My eyes flew to him as he let go of my hand and walked over to the end of the bed. He turned and looked at me, almost taunting me with the heat in his eyes.
We both knew we were about to cross the line I’d drawn between us a long time ago.
Before we crossed that line, before there was no turning back, I had to be sure we were on the same page. “I like you, Cole. I do. And clearly I’m attracted to you . . . but you have to know there’s a possibility that I won’t ever learn to trust you. And you said you don’t do casual . . .”
Cole’s answer was to shrug out of his jacket and throw it on a nearby chair. His fierce gaze delved deep inside me. “Shannon, there is nothing casual about how I feel about you. There hasn’t been since the day I stepped out of Ellie and Adam’s house and found you on the stoop. I get you don’t trust me and I get why, but I want you to give me the chance to change that. I think there’s something here that’s worth all the effort.”
“Cole,” I said as my lips trembled, my eyes misting. I felt too much, just too, too much . . . “I wish I’d never left you that day.”
I knew he understood instantly all the many reasons I wished I’d never walked away from that strangely magical connection I’d felt with Cole when we were fifteen. If I’d never walked away, life would never have taught me not to trust this man—a man who just might deserve my trust much more than the others who had come before him.
I saw the pain and regret mingle with the heat in Cole’s eyes and I understood without him having to say that he was feeling it too.
Suddenly I was in his arms.
His lips crashed down on mine as I stood up on tiptoe, my hands fisted in the back of Cole’s T-shirt as I tasted him for the first time. Two seconds later he gripped my bottom in his hands and lifted me. I wrapped my legs around his waist and melted into him as the kiss turned wild. He had one arm around my back while his other hand threaded through my hair to hold my head, to hold me to his lips.
I wanted that kiss to go on forever—it was hungry and wet and hard. It was so crazy beautiful I didn’t even realize Cole had moved us to the bed until he lowered himself on it and my knees hit the duvet on either side of his hips.
He pulled back from the kiss and we panted against each other’s mouths. Cole brushed my hair back from my face and it took everything within me to tear my gaze from his gorgeous mouth. As soon as I looked into his green eyes, however, I swore I’d never look away. The gold flecks in them seemed brighter than ever as he said, his voice hoarse, “I want to see you. Just you and all that fucking hair.”
I bit my lip on a shy smile. Although excited, I couldn’t help wondering how I’d measure up to the tall goddesses who seemed to decorate Cole’s past. I’d heard the stories and even seen some pictures, courtesy of Rae. However, I discovered a while ago that men generally didn’t get as hard as Cole was right now unless you turned them on, and acting insecure would definitely take the sexy out of our very sexy—oh my God, too sexy to breathe—situation. “I’m starting to think you like my hair.”
He touched a strand that fell down over my breast, his hands gently caressing it in a way I felt between my legs. I shifted a little impatiently against his erection. “I love your hair,” he murmured, more than a little distracted. “You have no idea how many fantasies I’ve had about you and your hair.”
Flushing hotter than I would have thought possible, I squirmed and whispered, “Tell me one.”
“The most recent?” he said, dragging his gaze from my hair and breasts to my eyes. “You’re naked on your hands and knees, and your hair is spilling down your shoulders, the ends touching my ink on your lower back. Some of your hair is wrapped lightly around my hand as I fuck you from behind.” His eyes flashed. “Hard.”
I was panting now at the visual, the hot puffs touching Cole’s mouth. “I want that.”
A possessiveness entered Cole’s eyes, a possessiveness that given my history caused me momentary panic . . . but then he was kissing me again, his hand fisted in my hair. The feel of his tongue stroking mine, the taste of him, the smell of him . . . nothing else mattered.
The kiss broke but only because Cole was reaching for the hem of my camisole. “We need to be careful with your tattoo,” he panted as he lifted my top up. I raised my arms to assist him, the cool air prickling over my skin and turning my already tight nipples harder. Cole threw my top somewhere over my shoulder and spanned my waist with his hands. “My thumbs almost touch,” he said quietly, almost as if to himself. “You’re tiny.”