Crazy in Love

Chapter Twelve





Cole feasted on her mouth, his hands tugging and pulling at the tie around her waist. As the robe fell open, he splayed his hands down her stomach and pulled back.

She was exquisite. Simple white tank top. Cotton panties. Smooth skin over lean muscle. Moonlight streaked through the kitchen windows, slanting over her porcelain skin, giving her a sexy, amber glow.

“Beautiful,” he said, and found her mouth once more.

She sighed into him, her arms roping around his neck. She twisted and twirled her tongue along his, setting fire to the blood in his veins. Needing to touch her, he dropped to his knees and worshipped her breasts. He held the full weight of them in his hands. Snatched the bottom of her tank top with his teeth and yanked it up. He kissed the flat span of her stomach, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses along her silky soft skin. Digging her nails into his hair, she fisted a handful and tugged. Pain mixed with the pleasure and suddenly touching her wasn’t enough.

He gazed up her body. Grabbed ahold of the top ridge of her tank top and pulled it below her breasts. They were perky and lush, with two pink nipples pulled tight from his touch.

He had to draw those tightly budded nipples into his mouth.

As he slid up her body, drew his hand around her neck and guided her mouth to his, she staggered back. He used the momentum to drive her backward until she was flush against the kitchen cabinets.

She gasped into his mouth, and he hardened to the point of pain.

Lowering himself to her breasts, he suckled one of those perfectly-pebbled nipples into his mouth and kneaded the other. As she leaned back against the counter, Cole ravished her breasts and spread her legs.

“Cole,” she moaned, pressing his head to her breast.

“I love the sound of my name on your lips.”

“Then from here on out,” she breathed, “you’ll have to draw it out of me.”

She ran her fingers around his shoulder and down his arms. His skin flushed, burning from the heat of her touch.

“Challenge accepted.” The urge to taste her hit him like a sledgehammer. “These,” he said, running his finger along the band of her panties, “need to come off.”

She kicked out of them quickly and settled back against the counter. Yanking open a cabinet door, he used it as a ledge and propped her leg so she’d open up for him. And then, before she could protest, he pleasured her with his mouth until she cried out his name again and again. She tasted good. Better than good. The sweetest honey he’d ever had on his tongue.

He needed more.

“I want you inside me,” she said, dragging him up her body. “Tell me you have a condom.”

“I do.” He kissed her neck and the gentle swoop of her jaw. He wouldn’t stop until he’d kissed every delicate inch of her. “Upstairs.”

He ran upstairs, rummaged through his luggage, and pulled out a condom. As he ran back down, taking the narrow steps two at a time, he pocketed the lifesaver.

Rachael was leaning against the counter in the exact position he’d left her. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips were kissed pink, and she was buck naked, except for the robe that hung from her shoulders.

Hurricane Turner had left a provocative wake.

He charged through the kitchen, cupped her chin in his hands and crushed his mouth to hers. Groaning, he coiled his arms around her waist and lifted her off her feet. He kept his eyes closed as he fumbled his way out of the kitchen and into the dining room. He knew he’d reached the living room when he accidently kicked over one of his guitar cases.

“You didn’t break something, did you?” she asked, giggling into a kiss.

“Don’t know,” he said. “And don’t care.”

Nearly tripping over another case, he tossed Rachael onto the couch. She landed with her robe splayed out behind her, a curtain of red against her pale skin. She smiled wide and nailed him with a sultry, come-and-get-me glance.

Sexiest sight ever.

He committed the image to memory and got busy stripping out of his clothes. He kicked off his boots and jeans and slid the shirt over his head, tossing it to the floor. In his frantic rush to be inside her, he’d forgotten the condom. He dug into his jeans pocket, tore through the wrapper and rolled it on.

Seconds dragged by.

Shaking with anticipation, Cole gripped her backside and slid her to the edge of the couch.

They groaned in unison as their hips met. He stilled inside her, buried to the hilt.

“Know how long I’ve wanted to do this?” he said, as he slowly thrust in and out of her wetness. “Since you caught me in my towel.”

