“Yes,” she confirmed. “Thank you. I feel it.” Or rather him. She felt him. And he was making her hot. He had a raw, masculine presence that oozed power and control. The kind that attorneys learned to convey in law school, yet Cole possessed the authority naturally, wore it like a second skin. She bit her bottom lip, her gaze dropping to where the fingers of her free hand splayed wide against the wall of his amazingly broad chest. Cole raised his hand and covered hers, holding her palm where it rested, as if he didn’t want her to stop touching him. His finger slid beneath her chin, lifting her eyes to his as he pinned her in a potent stare. The dull glow of a not-so-distant streetlight illuminated the dark passion in his eyes, and the sexual tension in the cabin suddenly grew thick, heavy, and delicious.
“I wasn’t sure you’d show tonight,” he said, the soft rumble of his voice dancing along her nerves in a sensuous tango.
Words escaped Holly, nerves clamoring inside her. Was he telling her he knew she was acting out of character? She didn’t know. Probably. Yes. He must know. He touched her with cool confidence that said he knew his way around a woman’s body, kissed her like a man who would dare her to take risks. Carried himself like pure, sinful masculinity. He knew she was out of her element.
Good gosh, she could barely breathe—let alone think—from the desire this man stirred in her. It frightened and excited her to imagine this powerful, gorgeous man on top of her, inside her, touching her. She was wet and aching. Needy.
Willing herself past her inhibitions, she acted on the desire to touch his cheek, reaching out for the rough stubble that felt erotic beneath her fingers. “I couldn’t seem to help myself,” she admitted finally in a raspy voice that she barely recognized as her own.
“I like that you couldn’t help yourself.” He kissed her knuckles and opened her palm, his lips brushing the sensitive flesh with ridiculously sensual impact. And his eyes, those dark emotive eyes, held hers. They reached inside her, touched her, moved her.
And for just a moment, she wondered if she had made a mistake. She’d had a few “vanilla” lovers, a few disappointments. But something told her there was nothing “vanilla” about Cole and his demands. Would she be able to handle him? Would she know what to do?
But then, he said, “I’d kiss you, but I’m not sure I will ever stop if I do,” and his expression held such dire need, a confession of need that matched her own, that Holly threw aside inhibitions and fears.
For once in her life, she wanted to be daring. She wanted to know that feeling of completely uninhibited freedom that she’d tried so many times to create on paper, from nothing but pure imagination. And this man was the one to teach her that. On some level, she sensed this particular man could give her a freedom she’d never experienced before. That with him, she would explore her fantasies rather than simply wish them to life. And she wanted that—it fulfilled a need she’d long burned to fulfill.
Desire spiked with her newfound resolve, and she whispered, “I don’t want you to stop,” and slid her hand to his face and pressed her lips to his.
ONE TOUCH OF HOLLY’S LIPS on his and Cole was ramrod hard, his cock pulsing with white-hot desire. Her lips were soft, her touch innocent, yet oh-so-seductive. And the kiss, the kiss was laced with a promise that she was his, soft and willing. She trusted him enough to reach beyond her obvious reservations and give herself to him. He found this realization provocative, arousing. He wanted nothing more than to press Holly against the seat, spread her legs wide, and find his way inside her, but even more, he wanted to be worthy of the woman’s gift—a part of herself no other had experienced.
Cole knew women, and Holly wasn’t a one-night-stand kind of woman. Whatever had led her to this place tonight, needing to explore beyond her comfort zone, it didn’t matter—what mattered was that she’d chosen him. And he planned to take damned good care of her. Slowly, he would guide her into confident territory, where she could explore her wants and needs.
Cole slipped his tongue past her lips, into the wet, warm recesses of her mouth, seducing her with his kiss, making love to her with his mouth. She rewarded him with a soft moan, a sensual sound that coiled in his gut and damned near undid his willpower. He could no sooner stop kissing her in that moment than he could stop breathing.
Deepening the kiss, he tasted her, his cock pulsing with the sweet honey flavor of her lips. She responded to the kiss with fervent need, clinging to him, offering him more of that sexy moaning that licked at his cock and tightened his balls.
