by Liz Meldon
He waited a moment, hands smoothing up her legs and curling under her knees, to give her a chance to catch up. To pull away. To put a gentle stop to where this was headed. But she didn’t. Instead, Skye leaned back, her elbows propped up on the step behind her, and cocked her head to the side in the most stunning display of come hither Cole had ever seen.
Not needing to be told twice, Cole kissed each knee, then showered her freckled thighs with affection. Tongue. Teeth. Lips. Leave no stone unturned. When he reached the crest of her sex, he found her glistening. Trembling only a little.
He swallowed hard, his eyes darting up to hers as he swept his tongue over her folds. She hissed his name, her head tipping back with palpable delight, and he knew he had to up the ante. Smirking, he circled her swollen bud, then engulfed it with his hot mouth, savoring each moan, each whimper, each spasm of the woman before him.
Worried that this position might put strain on her back, Cole hoisted her legs over his shoulders and took the brunt of her weight. When she started to protest, her hand threading through his hair, he returned to the task at hand: making her scream.
If Cole was forced to compliment himself, he would praise his attention to detail and his thoroughness in getting the job done right. While some men may have been content to simply get the task over with, Cole wanted, needed, perfection. Skye deserved that much after everything he had put her through. So, he listened to when her breath hitched, when she moaned, when she whispered his name. He learned by how hard she tugged at his hair, the way her legs shifted about on his shoulders so that he could taste her deeper. He adapted his technique, perfecting it slowly but meticulously through trial and error, making a quick study of how Skye liked to be pampered. She preferred her clit to be circled, not pressed on or swept over. He wanted this down to a science for next time, so that when she climaxed then, it would be better, faster, and more potent than today.
She came shortly after he switched things around, circling her clit with his tongue and massaging her inner walls with two fingers. The position let him watch her come undone, let him savor every nuance as she quivered and cried out breathlessly, her body tightening around him and his slowly thrusting fingers until she sagged down. A sheen of perspiration coated her figure, and she blushed from her cheekbones down to the valley of her breasts. Carefully, Cole eased away from her, masking his wince; his cock was ready to explode at this point, so desperate for her that it was suddenly difficult to think straight.
“Thank you,” she murmured, a hand on her forehead as she stared down at him. In that light, she appeared utterly relaxed, totally at ease, and Cole rocked back on his heels, grinning.
“Anytime.”
They appraised one another briefly, the easy comfort shifting the longer they sat there to something more urgent. He noticed it in the way her breath quickened, in the embers pulsing where her fire had once been, the flames doused, perhaps, but certainly not extinguished. Swallowing hard, committing her taste to memory, Cole stood and offered a hand. Skye accepted, sliding her elegant hand into his and grasping it with more conviction than he had expected. He helped her upright, steadying her for a moment, then, with what he hoped was an easy smile of his own, he ducked down and hoisted her over his shoulder.
“Cole!” she scream-giggled, swatting at his back as he straightened out. “Put me down!”
“No, not yet,” he told her, brightening at the sound of her happiness—even if only temporary, given everything else. But that was all happening outside. As soon as he had shut the door behind them, their problems had taken a backseat. For now, he wanted to bask in her, to enjoy her, and, if she let him, Cole just wanted to love her.
Engaging in a little playful back-and-forth, he carried her through his Coral Bay home, straight down to his bedroom overlooking the ocean. She quieted as they crossed the threshold, propping herself up with her hands on the swell of his lower back. Gently, he lowered her onto his meticulously made bed, and as she crawled back, he got rid of those damn restricting briefs and shoes. Skye unclasped her bra and tossed it aside, and he noticed her gulp as he took her in.
Slowly, he clambered onto the bed, and as he crawled forward, she lay back—the beginnings of yet another dance. Cole started at her ankles, kissing his way up her body until he reached her lips, which he claimed with vigor. She sighed beneath him, caressing his cheek, fingertips ghosting across his recently shaven skin. Catching her wrist before it reached his hair, he pinned it to the bed. In turn, she locked her legs behind him, her enticing heat beckoning him closer.
