Fearless

by Kimberly Kincaid

“Hold on.”

  Savannah took a shaky breath, angling forward to flatten her palm against the cool surface of the wall. Need pulsed through her, flaring into urgency when Cole hooked his fingers around the bend of her knee, lifting just high enough to place it over the low, slim table in front of the mirror. Oh God, with her dress rucked up around her hips and one foot off the floor, she was completely exposed, completely vulnerable, but in that moment, she couldn’t make herself care.

  Cole wasn’t wrong. Tendrils of hair spiraled down around her face, framing her flushed skin and full, kiss-swollen mouth. She was dressed, but also tantalizingly naked, his fingers hovering over her in a deliciously forbidden manner to prove it. With Cole’s hands on her body and his stare drilling into hers in the mirror, she looked sexier than she’d ever felt in her life.

  “See? Beautiful.” He parted the folds of her sex with one sinuous slide of his hand, and her moan in reply was a foregone conclusion. The muscles in her core clenched, tightening and slick in anticipation. Desperate, Savannah tipped her hips forward, her sigh turning into a scream as Cole sank a finger all the way into her heat.

  “Oh.” Pure pleasure muffled her thoughts, sending her hips bucking against Cole’s hand. The sight of him, fingers spanning her inner thighs save the one buried inside her, sent a shot of unchecked heat sizzling under her skin. He slid out just long enough to twine two fingers together, thrusting back into her aching core, and Savannah watched his every move.

  He dropped his mouth to her ear, not stopping his ministrations. “I’ve wanted to know what you sound like when you come since that night at the library.” He crooked his fingers, tempting another moan from her throat as he discovered a hidden, sensitive spot deep between her legs. “What you look like. How tight you feel. How wet.”

  Savannah arched forward, meeting his movements, wordlessly begging for more. Her eyes fixed on their reflection in the mirror, on Cole’s fingers pumping in and out of her sex, and the sight sent her already brazen nature into overdrive.

  “Then find out. Make me come, Cole. Please.”

  With a quick turn of his wrist, his thumb found her clit, and between the sweet circles above and the hard rhythm below, Savannah edged closer and closer to release. She widened her stance, canting her hips to increase the contact right at her center, where she needed it most. Her orgasm surged through her, bright and bold and hard enough to steal her breath, turning her fingernails into the wall in front of her and arching her back as she let loose a long, low cry.

  Cole slowed the motion of his fingers even though his breath still arrived in hot bursts over her shoulder. “Jesus,” he whispered, sliding his hand gently from her core and turning her to face him. “That was even hotter than I imagined.”

  Savannah blinked her way back down to earth, a smile curving her lips. “That was just a start.” She reached up, removing his tie and freeing the buttons on his dress shirt one by one. Despite the residual traces of the climax still making her legs unsteady, she wanted Cole now more than ever.

  And she meant to take him. No more waiting.

  “Mmm,” he murmured, raising his hands to help her. “I do like how you think.”

  With a few strategic tugs, he was naked from the waist up, and she paused for just a second to look her fill. Lord, the way his leanly chiseled pecs tapered into those strong, flat abs made her nearly dizzy.

  And the soft dusting of honey-brown hair happy trailing its way from his navel down into his dress pants made her mouth water.

  Turning toward the nearest available room—which, judging by the shadowy outline of the cabinets and the soft hum of the refrigerator, just happened to be the kitchen—Savannah beckoned for Cole to follow.

  “My bedroom is just down the hall,” he said, but she shook her head. Want was already rekindling between her thighs, and anyway, she’d never been much for patience or restraint.

  “We’ll end up there eventually. But this room has a perfectly good flat surface.” She tossed a gesture at the table over her shoulder. “I say we make good use of it.”

  Savannah’s heels clicked as she moved toward him. She lowered her hand, palming his already hard cock over his dress pants, and he hissed a breath through his teeth.

  “I’m not fucking you on my kitchen table, Savannah.” Still, he thrust against her fingers with a low moan, his motions picking a fight with his words. She stroked him with the clear intent to change his mind, her opposite hand making fast work of his belt buckle, then the button and zipper beneath them.