Wisps of her silky hair tickled his cheek; the smell of her, the sweet aroused female scent, beckoned to him. He was hungry for her, starving—so he kissed her passionately. His hands slid under her coat to surround her slender waist, then brushed the bottom of her full breasts. She arched forward, melting into him as if she couldn’t help herself, encouraging him. Cole caressed upward, thumbed her hard, plump nipples. He wanted more of her. Naked.
The coat had to go, he decided, and he didn’t ask permission. He tore his lips from hers and slid it off her shoulders. Holly shrugged it away, urgency in her actions. The minute the barrier was removed, Cole wrapped his arms around her, and she willingly leaned into him. She was tiny, delicate, and unbelievably sexy.
He dipped his head, nuzzled her neck, and inhaled deeply. “You smell like vanilla and sugar,” he murmured, sliding her hair to the side to nibble her neck.
She shivered and pressed her body along his length, soft against hard, her fingers latching behind his neck. Telling him she wanted more as much as he did.
In a fluid motion, Cole slid across the seat, lifted her, and pulled her onto his lap. With quick handwork, he slid her dress up her long, lean thighs until it was at her hips. The V of her body settled snugly across his groin, her black tights the only barrier between him and the slick wet heat of her core. He palmed her ass, pressed her hips against his erection. Cole ground his teeth against the throbbing demand of his cock, as she taunted him with how near he was to the ultimate satisfaction of being inside her.
Possessively, hungrily, he funneled his fingers into the silky blond strands of her hair and brought her lips to his. “I warned you I’d never stop kissing you and I don’t plan to,” he told her, a moment before his mouth slanted over hers in hard demand. It was a kiss to claim her, a kiss of domination, a kiss that said tonight she was his. She answered by giving herself to him, her tongue reaching for his, her hands moving over his shoulders like brilliant fire that shot molten heat straight to his cock.
He arched his hips into her, pressed her down against the bulge in his jeans. Rocked with her. Filled his hands with her breasts and thumbed the laces at the embroidered bodice of her dress, engaged by their path straight to her waist. He envisioned ripping those laces away and pulling them wide, exposing her lush breasts with his hands and mouth. And probably scare the hell out of her, he reminded himself, settling for a long, deep kiss before forcefully tearing his lips from hers. “Holly.”
Dark, sexy lashes fluttered before she managed to fix a heavy-lidded stare on him. Her lips were gorgeous, plump and full from his kisses. “Yes,” she finally whispered.
His lips curved with decadent pleasure. “I am coming to like that word.” He gently fingered the laces, and they unraveled downward slowly, exposing a thin line of skin, his cock twitching with anticipation of seeing her. But he kept his eyes on hers.
“Open your dress for me, Holly,” he ordered, releasing her, pressing his fists into the seat, giving her the power, and demanding, silently, that she act.
Shock registered in her face, and she bit her bottom lip; her hands rested on his upper thighs. “What?” she asked nervously.
“Open your dress and free your breasts,” he ordered. “I want to see you, Holly.”
Instant uncertainty filled her lovely face. “Here?”
“Here.”
Her gaze went to the side windows, where snow fell with far too much fury to allow them to stay there much longer. “I don’t know if I
—”
He drew her mouth to his, their breath mingling with the carnal temptation to taste each other. But he held back, challenging her instead. “Let yourself reach beyond your usual limits, Holly.” His teeth scraped her bottom lip. “Don’t you want to experience pleasure without limits?”
She inhaled a shaky breath and then brushed her lips across his, tasted him with a sexy slide of her tongue before leaning back and reaching for her laces. Satisfaction rolled within him as he watched her part the material and display the silky fabric of a sheer black bra. High and full, her breasts overflowed the tiny piece of sexy fabric. The truck was toasty warm now, but he was on fire because of Holly.
“Unhook it,” he ordered, his dick thick, aching to be inside her. “Let me see your nipples.”
She did as he ordered, unsnapping the front clasp, which thrust those perky, pink nipples in the air as she shrugged the straps off her shoulders.