She rested back onto the couch. Tilted her hips so his length would sink deeper into her heat. She was a hot glove of molten ecstasy. A perfect fit. Every muscle in his body clenched into a tight fist.

“I wanted you that night, too,” she said.

He stilled. “I knew you couldn’t resist me.”

The corner of her lips pulled up into a grin. “Get down here, you cocky sucker.”

“Cock and suck in the same sentence?” He plunged deeper. “Music to my ears.”

She rose up, grabbed him by the back of the neck and brought him down over her. As skin met sweet-smelling skin, their bodies rocked together in an undulating rhythm that drove him to the brink. And when her inner walls began to clench around his shaft in tiny little pulses, his muscles seized. She cried out his name, and sent him careening over the edge with her.

As the surges waned, Cole stilled, though he didn’t want to roll off just yet.

She consumed him. From the rosy-sweetness of her hair and warmth of her body, to the soft pitter-patter of her heart beating through her chest. Her legs wrapped around his hips, and her arms around his back.

He never wanted the moment to end, which was a new notion for him.

Normally, he’d start thinking of a way to get out without hurting the woman’s feelings. But not a single idea of the sort entered his head. They could stay here. Throw a blanket on the floor, light a fire and curl up in front of it until dawn. He felt relaxed and drained, his muscles spent. Not a single thought of how he’d botched the concert could worry him now.

“I need to get up,” she said, patting his back.

Wasn’t that normally his line?


He rolled off the couch and disposed of the condom as she wrapped herself in her robe and disappeared upstairs. For a long while, Cole wasn’t sure she’d come back down, and a pang of loneliness struck him, which was damn odd. When she finally trotted down the stairs, she swept into the kitchen without one glance his direction.

Not what he’d expected.

“Rachael?” he strode through the dining room without bothering to cover himself. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” She filled a glass of ice water. “Why wouldn’t I be? Here.”

He eyed the glass. “Don’t you want some?”

“Nah, I’m good.”

He stared, and tightened the slack in his jaw. Rachael may’ve tried to play up the shy vibe, but she was a vixen in the sack. Beyond that, the woman was a saint, caring for others over herself. Every one in town loved her—he was beginning to see why—and he hadn’t heard a bad word whispered behind her back. She was naturally beautiful unlike the plastic groupies who tried to mob him at every tour stop. She was stable. Kind and nurturing with a stubborn streak that would keep a relationship interesting and vibrant.

She could have anyone she wanted…

“What in the world are you doing with me?” he asked.

She handed him the water. “Screwing your brains out, apparently.”

“Well you did a damn fine job.” He drank until the glass was dry, but he was still thirsty. Same thing could be said for his thirst for the woman standing in front of him. “I can’t collect my thoughts.”

She did a little bow. “Then my job here is done.”

“I like it,” he said, pinching the collar of her robe. “It’s sexy.”

“This?” As she glanced down, the lapels parted, revealing the plumpness of her breasts. “Are you serious?”

He bit his lip, imaging all the things they could do with the robe tie.

“If that’s the case, I think I really did screw your brains out.” She giggled. “This thing is ancient.”

He tugged on the tie at her waist and hauled her against him. “Why don’t we go back into the living room and you can tell me all about it.”

She stiffened in his arms. He could almost hear her thoughts racing.

“Don’t you want to call it a night?” she said. “So we don’t confuse what this really is?”

“And what is that?” He kept her bent against him. If he let go of her now, he might not get to touch her again.

She swallowed hard and her gaze dropped to his chest. “A one night stand.”

Using two fingers, he tiled her head so she could peer through the kitchen window over his table. High overhead, the moon shone brightly.

“Unless I’m mistaken,” he said, “the night’s not over yet.”

She met his gaze and smiled, warming his chest.

“Okay.” She dropped her robe to the floor. “Close your eyes and count to ten. I’m going to hide somewhere in the inn. If you can find me, you can have me.”

Hell yeah.

As he closed his eyes, the pattering of her feet echoed into the dining room. He chanced one eye and caught sight of her glorious backside as she darted up the stairs.

Oh, he’d find her all right. And when he caught her, he wouldn’t let go until dawn.





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