He let out a short laugh. “What are you talking about?”
“I was just thinking that I’ve never told a man how I felt, and then you popped up and asked me to talk to you. It’s…weird.”
“Come here, Savannah.”
She did, and he drew her onto his lap. Her nerves danced for a myriad of reasons. Nervousness was one, and the other was excitement, which she always felt being this close to him. How was she supposed to keep a clear head when his body touched hers?
“It’s okay to tell me how you feel. You can trust me.”
She looked down at him, at his eyes that always compelled her. She’d always thought they were so mysterious, but now they were so clear. “I don’t trust many people.”
“Neither do I. But you’re the one who told me I need to broaden my circle of friends.”
“And now who’s the pot calling the kettle black?”
“I’m not saying that to throw your words back at you. You were right. I had close friends in school. But not since then. I shut myself off. Getting cut from Arizona—my first team—that hurt. I had started to make friends there. After that, I didn’t want to, afraid the same thing would happen again. And then it did happen again. After that, I became my own worst enemy. I didn’t trust a team to keep me. And maybe I didn’t trust myself to do the right things to stay there, and I didn’t do the right things. It was a self-fulfilling prophecy, you know.”
“I can see how that could happen,” she said. “You got hurt, and you lashed out so no one could hurt you.”
“Something like that. So I didn’t let myself get close to anyone on any of the teams I played for. If you don’t let yourself get close to anyone, when you get dumped, it doesn’t hurt.”
It was like listening to a version of herself. Only Cole was a lot more honest in how he felt, something she’d never allowed herself to be. He was saying all the things she felt inside but had never given voice to.
“How does it feel?” she asked.
“How does what feel?”
“To be that open and honest with someone.”
He shrugged. “I’ve never done it before. I’ve never said those things to anyone but you.”
Her heart squeezed. “Why me?”
“I guess I just wanted to say it—to someone. Or maybe you needed to hear it. I don’t know.”
She swept her hand along his jaw, then leaned in to brush her lips across his. He didn’t do anything, didn’t rise up, didn’t even touch her, just let her control the kiss, no doubt afraid she’d pull back or hesitate. Given her propensity for running like hell or pulling away, she couldn’t blame him for his hesitation.
But he’d been so kind to her, and he’d opened up to her in a way no man had ever done. She knew how difficult it was for a man to admit his insecurities. That he had with her touched her. It showed her he trusted her, and that meant so much.
She still wasn’t ready to tell him all her secrets, but she could trust him with some part of her. She half turned, deepening the kiss, sliding her hand through the lush thickness of his hair. Her breast pressed against his chest, her thigh lay against his stomach, and her heart pounded as she licked against his tongue.
He kissed her back with a fervor that never failed to take her to dizzying heights, but he still hadn’t put his hands on her. Was he still unsure about her? She broke the kiss, looked into the smoky depths of his eyes, saw the desire and the hesitancy there.
“Touch me,” she said, taking his hand and laying it on her hip.
The sharp intake of his breath was exactly what she needed to hear. When he clenched his fingers around her hip, she dampened with arousal.
“Turn around. Straddle me.” He held her hands as she momentarily slid off his lap, then climbed onto his lap, facing him. There was ample room on the oversized cushioned chair to fit her knees on either side of his hips. And since he’d left the lights off outside and in the kitchen, they were shrouded in darkness, affording them plenty of privacy.
He slid his hands up her thighs, skimming his fingertips under her dress, causing goosebumps on her flesh. She laid her hands on his shoulders and lifted.
Mercy, how she craved his touch. Outside like this it felt primitive, catering to this primal hunger she always seemed to feel for Cole—the one she could never seem to satisfy.
He cupped her neck and pulled her toward him for a kiss, though letting her take the lead. She was fine with that, needed the dominance he usually provided. Their lips met in a firestorm of passion that released a whimper from her throat. She inched closer to him, sliding her sex against his jeans. Sensation spread from her * and she tightened, clutching on to his shirt.