“You’re beautiful,” he said, filling his hands with her breasts and tilting his head to suckle one tight little peak into his mouth.
Gasping, she arched her back, clinging to him, her hand sliding through his hair as he licked, kissed, nipped. Panting, she started to rock her hips against the hard line of his dick, the friction damned near making him come in his pants. But this time was for her, and only her. It would be one orgasm in a series of many.
“Take what you need, baby,” he said, gently pressing his cheek to hers as he savored her. Cole took his time touching her, finding out what pleased her, what got her hot. He wanted to know every way to touch her, every way to make her cry out in pleasure. And she was close to release now, so very close she was unable to kiss him, her warm breath tickling his cheek.
“Oh,” she gasped. “Oh . . . I . . .” She buried her head in his neck, her hair in his face, but he didn’t care. He loved it. Loved every fucking minute of her pleasure.
“Come for me, Holly,” he whispered, his hands, his entire body, moving with her, working for her ultimate satisfaction. She gasped and tensed, and Cole ran his hand up her body, holding her as she shuddered with a sudden release. Caressed her as she came down, as her body relaxed.
But there was no relaxing for Holly. She tensed again, her face buried in his neck. “I can’t believe I . . . I . . .” Abruptly, she pushed away from him, cut her gaze to his chest, and tried to pull her dress together. “I have to go.”
No fucking way was he about to let her dart away, not without a fight. “Stop, Holly,” he ordered. “Stop doing this to yourself. Watching you come like that was amazing. All it did was make me want you more.” He touched her cheek. “No limits, remember?”
She studied him, assessing his words, and slowly her expression softened. But just when he thought he had her interest again, voices sounded in the distance. Instantly, she flew into motion, scrambling off his lap, and fumbling with her dress.
“No one is parked close enough to—”
A knock pounded on the bed of the truck, a warning that someone was approaching.
“Fuck!” The word ripped from his throat because he knew who was knocking. Jacob!
“Oh my God,” Holly bit out between her teeth, tugging on her coat. “I can’t believe I let this happen.”
She slid across the seat and shoved open the door. Cole reached for her, but she managed to evade his grasp, and jumped out of the truck.
“Thanks,” she said, wind and snow whipping wildly around her. “Or whatever I’m supposed to say under these circumstances.” She shoved the door shut.
Cole pounded the steering wheel, and then realized he didn’t even know her full name. He jerked his door open, and ice pelted down on his skin, snow instantly clinging to his shirt.
“Holly! ” he called, noting she was already halfway to The Tavern. He started to pursue, but he drew up short when he realized it wasn’t Jacob standing there, hands in a leather bomber jacket, but Abe, with his truck running a few feet away, as if he was in a hurry.
“Sorry, man,” Abe offered, motioning to Holly. He wasn’t an instigator, not one to show up unannounced, without Jacob by his side, prodding him. “But Jacob broke his damned leg.”
“What? How?”
“Some bastard hit his wife, so Jacob intervened. Managed to land a foot on some ice in the process.”
Ouch. “How bad?”
“Bad,” Abe said. “Real bad. Thought you’d want to follow us to the hospital.”
There was no question—he was following. He might want to beat Jacob’s ass now and then, but Jacob was his baby brother. Cole shook his head. Before he turned back to his truck, Cole quirked a brow. “Did he at least pop the bastard a good one before he went down?”
Abe laughed. “Yeah,” he said. “Popped him a nice shiner. But you know Jacob. He’s looking at possible surgery, and he’s worried about the woman having repercussions from his actions. He’s pretty freaked out.”
“That’s our boy,” Cole said, referring to the way Jacob was always fighting for the underdog. More than once, it had gotten him in trouble but always with good intentions. And no real man hit a woman. “Tell him I’ll call the sheriff.”
Abe nodded and Cole slid into his truck and yanked the door shut. Instantly, the sweet scent of her flared his nostrils. Holly. Regret ground through his nerve endings, pulsed in his cock. Turned out, he’d become a one-night stand after all. One that had finished with far too little of a good thing. And he couldn’t be happy about that. No matter how fantasy-worthy this truck had now become.
