by Lauren Layne
Cole’s fingers went to the button of her pants, and she helped him, wiggling them down her legs until she could kick them aside.
She crawled over him then, shamelessly rubbing her naked body against his, relishing the contrast of their bodies, hard against soft, rough against smooth, big against small.
Cole’s hands were on her butt, her thighs, then he slipped one finger under the fabric of her underwear, sliding down until he found her wetness.
He slipped a finger inside, then a second.
Penelope moaned as he slowly thrust his two fingers in and out of her, his eyes latching onto hers. His eyes were dark with want. Want for her. For this.
But for how long?
Driven by a sudden, desperate fear that their days as lovers were numbered, Penelope rode his hand harder until she came with a shuddering, harsh climax that was both too much and not nearly enough.
Before the last shudder had ripped through her, Penelope moved off him, digging around in her nightstand until she found a condom.
She’d never felt this frantic. Greedy. She’d never wanted like this.
Cole started to reach for the condom, but she batted his hand aside, instead rolling it on herself.
Then she peeled off her underwear and resumed her position on top of him, feeling heady with a strange feminine power at the flare of lust in his eyes.
“Penelope—”
She found his hands, kissing his knuckles before she pinned his hands above his head.
He was twice her size. He could easily fling her off and take control.
He didn’t.
“I’m all yours,” he said gruffly.
That was all it took.
Three simple words, and Penelope’s inhibitions flew out the window.
For years, she’d been thinking she wasn’t good at this. That she wasn’t sexy. That she wasn’t worth wanting.
Years of ridiculousness fixed by three words from one magnificent man.
Acting on instinct, Penelope shifted upward slightly until her nipples brushed softly over his mouth.
Cole lifted his head, his tongue fluttering against the tip of one breast before blowing cold air against it teasingly. In response, she lowered herself farther until he had no choice but to take her nipple into his mouth and suck.
“Cole,” she gasped.
His lips moved to the other breast, all the time keeping his hands pinned to the pillow. He let it be her show. Her moment.
She was tempted to ride the sweet torture forever, but the man’s mouth was too skilled.
She wanted him now. Inside.
Penelope sat up, giving him a naughty look through her lashes as her hand wrapped around him and guided him to her opening. She held his gaze as she slowly sank onto him in one slow, sensuous movement.
Cole’s eyes slitted and his breath grew more ragged as he filled her, but still he didn’t move.
Not until she lifted once more before sinking down onto him, harder this time, deeper, did his hands slide down to her hips with a quiet groan that could have been a prayer or a curse.
Penelope had never been on top before. Thirty-one years old, and she was just now learning what it was like to ride a man. To have all the power.
And just when she thought it couldn’t get any better, Cole licked his fingers and then reached to play with her.
“Let go, Pen.”
She did. She arched back with a victorious cry as she gave herself completely to him.
“Good girl,” he whispered before wrapping both arms around her and rolling her on her back beneath him.
He thrust into her again and again, his eyes holding hers as though trying to tell her something.
She tried to understand—tried to grasp what he was telling her with his body, but she was too far gone with want.
Cole slid an arm behind her neck, cradling her face into the hot, slick skin of his shoulder, whispering her name so reverently she thought she imagined it.
And then he went over the edge, her name a harsh groan on his lips.
Cole stayed lying over her for longer than usual, his breath hot against her temple, as her lips soothed the scratch marks on his shoulder that she didn’t remember making.
He pulled away with another kiss to her cheek as he eased off the bed and went into the bathroom.
He returned a few moments later just as she’d managed to muster enough energy to crawl under the sheets.
Cole hesitated near the side of the bed, his features flickering with vulnerability, and Penelope’s heart seemed to lodge in her throat.
She held the sheets up in wordless invitation, and watched as his vulnerability flickered into relief.
Cole pulled her against him, and she went easily, as though she belonged there.
Still, neither spoke. Not about what had just transpired, nor about what it meant.
And happy as she was, just before she drifted off to sleep, Penelope couldn’t help but wonder how long this could continue.
She was now 100 percent positive that she couldn’t honor her promise to Cole that she wouldn’t fall in love.
If she told him, she’d lose him.
But if she didn’t tell him…
She’d lose herself.
Chapter 25
Sunday marked a first for Cole: he’d rescheduled his and his brother’s standing Sunday date.
It hadn’t been an easy decision. But Jake had scored four Yankees tickets directly behind home plate and invited Cole and Penelope. And even though it was Sunday—his and Bobby’s day—Cole had found himself tempted. Tempted to spend a sunny afternoon with friends and a woman who was, well…he didn’t know.
Something had shifted between Cole and Penelope.
As far as what was different, Cole didn’t have a fucking clue. He couldn’t have named it. He only knew it felt a good deal more important than weekend bed partners and weekday colleagues.
And for the life of him, he didn’t know whether to be freaked out or happy.
Bobby had agreed to the change of plans with so much enthusiasm, Cole half wondered if Bobby hadn’t been waiting for this moment—waiting for Cole to have a reason to have a relationship with someone other than his big brother.
Of course, it didn’t hurt that the Mets were away, so a ball game was out of the question anyway, since Bobby good-naturedly refused to go to Yankee Stadium.