  “That’s fine.” She looked up at him through her lashes, her smile as wicked as she could make it. “I don’t mind fucking you instead.”

  Cole sprang forward to clear the table in one long sweep. “You win. Kitchen table it is.”

  With the exception of his boxer briefs, all of his clothes hit the floor, and he reached out, sliding his hands over her dress in a frenzy.

  “Where’s the damned zipper on this thing?” he asked in between hard, hot kisses, and Savannah half laughed, half moaned against his mouth.

  “On the side,” she said, arching into Cole’s touch as he stopped to skim his fingers over her nipple on his way around her rib cage. “Oh God, take it off. Take it off.”

  “With pleasure.”

  The zipper gave way with a soft rasp, but the dress didn’t budge. Cole slipped his palms beneath the spaghetti-thin straps at her shoulders for another try, and damn it, she’d forgotten that Rachel had all but spackled her and her bra into the top of the dress.

  “Wait, I’m kind of . . . it’s a long story.” She knew she should’ve just skipped the bra along with her panties in the first place. She reached behind her to unhook the clasps so the whole thing would just let go and she could be naked already, realizing a second too late that she’d put on the one and only bra she owned with a front closure.

  “Savannah.” Cole’s eyes went as dark as his voice. “I like this dress an awful lot, but I swear on the sun, I will rip it off you.”

  “Oh, don’t worry, sugar,” she said, her own voice thick with need. “If I can’t get it off the old-fashioned way in the next five seconds, I’m going to rip it myself.”

  She delved her hand beneath the now-loose bodice of the dress, relief sailing through her as her bra finally gave way with a hard twist. Without a word, she let all the fabric fall to the floor, leaving her in nothing but her heels and her very bad intentions.

  Cole’s hands were on her before she could move. He wrapped his arms around her waist, sliding a string of suggestive, open-mouthed kisses over her neck at the same time he lifted her feet from the floor to lay her down over the table.

  A trickle of worry slid past the lusty heat building between Savannah’s hips. “So, ah.” The last part turned into a sigh when his tongue edged over her collarbone, and when he trailed back up to lightly bite her shoulder, she nearly lost her goddamn mind.

  Nope. Not shorting out on this. “Cole. Please tell me you have condoms.” Fat lot of good her stash would do from halfway across Fairview.

  His soft laugh coasted over the slope of her breasts. “I do. Only I don’t keep them in the kitchen, so do me a favor and hold”—he kissed the spot where her shoulders met her chest—“that”—another kiss, this one on her chin—“thought,” he finished, capturing her face to lightly kiss her mouth.

  He returned barely a minute later, and while the brief separation might’ve weakened the mood in any other situation, it only upped Savannah’s urgency to have Cole inside her. She sat up, sliding her fingers under the waistband of his boxer briefs. Together, they laid waste to the one scrap of fabric between them to roll the condom into place, and Cole reached down, drawing her ass flush with the edge of the table.

  “Savannah.” The head of his cock slipped over her folds, pressing, insistent, and the contact sent sparks shuddering through her. Her knees fluttered apart at the same time Cole pushed, filling her slowly as she tilted forward to take him.

  For just a b
reath, neither of them moved. Then he released a harsh exhale, gripping her hips with spread-wide fingers, and oh God, oh God, oh God, she wanted his cock buried inside her all night.

  Savannah knotted her arms around Cole’s shoulders, the cradle of her hips moving of its own volition. Craving even more contact, she closed the sliver of space between their upper bodies, the friction from his bare skin turning her nipples into aching, beaded points.

  “God damn. You feel so good.” His voice went low, tugging at her subconscious as a tiny part of her registered tinges of a familiar accent twining around his words. But then he lowered his mouth to her shoulder, finding the slim cord of muscle connecting her arm to her neck with the edge of his teeth, and Savannah forgot everything but the pleasure building deep within her.

  “Cole.” Pressure coiled, low and sweet in her belly, growing brighter with every thrust. Hooking her knees over the hard line of his waist, Savannah let go of his shoulders, planting her palms into the surface of the table and squeezing her inner muscles around his cock. Cole leaned forward while she angled her body back, one hand digging into her hip for leverage while the other reached around to skim the length of her lower leg. He curled his fingers around her ankle, thrusting into her harder and harder as he locked her leg all the way around his waist.