Chapter Four
Three days after her hot interlude with a sexy stranger, Holly sat at Betty’s Diner, her laptop in front of her. Surprisingly, she’d managed to put words on a few pages. Her cottage writing escape had become home of the “ruby wish” and subsequent fantasy man, thus a distraction. Which pretty much defeated the purpose of coming home for the holidays this early.
She couldn’t seem to get anything done there for replaying that night with Cole. The kissing, the touching, how he removed her dress. She plopped her elbow on the table and rested her chin on her hand. God. The dress. And then the rash escape out of complete mortification that, once she’d recovered from her embarrassment, left her wondering what might have happened had she stayed.
“Get you more hot cocoa before I leave for the night, sweetie?” Holly glanced up at Jean, the fiftysomething waitress who’d worked at the diner since Holly was a teen. “No, thanks, Jean.”
“How’s the next best seller coming?” she asked. “You sure been working hard. And here I thought you got to sit in you pj’s and eat bonbons.”
Holly grinned at that. “I admit to working in my share of sleepwear, but I’ve yet to eat a bonbon. Though I’ve heard they’re quite yummy.” She made a mental note to tell her mom to cool the bragging, and hug her for being proud enough to do it. Mom had made sure everyone she’d ever met in this lifetime knew when Holly had made the USA Today list.
Jean snickered. “Well,” she said, hands on her robust hips, accented by a tightly tied white apron, “I can’t produce bonbons, but we got plenty of pie and ice cream in the back if you decide you want some. Carol and Susan will be here until ten.”
Holly glanced at her watch. It was eight now. She hated writing with a time limit. Damn. She shook off that counterproductive thought and focused on Jean, offering her a genuine smile. “Have a good night and thanks for letting me hog your table so long.” It was true that small towns had negatives, like gossip gabbers, but it also came with lots of friendly faces, a warmer feeling in general that had been too easily missed on previous quick visits home. “It’s nice to be home.”
“You can hog my table any day,” she said. “Come back tomor row.”
Behind Holly, the bell on the door chimed as it had many times since her arrival. She ignored any curiosity about new customers now as she had every other newcomer’s entrance, avoiding distractions. Cole was enough to distract her focus on writing. She didn’t need more.
“I probab
ly will,” Holly said. “I’ve gotten more done these past few hours than I have in a week.”
“Good,” she said. “Glad we could help.” She reached in her apron and pulled out a book. “There is a little favor if I could ask?” She slid the book onto the table where Holly could see it was a copy of Deadly Suspicions by Holly Rivers, her pen name, which she’d chosen to avoid an accusation of distraction at the law firm while she was still there. Jean grinned. “Me and the girls were wondering if you could autograph our books. I mean how often can you say you knew a bestselling author when they were in braces and pigtails?”
“Of course,” Holly said, blushing. She picked up a pen, scribbling a personalized note in the inside cover before handing it to Jean. “And for the record, I never wore pigtails any more than I eat bonbons.” Carol, one of the other waitresses, a redheaded fireball who kept all the customers—and Betty—in line, slid a couple copies of the book onto the table. “I’ll leave them here. No rush.”
Holly laughed. “You got it, Carol. And actually, I’ll take a cup of coffee after all.” She had to make the most of these last two hours.
“Make that two,” came a deep familiar male voice just before Cole slid into the seat across from her. Holly’s eyes went wide, her heart thrumming wildly in her chest.
“Anything for one of the Wiley boys,” Carol said, and rushed away.
“I better go, now that trouble has arrived,” Jean said, teasing Cole, clearly familiar with him.
“Hey now,” Cole said, giving Jean a sexy, one-dimple smile that would have set any woman’s heart racing. “You’ll give Holly the wrong idea. Because I know you must be referring to Jacob and Abe.”
Jean chuckled, the light in her eyes saying that Cole’s appeal reached across the age-groups. “ ’ Cause you ain’t got a lick of trouble in you, do you now, boy?”
“Not a lick,” Cole replied mischievously, cutting Holly a sideways look.
Unwrapping Holly Page 4