But whatever Bobby’s motivations, his brother had approved. Heartily.
Still, Bobby’s approval didn’t quite ease the sting of guilt Cole felt when he and Penelope walked into Yankee Stadium with Jake and Grace Malone.
As though sensing this, Penelope’s fingers found his and squeezed.
“Okay,” Grace said, clapping her hands together. “They have wine here, right? I know beer’s customary, but I could really go for a nice chardonnay….”
Penelope stared at her in horror. “You can’t be serious. This is a ballpark.”
“An evolved one,” Grace said with a little wink.
“But—but—” Penelope was sputtering.
Grace gave her a little pat on the shoulder. “I can see you’re all about the classics, so how about we split up and meet back after everyone finds their food and beverage of choice?”
“If she brings sushi, I’ll have to unfriend her,” Penelope muttered to Cole after Grace had dragged Jake toward the wine cart.
“Fair enough,” Cole agreed as they headed to the main concession stand. “So what’s our plan? Hot dog?”
Penelope studied the menu with as much interest as a sommelier perusing a wine list.
“I’m thinking…pretzel,” she finally pronounced. “I haven’t had a good one in forever. Or wait, do I want nachos?”
“I notice popcorn’s not in the running,” he said.
She smiled. “I know it’s been a week since I was doused in the stuff, but I swear sometimes I still get a whiff of butter. Speaking of which, how’s Bobby? Are you sure it’s okay that you’re not hanging ou
t with him today?”
There it was again. That stab of guilt.
“We’re going to the Mets game on Wednesday,” Cole told Penelope as they inched their way closer to the cashier.
“Nice,” Penelope said. “What’s he going to do today while you’re bumming around with me? Probably another killer party?”
Cole smiled. “Probably. The guy is Mr. Popular. And he’s been talking nonstop lately about some woman named Carly, so I’m thinking he’s got a crush.”
Penelope shook her head. “The Sharpe brothers have moves. Poor Carly’s heart doesn’t stand a chance.”
He slid his hand behind her neck, tilting her head up so he could see her face beneath the brim of her cap. “What about your heart? Where does it stand on the whole Sharpe brothers’ charm thing?”
Penelope’s lips parted in surprise, probably at the quiet urgency in his voice. He told himself to let her go—that the food line at Yankee Stadium wasn’t the time or the place to have this conversation.
He didn’t even know what this conversation was. Or what he wanted to hear her say—
Scratch that.
He knew exactly what words he wanted to hear. He wanted to know that she was his. That this was more than a weekends-only fling. That she was falling for him as helplessly as he was falling for her.
So tell her. Tell her how you feel.
And then the people in front of them finished ordering, and it was Penelope and Cole’s turn to order.
Moment ruined by junk food.
Cole ran a hand over his face, feeling both disappointed and relieved.
Penelope ordered nachos and a pretzel, and then turned to Cole expectantly, waiting for him to place his own order. He looked at her in surprise. “You’re eating all of that?”
She snorted. “What, you thought I’d share? Get your own food, Sharpe.”
He shook his head and ordered a hot dog and a Coke.
The bored kid behind the counter loaded their food onto a tray, and Cole carried it to the condiment stand.
“Yuck, no ketchup,” she said when he went to add it to his hot dog.
“It’s my hot dog,” he said.
“Which I’ll be having a bite of. And I don’t like ketchup on my dogs.”
“What happened to no sharing?”
Penelope blinked up at him. “Are you, or are you not, a gentleman, Cole Sharpe?”
In response, he deliberately added ketchup to his hot dog. More than he usually would.
Then he took a big bite, holding her gaze the entire time as he chewed.
Her eyes narrowed. “That’s how it’s gonna be, huh? This is our ball game future?”
He licked ketchup from his lip.
She went on her toes, getting up in his face. “Game on, Sharpe.”
“Penelope Pope, are you roughing up a man for his hot dog?” Grace asked from behind them.
“That was the plan, until he defiled it with ketchup.” Penelope scanned both Grace and Jake, before her gaze locked on Jake’s hot dog. “Malone. Give me that.”
Jake sighed and handed it over as he met Cole’s eyes with a questioning smile. “This is the one, huh?”
Oh yes. This is the one.
Seemingly oblivious to the conversation going on around her, Penelope took a bite of Jake’s hot dog—no ketchup—before handing it back with a happy sigh.
“That’s all I wanted, Cole. One bite.”
“Fair enough,” he said. “So you won’t mind giving Jake one of your nachos in return, right?”
Penelope clutched their food tray to her chest and gave Jake a warning glare. “Don’t you dare.”
Cole put his palm on the top of her head. “Come on, weirdo. Game’s about to start.”
They headed toward their section, and Cole glanced down at her. “Want me to carry the tray?”
Penelope all but rattled at him, and he smiled. How had he ever thought a boring model-type could keep him happy? All he needed was a pint-size baseball fan.
Unlike last weekend, the weather was perfect. Just a handful of white puffy clouds, the slightest early-summer breeze, and plenty of bright sunshine.
Baseball weather.