  The move left no space at all where they joined. Want collided with raw pleasure in her blood, daring her to come. Cole filled her completely with every push of his hips, stretching her channel as his cock stroked her sensitive, swollen clit, and with one last thrust, she flew apart with a cry.

  “That’s it,” Cole whispered, burying himself to the hilt while Savannah came in waves. “Ah, God. You’re so tight. I can feel how hard you’re coming.”

  His jaw clenched, the restraint on his face obvious even in the shadows, but oh no. The fact that they were even here was proof positive that holding back wasn’t an option tonight.

  “Cole.” Savannah’s voice was rough with the residual passion of her climax, and she tightened her legs around him. “I want you to come, too. Please. Come for me.”

  All the hesitation vanished from his face, replaced only by hot need. He rebuilt the rhythm between them, and she met every thrust, every glide and every moan. Cole’s fingers bit into the flare of her hips, the sweet sting turning her on all the more as he powered into her core over and over. Finally, his body quickened, going bowstring tight against hers for just a breath before he called her name over a sharp, shuddering exhale.

  For a minute, or maybe it was ten, or twenty—or God, a million—Savannah lay beneath him, too blissed out to move. Cole felt warm on top of her, his chest rising and falling with hers as their breathing slowed to normal. He drew back from her body, slipping down the hall to presumably deal with the condom, but still, she didn’t move.

  Savannah knew she should feel self-conscious, or concerned, or downright goddamn terrified at the repercussions of what they’d just done. But she didn’t feel any of those things.

  Instead, she felt safe.

  “Hey.” Cole appeared in the entryway to the kitchen, wearing a fresh pair of boxer briefs and a worried-as-hell expression. “I, um, brought you this.”

  He held up a T-shirt, and her bare feet shushed over the kitchen tiles as she crossed the floor to take it from him.

  “Thanks.” She shouldered her way into the soft cotton, the hem of the shirt fluttering halfway down her thighs. “There’s a zero percent chance I’ll ever figure out how to get back into that dress all by myself.”

  “Listen, Savannah—”

  “Do you regret this?”

  Oh, hell. Apparently, not even heaven and earth-moving sex could tempt her mouth out of the no-filter zone. She scrambled for a way to pretty up her point-blank question, but Cole’s chin snapped up, his eyes glinting in the soft light.

  “God, no.” His hand moved forward, but stopped an inch shy of touching her. “I’m just . . . I didn’t expect it, and I’m in unfamiliar territory here.”

  “Because of work.”

  “Of course.”

  Savannah didn’t think, just closed the space between their hands out of pure instinct. “Lucky for us, we’re not at work right now. Look, I know that will change, and it’s something we’ll need to deal with,” she said, because as good as she felt standing there, all wrapped up in post-coital glow in Cole’s kitchen, her mama also hadn’t raised any dummies. “But for tonight, can’t we just be me and you, like we were at the library?”

  He dropped his forehead over hers, and for a second, fear pricked through her chest that he’d say no. But then he kissed her, and holy hell, being in his arms felt so far from off-limits.

  “Tonight, it’s me and you. Which means we’d better get moving. You promised we’d end up in my bed, but I plan to show you every room I’ve got along the way.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Cole stretched in the warmth of his bedsheets, morning sunlight slipping past the window blinds to illuminate the reality of daytime. Savannah lay on her side next to him, the steady rise and fall of her shoulders and back showing that she was still asleep even though he couldn’t see her face. Cole shifted as memories of the night before slid back into focus, his muscles squeezing a slightly sore reminder of just how long it had been since he’d used them between the sheets.

  And in the kitchen. And on the living room sofa.

  Jesus Christ, he’d lost his mind. But when Savannah had rushed into that elevator last night, with her dress surrendering to all her curves and a look of sheer, uncharacteristic vulnerability covering her face, something deep in Cole’s belly had snapped. He’d wanted her badly enough to break the rules, to be utterly impulsive, to act on nothing but pure, raw, reckless emotion.

