13
jenna
The house is fairly quiet, minus the kitchen where the catering staff is bustling around and the few guests who’ve filtered inside for the restrooms. I make my way through the spacious rooms of the first floor, not bothering with any of the open areas. If Cole’s in here somewhere, he’s going to be where no one can bother him—that means a place away from all the commotion and preferably a room with a door that locks. The guest suite is immediately crossed off my list since there’s a restroom right next to it. That only leaves one other room on the first floor that would provide him with the ultimate solitude: his father’s study. Making my way through the grand foyer, I stop just outside the double doors and lift my hand to knock. For a moment I contemplate if I should even be doing this. He left the party for a reason, to get away from people, and here I am barging in on his privacy. To my own horror, I knock anyway.So much for giving him some space.
“Cole?” I softly say as I lean toward the door. “It’s me, Jenna.”
I stand there for what feels like an eternity, curious as to whether he’s even in there, and just as I’m about to leave to check the second floor, the door slowly cracks open a few inches. Tentatively, I push it farther and enter the study.
“Close the door and lock it, please,” Cole says with his back turned to me as he crosses the room.
I do as he requests andstandwith my back pressed against the door as I take inthe space.I’ve only been in here a few times and never on good terms. Emma and I often referred to it in our teenage years as the “lecture room”—which is pretty self-explanatory.
Cole takes a seat behind his father’s massive desk, placing his face in his hands and his elbows on his knees. It’s a sight that breaks my heart. I can’t imagine what’s going through his head right now, and even though I want to know, I don’t ask.
With slow and easy steps, I make my way over to him, pausing to retrieve his suit jacket from the floor and neatly lay it over the edge of the desk.
“You don’t have to do that,” he mumbles through his hands.
I smile, even though he’s not looking at me. “I don’t have to do a lot of things.” Moving closer, I stand in front of him and rest my hand on his shoulder, while my other gently brushes through his hair. We stay like that for a while, not speaking, not moving, as I attempt to comfort him.
“I’m so fucked up, Jen,” Cole says, finally breaking the silence. “I should be happy and enjoying the welcome I’ve received, yet here I am hiding out in my parents’ house because I … I don’t feel like I deserve it.”
Tears prick my eyes at the agony in his voice. “Cole,” I say in sympathy.
He reaches for me then, placing his hands on my hips and pulling me to him as he rests his forehead against my stomach. “Why am I like this?”
My throat is thick as I reply, “You’re holdingon toa lot of guilt for something that wasn’t your fault. No one blames you for what happened.”
Cole releases a short, sardonic laugh.
Finding his response odd, I place my fingers beneath his chin and tip his face up to look at mine. My question dissolves, though, as I gaze into his wounded eyes. There’s so much we need to talk about, but for the life ofmeI can’t bring myself to ask him anything. It scares me, the answers I may get, but I’m mostly scared of causing him more unnecessary pain. I stroke my fingers along his face, through his hair, and the short stubble along his jaw. “I want to help you, Cole,” I say. “I just need you to tell me how.”
Taking hold of my hand, Cole turns into my wrist and presses his lips to my skin. “Just be with me.”
My chest aches and burns as I try to hold it together. “I’m here. For as long as you want me to be.”
“Do you mean that?” heasks,and cups my jaw in his palm.
“Of course,” I say, and my eyelashes flutter as his thumb strokes my cheek.
His hand slides around to the back of my neck, and our lips meet as he pulls me in. There’s no rush. No hurry. He kisses me with leisure, just sweet, feather-light movements of his lips against mine. It makes me feel cherished. Worshiped even. And I wonder how it’s even possible for him to make me feel these things and forget about the rest of the world when he’s fighting his own inner battle.
Guilt creeps into my bones, and it’s me now who feels undeserving. Here is this broken shell of a man makingmefeel cherished. Makingmefeel worshiped. All while I stand there and graciously accept what he offers.
The need to make him feel what I feel consumes me. Tilting my head to the side, I attempt to deepen the kiss—dipping my tongue out to test the waters. Without missing a beat, Cole’s tongue glides against mine as he grips handfuls of my skirt at my hips to pull me closer. I straddle his thighs and continue to kiss him, making my intentions known, as the leather chair rocks backward with a soft creak from the sudden movement.
This I can give him. Because I know for a fact that when I give myself to him, there isn’t another thought in his mind. It’s just me and him, and the rest of the world and all of our problems just disappear.
Cole breaks our kiss long enough to brush my hair from my face and ask, “Are you sure you want to do this?”
I nod and try to slow my breathing. There’s no way I’m backing out of this now. I’m so worked up just from kissing him that if we stop I may combust. Taking his hand in mine, I kiss the tips of his fingers one by one then lock my eyes on his as I move his hand down my body over my dress—dragging his palm down my neck, across my collarbone, my breast, my stomach, and finally pushing him between my legs.
His eyes darken as a low rumble emanates from his chest. The next second I’m flat on my back on top of his father’s desk with Cole hovering over me, devouring my mouth with a brutal assault of his lips against mine. I reach for his shirt, ripping it free from his pants as my fingers slip beneath the white material to drag my nails along his strong back. Cole groans into my mouth, and the vibration sends a jolt of lust to my core. His hand slides up my thigh, drawing my dress with it, and grips my bottom as he grinds against me. I moan and tug on my bottom lip as his lips move down my neck, the short stubble on his jaw leaving a satisfying burn as he marks me.
My hands work quickly to undo his pants and shove them down his hips, and then I help free him from his boxers. Sliding my panties to the side, Cole aligns himself with my opening and thrusts deep into me. We both groan with sheer satisfaction as he slides almost fully out of me and thrusts deep again. I bite my lip to keep from crying out as I thread my fingers in his hair and smash my mouth to his.
“Wrap your legs around me,” Cole demands, breaking away from our kiss to nip at my chin.
