“Cole—”
“No. I practically forced you in that ladies’ room. Pinched you. Hurt you. And then at your house I almost ripped your hair out, and then I fucking made you cry. I was so wrapped up in what I wanted, what I needed—in my own fucking need to just shoot my goddamn load—that I didn’t even realize I was hurting you. Choking you. Jesus, Kat, do you know how much it killed me to see you like that? Sprawled on the floor, tears streaming down your face? Do you have any idea how much I hated myself?”
Now I really was crying, and I brushed the tears away and then stood in front of him. I pressed my hands to the sides of his face, then brushed the softest of kisses over his lips. “For a man who is so smart—who has made so much of himself—you’re a damn idiot, Cole August.”
“Catalina . . .”
I pressed my finger to his lips. “My turn,” I said, then brushed away a fresh spill of tears. “Forced me in the ladies’ room? Are you kidding me? I was so hot I’m almost embarrassed to admit it. That was an incredible moment, Cole, don’t you get that? Naughty and sensual, and just public enough to be a bad girl turn-on. I mean, come on. It was like acting out a fantasy, and it was amazing.”
He started to speak, but I just shook my head. “No. Not finished. Did you mention pinching me? Did you say that it hurt? Well, guess what, mister, I have a secret to tell you.”
I pressed a hand to his shoulder for balance as I leaned in close to his ear. I felt a tremor go through him, and a corresponding wash of heat shot through me, brought on by nothing more than a simple touch and our proximity.
“It did hurt,” I said, as his body tensed beneath my hand. “It hurt, and then it felt amazing, and dammit, Cole, it made me so fucking wet. You hurt me? Maybe you did, but I loved it. Hurts so good, right? Isn’t that what they say? That’s how you made me feel.”
“Kat. Oh, baby.”
I eased back so that I could face him again. “You keep interrupting me. Stop that.” I pointed to the couch. “Sit. Before we hit an air pocket or get lectured by Jana for not wearing our seat belts.”
He sat, and to my relief I saw that some of the pain on his face had been replaced by humor.
I perched on the table in front of him, my eyes trained on his face.
“Made me cry, you said? If I remember right, I was having one hell of a good time getting you off. I liked it, Cole. I was into it. I was into you.”
I knelt in front of him then gently pushed his knees apart so that I could ease in closer. Very deliberately, I moved my gaze from his crotch to his eyes, and as I did, I reached out and pressed my hand over his cock, then felt it stir beneath my palm.
“I wanted to taste you, to suck you off, to take you in as deep as I could because it turns me on to know that I’m giving you pleasure.” I stroked him as his erection hardened under my touch and with my words. “But guess what? There’s this whole physiology thing working there, too, and let’s see you try to deep-throat a cock as impressive as yours and not have tears prick your eyes.”
A flicker of a grin touched his mouth. “I’d rather not.”
“Yeah, well, you owe me. I was damn close to taking you all the way, and you bolted on me, you bastard. And as for yanking my hair,” I continued before he could interrupt, “yeah, that hurt. You yanked, I wasn’t expecting it, and it hurt.”
I saw him flinch as if I’d slapped him.
“BFD, Cole. Big. Fucking. Deal. So you accidentally yanked my hair. One of these days you’ll probably roll over in bed and whack me with your elbow and I’ll have a black eye for a week. It’s not like you lost your temper and beat me to a pulp.”
“What if I had?”
“You didn’t, and you wouldn’t. You’re not capable of that. Of losing it, sure. But you couldn’t hurt me if you tried.”