His eyes closed when she grasped his cock with her free hand and steered him into her. Although every fiber of his being wanted to plunge in and just take her, Cole practiced patience, filling her slowly. Their kiss weakened as she gasped, their hips colliding with a startling sense of finality that made his chest tight. Ignoring the fear, he cradled her head in one hand, the other still holding her wrist down, and pumped in and out of her slowly. Sweetly. Gently—relishing every second, just in case it was their last.
Breath quickening, Skye wrenched her arm free and wrapped both around his neck. This time, she pulled him impossibly close, and Cole buried his face in the nape of her neck, breathing her in, exploring her with every sense at his disposal. Sight—her beauty. Sound—her little moans. Smell—his gift on her neck. Taste—the sensitive skin on the hollow of her throat. Touch—everything. They rocked together, Skye bucking up to meet each thrust of his hips, her grip unwavering. Their pace hastened together, steadily gaining speed until he felt her clench around him again, his name tumbling from her lips as a sob.
He let go then, spilling himself into her as a blinding pleasure skyrocketed through his body. As he floated back to earth, overwhelmed but content, Skye rolled them onto their sides, where they remained, holding one another, catching their breath, and forgetting the rest of the world.
Skye hadn’t meant to still be crying when Cole emerged from his ensuite bathroom. Frankly, she’d hoped to have her shitstorm of feelings under control by then. It wasn’t fair for him to walk back into the room after what they had just done—twice—and find her crying. But that was the situation, and Skye tried to rectify it as quickly as she could. Unfortunately, he had already seen the tears, and there was no taking them back.
“Skye?” Cole crossed the room and perched on the edge of the bed. She noticed and appreciated the distance he put between them, and she offered a watery smile as thanks, still tucked under his covers, naked.
“I’m fine,” she told him, though she knew neither of them believed her. “I just… I keep doing this.”
His eyebrows twitched up before he turned his attention to his tightly clasped hands. Her intention hadn’t been to hurt him, but clearly they had already crossed that hurdle. Sighing, she sat back on the mountain of pillows behind her and took a few deep breaths. After they had made love the first time, Skye just couldn’t drag herself away from him. Try as she might, it was like she was a magnet and the bed was one giant fridge, holding her exactly where she belonged. They’d showered separately after their second tryst in his bed, and Skye still hadn’t found the will to leave just yet.
“When I ended things between us,” she started, knowing now was the time for honesty if there ever was one, “all of us, I didn’t just do it for kicks. It was better for me emotionally to break the contract and get some distance, but as soon as I see you, either of you, I just fall back into the same old routine. And…” Her voice wobbled as she wiped the streaks of tears from her cheeks. “And I have to stop. Nothing’s changed. You still work too much for the relationship I need, and I still can’t make a fucking decision between you and Finn, and that’s not fair—”
“Skye, stop.”
She gulped, lifting her wet, heavy gaze to Cole. His knuckles had gone white, as though he were clenching his hands together so hard that he could break bone. Much to her surprise, however, he unlaced his fingers, crackling his knuckles as he always did, and then crawled up th
e bed to sit beside her. There was still about a two-foot gap between them, but when his arm fell to his side, Skye reached out and took his hot, slightly clammy hand.
“I’ve…started to pull back a little at work,” he admitted softly. “It’s a process, but I’m doing it.”
She wasn’t sure what to say to that. Admittedly, it was good news, but she had no idea what pulling back “a little” meant to him. It could still mean insane hours, constant travel, and two phones on him at all times.