  And he’d loved every fucking second of it.

  He let out the breath tightening his lungs. The sex had been phenomenal—of course he’d loved every second. That still didn’t mean it had been in any way smart. But it also hadn’t felt wrong, and Cole couldn’t deny that he didn’t want to categorize their night together as just a fling.

  Mostly because, even though barely seven hours had passed since he’d last parted her legs and buried himself in the sweet, tight heat of her body until she screamed, what he wanted more than anything else was to do it again.

  Holy shit. He had no plan for this.

  “Wow.” Savannah’s throaty murmur sounded beside him. Shit. When had she rolled over and opened her eyes? “You even wake up with that serious look on your face, huh?”

  “What? No, I’m good.” Okay, so it might be a fractured version of the truth, but the last thing Cole wanted was for her to think he regretted sleeping with her. He might’ve been impulsive, but he wasn’t a dick.

  Savannah sighed, her lips lifting into a tiny smile before she sat up to tame her sleep-mussed hair into a knot on top of her head. “Bullshit before breakfast isn’t really your style, Everett. But this conversation will probably be a lot more comfortable if we’ve brushed our teeth and covered our bits, so why don’t we meet in the kitchen in five?”

  Without waiting for a response, she pressed a lightning-fast kiss over his lips, slid out from under the covers, and scooped up the bag of clothes he’d retrieved from her car last night somewhere between rounds two and three. She didn’t so much as spare a backward glance on her way out the bedroom door, and for a split second, Cole sat in his bed, completely poleaxed and more than a little enamored with her.

  And how fucking dangerous was that?

  After a splash of cold water and a double date with his toothbrush and a pair of basketball shorts, Cole made his way down the hall toward the kitchen. The earthy aroma of fresh coffee sent a good-morning pang through his gut, and clearly, Savannah had beat him to the caffeine punch.

  “Hey. Hope you don’t mind that I commandeered the coffeepot,” she said, looking cuter than anyone had a right to in her borrowed T-shirt and a pair of cutoffs that made him wish he’d thrown on a Kevlar-reinforced chastity
belt instead of the thin nylon shorts that were about to publicize his brewing hard-on.

  Coffee, you moron. “Nope. Not at all.” He moved to the fridge, welcoming the blast of cold air as he took out the milk, then turned toward the cupboard over the coffeepot to grab two mugs. “Lucky that you had a few things in your car.”

  “Oh.” Savannah dropped her gaze over the red cotton and faded denim, a few dark tendrils of hair breaking free to frame her face. “I got ready at Zoe’s yesterday, and I always keep a bag of toiletries in my trunk for work, so . . .” Her chest lifted on a deep breath. “Anyway, do you want me to make some breakfast while we talk?”

  Cole lifted a brow. “That’s kind of a loaded question, given your track record at the house,” he pointed out, but rather than popping off at the mouth, she just broke into a catlike smile.

  “You shouldn’t believe everything you see. Sometimes there’s more to a story than meets the eye.”

  Realization gave him a hard tag in the sternum, and he lowered the coffee carafe with a thunk. “You can totally cook, can’t you?”

  Savannah buried most of her smile in her mug, but her eyes were a dead giveaway. “To be fair, my mama taught me and all of my brothers to cook, and I still maintain that Oz was asking for it that first day. But if you’ve got bread and eggs, I make a mean French toast.”

  Cole gestured to the stainless-steel fridge, wondering if she could be any more full of grit or surprises. “By all means. My kitchen is your kitchen.”

  For a couple of minutes, they moved around each other, finding a comfortable rhythm together. Savannah worked just as she did at the firehouse, with both efficient moves and 100 percent devotion to the task in front of her, making it all but impossible for Cole to feel anything but downright damned good in her presence.

  “So, about last night,” Savannah said, pausing to flip the piece of golden-brown French toast in the skillet in front of her. “How much trouble would we get into if anyone found out we slept together?”

  Cole’s muscles threatened lockdown from his spot next to her at the counter. But they couldn’t just ignore their situation, and anyway, the question was valid as hell. “Neither one of us would get fired, if that’s what you’re asking.”