by Amy Knupp
“She’s been through a lot.”
He nodded but didn’t say more.
They sat in silence for a while, looking out over the neighborhood. The Wentworth Hotel at the left end was lit up as usual, but all the businesses that they could see at street level were closed for the night, Frank’s Diner being the last to shut down not long ago. Clayborne’s would still be open but wasn’t visible from here. A light came on in one of the second-floor apartment windows across the street, and Sierra saw Tilly, Frank Dole’s wife, who co-owned the diner, come into view, watched her draw the curtains.
“Peaceful here,” Cole said.
Sierra nodded, gratified that he liked it. “What about your place? Peaceful too?” she asked, having realized she didn’t know anything about where he lived other than it was an apartment in a not-so-great part of town, according to him.
“Wouldn’t say that.” He raised his legs to the ottoman, then surprised her by scooping up her legs and draping them over his lap, angling her into him, tightening his arm around her.
“Hi,” she said with a smile, burrowing into his chest, feeling more okay about letting her guard down, trusting he was here because he wanted to be.
His response was a contented growl, and as he dipped his chin, she reached up to run her hand over his rough cheek at last. Cole gazed down at her and then breathed in deeply, as if savoring their closeness.
Sierra loved it but couldn’t ignore that something was off with him. “Is everything okay?” she asked barely above a whisper.
“Come here,” he said, pulling her more fully onto his lap in a straddle. “Okay for your ankle?”
Her knees were alongside his legs, her ankle supported by the cushion. It was more okay than it’d been all weekend as her body forgot that dull ache in favor of the hot ache at her core with their bodies pressed together. She gazed into his eyes and read his raw need there.
Cole ran both his hands up her back, one of them into her hair to the back of her head, pulling her into him until their lips collided. He kissed her hard, seeking out her tongue immediately, as if he’d bided his time and could no longer wait. She welcomed it, drew him in, showed him she was as eager as he was. Though he’d had her worried all weekend that she’d never get another chance to be this close to him, he seemed to be holding nothing back now, letting her see and feel how much he needed her, possibly not just on a physical level. She got a sense that this, their connection, was what he needed to soothe whatever was bothering him.
His lips still locked with hers, he lifted the blanket to their shoulders and secured the edges of it behind his back so it draped over them, covering her. Then his hands were all over her, pulling her into him again, lifting her layers of shirt. He palmed her breasts, kneaded them as he kept kissing her, rolled her nipples between calloused fingers and thumbs. She’d had no idea what a turn-on it was to feel the roughness of a man who worked with his hands on her most sensitive spots. She’d never been with a guy like Cole, tended toward upwardly mobile professionals with smooth, white-collar hands. She’d been missing out.
He was making need shoot from her breasts to her very core, making her grind her body against his erection, and she caught her breath, momentarily breaking their kiss, because…damn. He hadn’t even taken a single piece of her clothing off and she was about to incinerate.
She sought out the bottom of his shirt and worked her hands under it, running them up to his chest. She lifted the shirt to his shoulders, needing to feel his heated skin directly. Cole let out a moan as she rubbed her nipples over his bare chest. As she returned her mouth to his, he worked his hands between their bodies again, engulfed her breasts with them, molded and massaged and manipulated until she wondered if she was going to come apart from this alone.
Cole guided her body upward and teased the hardened tip of her nipple with his tongue, then sucked her breast into his mouth, coaxing a needy moan from deep inside of her. The blanket fell from their shoulders and pooled around their waists, barely noticed until he switched to her other breast and the cool air hit her damp nipple.
“Cole,” she whispered.
“Mm.” He didn’t stop what he was doing to answer, and the vibration of his voice on her skin shot another current of aching need to her most female parts.
“Cole,” she tried again. “Let’s go inside.”
He didn’t stop, didn’t even pause for her words to sink in, and Sierra threw her head back as the sensations overcame her reservations. She pulled his head to her more firmly so he wouldn’t stop what he was doing.
The sound of a car door closing in the distance jolted her out of it, and she slid her body down, out of his mouth. She pressed herself back into his chest as she gathered her wits.
“Inside,” she tried again, her voice not quite working right. “I don’t want to give Frank Dole a heart attack if he looks out his window.”
A possessive growl rumbled out of Cole’s chest, and she landed a short kiss on his lips, then pulled her shirt and sweatshirt down as she forced herself to stand, taking the weight on her uninjured leg. The blanket fell to the floor of the balcony around her feet. She bent to grab it and held her hand out for Cole’s at the same time.
Chapter Eighteen
Cole had a look on his rugged face as if he was coming back into his senses as he glanced around, from the balcony of the apartment next to Sierra’s, which belonged to two of the spa owners and was thankfully still deserted, to the apartments across the way and back to her extended hand. He reached for it and stood, and Sierra led him inside. Once in the door, she shut it and let the blanket drop, then led him to her bedroom. Her messy bedroom, she realized as she stumbled over a shoe.
The room was mostly dark, with the weak stove light barely reaching it and the streetlights filtering in around the blinds. She chose not to hurt their eyes by turning on the lamp on her nightstand, even though she wanted to see every inch of him as soon as she got him naked. “Careful,” she whispered. “It’s a minefield in here.”