“Do you know why I work so much?” he asked. When she shook her head, she felt him clicking his nails together, and she held his hand tighter to still the movement. He let out a shaky breath, his brow furrowed. “Ever since I can remember, I’ve had anxiety. Not just fleeting moments of panic, but, in many ways, crippling feelings. It wasn’t until my dad died that my mum was allowed to put me in therapy, get me medicated, all that. As a kid, leaving the house, facing other people, doing things in public… It was debilitating. Panic attacks. Inconsolable crying. Bed wetting. Racing thoughts and insomnia. I had everything. So, all I did was sit on the computer. At least there, I had a shield. It was habit-forming, and it followed me into my professional career.” His voice hitched, but a soft throat clearing seemed to dislodge it. “I’ve gotten it relatively under control, but I’m afraid some social situations cause it to, er, flare. You in particular, our relationship, have always been a trigger. I-I lost myself a little when things started to change between us, and for that I have to apologize. It isn’t an excuse, but…”
He wouldn’t meet her eye, but his other hand had started frantically clicking his nails. So, Skye shuffled closer, reached over him, and stilled that one too, bringing them both into her lap and holding tight.
“Why haven’t you ever told me any of this?” she asked. They had talked about their respective childhoods over the years. Cole knew Skye’s mom had plunged them into debt after her dad left, and her death when Skye was nineteen had forced her to skip college and work until all the debt was paid. In turn, Skye knew Cole’s dad had been a piece of work, and that his mom now lived in a cushy English cottage that Cole had purchased the first year his company was profitable. Mental illness, meanwhile, had never come up once in their conversations. She’d always known him to need control in his profession life, and she had memorized his physical ticks, but she hadn’t ever thought…
“A grown man with anxiety?” He offered a hollow laugh, his cheeks flushed and his eyes wandering around the room—as if searching for an escape. “Not very sexy, is it? When we first met, we agreed to steer the relationship clear of love and sex, but I still wanted you to…to… You know. I wanted to be appealing. This side of me isn’t exactly appealing. Medication helps tremendously, but certain issues still,” he swallowed hard, “make the world feel so loud, sometimes. I didn’t want to burden you with it. You were already doing so much for me.”
She shook her head, frowning. While she could understand the thought pattern, it wasn’t applicable to their relationship. Not in the slightest. “I like you for you. The whole package, your workaholic tendencies and all. This doesn’t change who you are to me. I wish I’d known from the beginning, because I think it makes me understand you better.”
“I’ve been ashamed of it,” he muttered, “for a long time. My dad… Well, he didn’t help.”
“Cole.” She grabbed him by the chin and forced him to look at her. “You have been my best friend for years. I know it’s scary to tell someone about this, but I…”
I love you no matter what. The realization hit her like a freight train. Even now, after a month apart, none of her feelings had disappeared. Try as she might to fight them, to contain them, to forget them, they were still there, ardent as ever. Sighing softly, she sat back against the pillows, withdrawing her hands and knotting them together on her lap.
What the hell was she supposed to do now?
They sat in a weighted silence for what felt like hours, side by side, both looking everywhere but at the other person. Finally, Cole faced her.
“When I was growing up, my dad used to beat the holy hell out of my mum,” he admitted, and Skye looked to him sharply, her eyes wide as he nodded. “Having my anxiety and a dad who scared the absolute shit out of me… It wasn’t easy. I still struggle with the fact that I wasn’t the least bit sad when he had his heart attack, because it meant that Mum and I were finally free. It took me a few years to sort myself out, with her help, but after that, I knew I had to take care of her. I hadn’t stepped up before, and I…”
He looked away, his eyes glassy, and Skye reacted without thinking: she pulled him into a tight hug, rubbing his back, her heart aching.
“Cole, I’m so sorry.”
“One day, my little internet security company and its apps just…exploded,” he told her as they broke apart, their hands still resting on each other’s arms. “Suddenly I had hundreds and hundreds of people who worked for me, and I was hit with this need to make sure they were taken care of. It kept me up at night, worrying about all of them. I guess my long-winded explanation of why I work so much is that…I want to make sure every single one of them is treated fairly, with respect. I do too much, I know, but I’ve always felt like I had to, after everything.”
