“Colette, Cole… I—” My hand wraps around his length, cutting off his words. “I’m— wait, I?—”
And then the mother fucker comes in his pants.
“Fuck, fuck. No, shit, Cole.” His string of curses fill the room, and I can’t help the surprised laugh that pops out.
Maneuvering my body off of his, I find a towel in the linen closet, wetting it with warm water before bringing it back to the bedroom. Ben is looking like a man who had his cake and ate it too—not even slightly bashful. “I cannot believe you just came. I barely touched you!”
He just shrugs. A small smile dancing across his lips. “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever done. I was barely hanging by a thread when you turned around, as it was.”
I hum in response, not truly believingthatwas the hottest thing Ben Bardot has ever done. “I’m taking a bath. You can let yourself out once you’ve cleaned up.”
“Wha—wait.” He scrambles off the bed, not without difficulty since his hands are still bound together. “Can’t we… I don’t know, hang out?”
Nowhe has the audacity to look bashful.
Carefully, I untie his hands, only replying with, “No,” when he’s free.
“No?” Is he… sad?
“No. We aren’t going to be friends, remember? You agreed to that.” I pull my green silk robe off the hook, wrapping it snugly around my exposed body.
“But… but I just made you come! I know it was good, don’t try to tell me it wasn’t.”
I pat him a few times on his stupidly chiseled pec. “Yes, it was very good. Thank you for that orgasm. If you are still in my apartment when I get out of the bathtub, it will never happen again.” I give him a condescending grin and he sticks his tongue out at me.
“Fine,” he concedes, taking his dirty boxers off and wiping himself down with the washcloth. There’s a small tattoo on his hip, something I hadn’t previously noticed, but he turns awaybefore I’m able to get a good look. “But this discussion isn’t over, Colette.”
It is, but I’ll let him believe that.
“Whatever you say, Bardot. See you around.” With that, I step into the bathroom, shutting the door in his beautiful, barely tolerable face.
“You okay, Benny boo?” Gabe teases from where he’s lounging on the couch. Jules and I are tackling dinner tonight, and it appears that Gabe is content to leave us to it.
“I’m fine,” I drawl, not sounding fine even to my own ears. “Why?”
Jules eyes me suspiciously. “I think the onions are small enough, brother.”
Looking down I realize he’s right. I’ve pulverized what were supposed to be chunks of onions for our salsa. “Shit, sorry,” I mutter, placing the knife gently on the counter.
“I’m going to ask you again, you okay?” Gabe sits up this time, actually listening.
I’m not sure if I’m ready to talk about whatever the fuck happened with Cole, but I also trust my brothers implicitly. “Yes.” I pause. “No. I don’t know.”
“Would you like to talk about it?” Jules asks. He’s always so matter of fact in everything he does.
“Have you ever miscommunicated with a… partner?”
“Yes,” both of my brothers answer at the same time. Then Gabe clarifies, “We’re talking about like relationship type partners, right? You aren’t having issues with a business partner, are you?”
“You both are my business partners,” I deadpan. “Yes, it’s an… intimate partner.”
“So, Colette Russell finally paid you a modicum of attention?” Jules smirks knowingly at my reaction to that question. “C’mon, Ben. There’s a fine line between love and hate. You and Cole have always been at each other’s throats. It was only a matter of time before you wereat each other’s throats.” He winks to emphasize the distinction.
“That’s why you really moved back, isn’t it?” Gabe asks.
Yes.
“No, I came back for the shop.”
