hands in my hair.”
“Do you?”
“Yes. And that’s brand new for me. No one else gets to touch it.”
“No one?”
“Nah, it annoys me, but with you it feels different.”
“Different how?”
“You have a light touch. It feels like you could play with my hair all night and not demand anything else from me.”
I couldn’t imagine demanding anything from him, but his words made an odd kind of sense. I lay down beside him and let my hands drift back to his hair. He watched me as I combed through it and twisted strands around my fingers, and he was right: I could happily have done it all night. His hair was amazing.
But so was the rest of him. I made myself stop, and ghosted my hands down his chest, retracing the path I’d mapped last time of the places that made him shiver.
His skin was as warm and smooth as I remembered. He lay back on the rug and let me touch him all over, from his high cheekbones to his chest, to the ridges and bumps of his abdomen. His waistband teased me, but I tried to ignore it. My dick had been hard since I’d put a palm to his skin; I could live without knowing I didn’t have the same effect on him.
“Take your T-shirt off.”
“Hmm?”
“Your T-shirt,” Cole repeated. “It’s only fair.”
A low chuckle escaped me. “Nothing about this is fair. I don’t know what to do with you.”
“Yes, you do.”
“I really don’t.”
“It’s not that different to women. Just do what feels good.”
“That simple, eh?”
“I think so, but I’m not the fucking oracle, so...”
I snorted out another laugh. “We had a horse called Oracle once. He kept trying to mount the donkeys.”
Cole smirked, but it was cut short by my knuckles brushing his nipple. He caught my wrist. “Take your T-shirt off.”
“That an order?”
“If it needs to be.”
He was joking and so was I, but I liked him telling me what to do. It stopped me fretting about doing the wrong thing and making a twat of myself, when all I wanted was to strip him naked and stare at him while I worked up the courage to move on. Losing my own clothes wasn’t a priority until his hands hit my torso and I remembered how it felt.
Cole pulled me over his body, coaxing me to straddle him. The position made it impossible to hide the bulge in my sweatpants, but his cock pressing against me was all the consolation I needed.