“Hey, Grace,” Cole said, putting an arm around Penelope’s shoulder as he looked over her head to where Grace delicately sipped her chardonnay.
“Hmm?”
He gave her a playful wink. “Remember that time you and I nearly made out for the kiss cam in this very stadium?”
Penelope glanced up at him, then at Grace. “Really. Do tell.”
Grace rolled her eyes. “It’s so not what it sounds like. Trust me.”
“It was going to be epic, Gracie, you know it was,” Cole teased.
Jake gave Cole a bland look over his wife’s head. “Sharpe. I will kill you.”
“More like you owe me for helping you come to your senses.”
Penelope was all but bouncing in her seat. “Come on, fill me in! This sounds juicy.”
“Oh it is,” Cole said. “But…another story for another time, sweetheart.”
“Yeah, like when we’re all dead,” Jake muttered.
Cole’s phone buzzed in his back pocket just as the first pitch was about to be thrown. He pulled it out—a local area code, but not a number he recognized. Cole shoved it back in his pocket. They could leave a voicemail.
The first Oakland batter went down swinging, and Cole cheered loudly with the rest of the stadium. Had to love a game that started with a strikeout.
Cole’s phone buzzed again, with the short voicemail notification. He thought about pulling it out, but the crowd was too keyed up on sunshine and beer and the Yankees. There was no way he’d be able to hear anything.
The second batter grounded out. The third struck out.
Cole stole one of Penelope’s nachos and winked at her when she glared.
His phone rang again as Oakland took the field for the bottom of the first. He pulled it out—same number.
“Hey, I’m gonna go take this,” he said to Penelope.
She nodded, cheeks full of pretzel, and Cole headed toward the main section, taking the steps two at a time.
“Cole Sharpe,” he said, once he’d gotten far enough away from the noise to answer.
“Hi, Mr. Sharpe? Is this the brother of Robert Sharpe?”
Cole froze. “Yeah, I’m Bobby’s brother. Who’s this?”
“This is Bellevue Hospital.”
Cole’s hand reached out blindly for the wall as he tried to steady himself.
Hospital.
The entire stadium drifted away, and it was only Cole, his ragged breath, and the voice of a stranger on the other end of the phone.
Oh, God. Bobby.
“Mr. Sharpe, I’m sorry to inform you that your brother’s been involved in an accident…”
Chapter 26
Penelope wasn’t sure how long she sat staring at the text on her cellphone, but it was long enough for Grace to give her a gentle nudge in the ribs.
“Pen. You okay? And where the heck is Cole; he’s been gone for like two and a half innings. I thought this was his team?”
Penelope opened her mouth, but no words came out. Instead she handed her phone to Grace. Jake leaned over to read the message.
Bobby was in an accident. Headed to hospital.
“Who’s Bobby?” Grace asked, her brown eyes wide with concern.
“His older brother,” Penelope replied.
Grace glanced at Jake in surprise. “Did you know Cole had a brother?”
Jake looked troubled. “Yeah. He rarely mentions him. I assumed they were at odds or something.”
Penelope swallowed. “He has Down syndrome and lives in a group care home. I can’t imagine what might have happened—”
Why hadn’t he taken her?
She understood Cole’s being in a hurry. Of course. But she would have gone with him if she’d known. She would have held his hand, and—
Penelope yanked her cellphone back out of
her friend’s hand and typed a response to Cole.
What hospital? Is he okay?
Penelope spent the next four innings staring at her phone as she waited for a response that never came.
“Maybe I should just go to the hospital,” she said, for the tenth time.
“But which one?” Jake asked.
“All of them.”
“It’s New York City, hon. There’s not just the one hospital off Main Street.”
Penelope huffed out a breath. Jake was right. She’d already researched the various places where they could have taken Bobby, and there were a lot.
And she could call, but she was pretty sure they’d only release patient info to family members. What was she supposed to say? Hi, the brother of my nonboyfriend whom I only sleep with on weekends was in an accident.
“Come on, Cole,” Penelope muttered, staring down at her phone and willing it to give her a response.
“I can’t just sit here,” she said, leaning forward and curling into herself. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt so miserable or helpless.
Grace rubbed her back. “Do you want to head back into the city? That way, if he does get back to you, you’ll be closer and can go to him.”
It was true. Bobby lived in Manhattan, so chances were, whatever happened to him had happened there. The closer she got to Manhattan, the closer she’d be to Bobby.
And to Cole.
“Yeah,” she said, “but you two stay here.”
“Hell no. We’re going with you,” Jake said. Grace nodded in agreement.
Penelope opened her mouth, but Jake cut her off. “We won’t go into the hospital, once you figure out where he is. We don’t belong there. But we’ll be there every step of the way up until then, ’kay?”
“Are you sure?”
“He’s our friend too,” Jake said quietly.
“Penelope.” Grace put a hand on her arm, her expression concerned. “This isn’t some little fling, is it? It’s more than you trying to move on from that Evan guy?”
Penelope couldn’t stop the little laugh that bubbled up.
Evan. She hadn’t thought about him since they’d ditched him at the restaurant on Friday night.
That anyone could think that Cole and Evan belonged in the same sentence, or even in the same thought…