As soon as they were next to the bed, she pulled him toward her by the waistband of his jeans and unsnapped them. The rasp of his zipper sounded as she lowered it, and he held himself still and seemingly patient. With his pants unfastened but still in place, she switched her attention to his shirt and lifted it over his head. He finished taking it off and tossed it aside as she went back to his pants. She slid her fingers to his waist, beneath both layers, jeans and underwear, pushing them down his muscled thighs. He helped her, took over ridding himself of them and his shoes as she ran her hands over his sculpted ass. She couldn’t see it, but based on feel alone, it had to be the finest ass in the known universe.
Before she finished worshiping his butt with her hands, he was removing her shirt and hoodie at once, requiring her to lift her arms. Next, his fingers were at her waist, dipping into her pajama pants, teasing her, but the drawstring was tight enough he couldn’t get his hands very far. She felt the release of the tie, and then her pants slid to the floor and their naked bodies came together, standing there, their flesh making contact from thigh to shoulder. She reveled in the details of him, the strong, muscled back and shoulders, the masculine roughness of hair on his thighs, those irresistible butt cheeks…the thick erection pressing against her abdomen. Insistently.
Sierra grasped him, relishing the feel of the hot, velvet-soft flesh over steel as her fingers explored the length of him and her body responded with an urgent need to have him inside of her. He let out a low, needy rumble that had her stroking him, seeing how far she could push him.
Answer: not far.
With a growl, Cole grabbed her hand and lifted it, entwined her fingers with his as he pressed kisses along her jawline and then rasped into her ear, “On the edge already.”
Grinning, Sierra attempted to move her hand back down to tease him some more, but he was having none of it. Before she could blink, she found herself on her back on the mattress with Cole over her, gazing down at her intently in
the low light.
“Troublemaker,” he muttered, and she let out a quiet laugh as she realized she could no longer touch him the way she wanted to because of the way his body was pressed into hers. This lightness during sex was new to her. Surprising. Especially with Cole, who was usually so serious and reserved when it came to anything personal.
He trailed kisses back down her jawline, her neck, and to her breasts, grazing each nipple with just enough attention from his mouth that she was arching toward him for more when he continued his descent to her stomach. As he circled his tongue around her belly button, his hands toyed with her breasts, molding them, adoring them, rolling the nipples between thumb and forefinger, and again she arched in need. She sought out his erection again, managed to get her fingertips on it before he moved out of her reach, trailing his tongue lower. He swirled it around her center, and Sierra let out a shallow gasp of need.
“You don’t play fair,” she managed.
The answering low rumble of laughter had his breath fluttering over the parts of her that were screaming out for more. More contact than a whisper of air. Much more. The tease of his tongue was a start, but before he could get serious about what he was doing, Sierra grabbed his shoulders and tried to urge him upward. She ached so deep inside that only one thing would quench her need.
“Want you inside,” she said.
“Busy here,” he said offhandedly, as if he couldn’t be bothered by her demands, then lowered his mouth to her again. He grasped her thighs and opened her more to him, then focused every bit of his attention on her center, and she couldn’t have argued if she’d wanted to.
She so didn’t want to.
It seemed like milliseconds later when the orgasm shot through her, had her clamping his head to her as waves of ecstasy took over, turning her inside out.
When she came back to herself, she lay there for a few seconds, getting air into her lungs, thoughts into her head.
“You’re stubborn,” she finally said when she could speak.
“Complaining?”
Her eyes were closed as she recovered, but there was both smugness and laughter in his question, and she found herself falling for this side of Cole. This unexpected playful, open side.
“Not complaining,” she gave him as she reached for his still-rock-hard cock and this time got her hand wrapped around it.
Instead of fighting it, Cole moaned. “Need a condom. There’s one in my wallet.”
“Some in my nightstand,” she said.
“How old?”
The question made her stop stroking him abruptly as she tried to think straight. She didn’t sleep with many guys and it had been a while. How long did condoms last? “Not last week,” she said vaguely, thinking it was probably closer to a year than a week.
Cole rolled over and sat up, picked up his jeans, dug through his wallet, and apparently found what he was looking for, because he threw the jeans back down. “This one’s okay,” he said as he ripped it open, then sheathed himself.
Dates and lovers from the past disappeared from her mind as he crawled back over her and kissed her thoroughly, more deliberately now than earlier, as if he was fighting to control himself. She couldn’t resist trying to break that control again and sought out his chest with her fingers until she could run a thumb over his nipple. He groaned and kept kissing her. As the ache in her own body built up again, her goal became less about teasing him and more about directing him to impale her and put her out of her ever-loving misery.
She took hold of him, squeezed him gently, then arched her body as she guided him to her entrance.
“So impatient,” he rasped out in a gravelly voice, his amusement audible along with his own need.
“Yes,” she said, fully owning it, and then he pressed inside of her, and she held her breath as he stretched her. “God yes.”