“You can’t save everyone,” she murmured. “That’s not how the world works, unfortunately.”
“Logically, I know.” A flicker of a smile crossed his lips before vanishing. “It’s made me lose you. And I regret it. I regret pretending that what we had was enough for me, but I can’t… I can’t give you everything you deserve right now. Not by myself, anyway.”
Skye nodded as the fog started to clear from her mind, slowly piecing together the whole picture as she had never been able to before.
“What happened with Finn and I,” Cole started, his voice sounding more certain, “I know it upset you. Confused you. But I believe we have a solution to all this, something that will work for all of us.”
And, just like that, everything was muddled again.
“I hadn’t meant to get into it today without Finn, but—”
“Don’t,” she said softly, placing a hand on his chest. “I need some time to process everything. Not what you’ve told me today, just… Time to process us.”
“Us can include him, you know,” Cole told her, then pressed his lips together and leaned back when she shot him a look. “Fine. Sorry. Yes. Take the time you need to get your thoughts together. Are you at least open to sitting down with the both of us?”
“I…” The thought of being in the same room with them anytime soon made her stomach churn, but her last plan—quitting cold turkey—had only made her miserable. So, she nodded. “Sure. Just give me a couple days to process.”
“Of course. Shall I call you a car?”
“Please,” Skye said after a brief pause, smiling. “Thank you.”
She tugged the covers over her bare chest. While she didn’t want to leave, she knew she should. Skye needed the distance from both Cole and Finn in order to see her situation clearly. She had to digest her experiences from the last two days, how she felt being with both of them again, and genuinely consider their offer to meet up to talk about this supposed solution. She couldn’t do that naked in Cole’s bed.
Even once she was dressed and back in her own apartment, sitting in her own bed under her own covers, with a purring Oz in her lap and a glass of wine on the bedside table, untouched, Skye still wasn’t sure she could do it.
But she had to.
For the sake of the three hearts involved, Skye knew she had to try.
7
S.O.K. (Save Our Kitty)
At precisely 11:07 PM on Friday night, Cole’s personal phone chirped to life from the other side of his enormous kitchen island. He nearly dropped his bamboo spatula into the pan of sizzling ground beef; he had realized fifteen minutes ago that he hadn’t had dinner and was starting to see spots, so thawed ground beef and veg would have to fill the void. Oh, and the left
over cold pasta he’d been munching on ever since he strolled into the kitchen, a bit lightheaded, to see to a proper dinner.
His adrenaline spiked. It was around this time he ought to be getting a rather important phone call from London regarding, well, the future of his professional life.
Tossing the spatula aside, he jogged around the counter and scrambled to pick up his phone—only to frown at the sight of Skye’s name on the screen.
True to his word, Cole had been giving her time to sort through her thoughts and feelings, and had even managed to persuade a mildly impatient Finn to do the same. Despite personally wrapping each and every one of Oz’s birthday presents, he’d had his assistant drop them off at Skye’s apartment a few days ago, along with a note that said he missed her, just to show she was still on his mind even if he had no intention of breaking their agreement.
The fight-or-flight feeling he’d been suffering all night, waiting to for news from Marta, only intensified seeing Skye’s name; Cole tapped the answer button and brought the phone to his ear. After all, he had finally decided to fight. No more running.
“Skye,” he said, hoping to sound breezy and completely fine after their last conversation about his personal struggles. It had been a heavy talk, but somehow Cole had felt lighter in the days that followed. Sharing his lifelong secret with the woman he loved had lifted the weight off his shoulders, and for the first time, the niggling thoughts at the back of his mind hadn’t cruelly insisted he’d given said weight to Skye. It was just…gone. Poof. Vanished. Going forward, he wanted to breathe some of the fun back into their relationship, starting tonight. “This is a nice surprise. What are you—”
“Oz isn’t moving,” Skye sobbed into the phone. “H-he isn’t moving!”