Once he was fully seated, he paused, held his head up, and gazed into her eyes in the near dark. The intensity in them twisted something in a different part of her body—in her chest—and there was the vague thought that she was in trouble, but then he started moving, out and then in, and all thoughts escaped her.
She wrapped her legs around his waist, held on to his upper body as well, gave herself over to him completely, and it didn’t take long for another orgasm to build in her. They came at nearly the same time, with her riding the euphoria as he thrust a final time, stiffened, and rasped out an impassioned swear word before collapsing on her chest. Several heartbeats went by as she relished the weight of him on her, the pulses of him in her, the scent of sex and Cole enveloping her, the sound of his labored exhales.
“Was that a good swear?” she asked eventually, unable to keep from smiling.
Without lifting his head, apparently too wiped out, he said, “Was a good swear.”
Then, a few seconds later, he rolled to the side and pulled her with him. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, her nose, then her lips, lingering there. The tenderness in his kiss made something in her chest dip, but she chose not to think about it. Focused her attention instead on every detail of Cole—the intensity in his eyes each time he looked at her between kisses, the light sheen of sweat on his skin that tasted salty when she touched her tongue to it, the heat of his body pressed along hers, their legs tangling together. He was so unguarded in that moment, so unlike the man she worked side by side with every day, the strong, capable, confident but contained man. The work version of Cole was appealing, sexy, but this private Cole… He had the power to turn her inside out.
He burrowed his nose along the side of her neck and mumbled, “Oranges. Never going to think of them quite the same way again.”
It took her a second to realize he referred to the citrus scent of her shampoo. “I like to think of it as Creamsicle. Oranges and vanilla and sugar.”
“Definitely sweet.” He nibbled on her earlobe, sending a shiver through her. “Also sexy.” After another kiss to her lips, he untangled himself from her. “Be right back.”
As he walked away from the bed toward the hallway and, she assumed, the bathroom, she mourned the fact that it wasn’t light enough to check out the view. Later, she promised herself. Whether later tonight or another time, she would get the chance to roam her eyes over his naked backside at leisure. She hoped.
She registered the chill in the air on her still-sweaty skin. The bed was unmade, the covers half on, half off, partially lumped beneath her. She crawled underneath them, pulled them over her. At the sounds of the toilet flushing, the water running in the sink, the bathroom door opening, she moved closer to the side she rarely inhabited, to make room for him.
As he rolled into bed and pulled her in close again, she said, “Welcome back.”
“Good to be back.” He ran his hand up her side, over the curve of her waist, down her butt, back again, as if he couldn’t get enough. As he nuzzled up against her neck, he let out a playful, contented growl.
“You seem to be in a better mood than when you got here,” she said, loving the attention as much as the easiness between them.
“How could I not be with this?” He gave her butt a playful squeeze, coaxing a laugh from her.
“My butt is amazing,” she said facetiously.
“Whole package is amazing.”
“You’re not so bad yourself.” In the dark, she rubbed her knuckles gently over his stubble-roughened jaw. “Where were you before you came over?” she asked, still curious about what had upset him.
“My mom’s. Drake got carryout.”
“Family dinner?” she guessed.
“Sort of. Mom was sleeping.”
So just the brothers, which could explain the mood. “Why were you upset when you got here?”
He blew out a breath. “You really want to hear about that?”
“I’m guessing one of your brothers did something?” She was still trying to figure out the North brothers’ dynamics and Cole’s relationships with them. They’d seemed like nice guys at the hospital, in spite of th
e situation with their mom, but the tension between Cole and them had been palpable, especially Mason.
He rolled onto his back and she watched his profile in the dark as he gazed up at the ceiling. Moving closer, so there was no space between them, she rested her hand on his chest, rubbed it in light little circles, wishing to soothe him somehow. She shouldn’t have brought it up, she realized. She didn’t want to ruin the evening, only make him feel better.
“It’s okay—” she started.
“Mason offered me a job,” he said at the same time, and Sierra felt herself tense involuntarily at the thought of losing Cole on a professional level. Reminding herself this wasn’t about her, she forced herself to relax.
“Wow,” she said. “Doing what?”
“Whatever I want, in theory.”
They were both quiet for several seconds as Sierra processed, tried to imagine him leaving Dunn & Lowell, him working in a corporate office. Her working without him.
“Are you going to?”
He shifted on his side toward her again, pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Nah.”
Okay. She couldn’t deny her relief, though she told herself again this was about Cole and not her.
“It made you mad that he offered? Or what?” She was still trying to understand his mood earlier. She didn’t see how a well-meaning job offer could piss him off.
Cole again put space between them, then sat up, propping the pillow against the headboard and leaning against it, letting out an aggravated sigh. He ran his hands over his face, and though Sierra knew she should forget the whole conversation, she didn’t take back her questions. Waited for him to answer.
“It’s fucked up,” he said.
She sat up next to him, pulling the blankets with her. “What is?”
“You ever wonder how your life might be different if you’d made one different decision at some point in the past?”
She cradled her knees to her chest, rested her head on them, her face turned toward him. “Sure. Like, what if I’d gone to a four-year college, or what if I’d sold the business and gone to work for my brother’s company instead?”