by Chloe Hawk
“No one? It sounded like someone.”
“It’s taken care of.”
“Wait, what?” I shook my head. “What’s taken care of?”
The elevator dinged as we hit his floor, and he stepped off and began making his way toward his apartment, his strides long and purposeful.
“Cole!” I yelled, struggling to keep up with him. “Stop. You need to tell me what the hell is going on.”
“Avery, please,” he said as I followed him into the apartment. “It doesn’t concern you.” His voice was another warning, yet again making it clear that I shouldn’t push him.
I stared at him for a long moment as he walked to the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of sparkling water, uncapped it, and took a long drink. He loosened his tie and then pulled his wallet and keys out of his pocket, throwing them onto the kitchen counter. He picked up his phone and began typing out a text message to someone before turning his back to me.
“Whatever,” I said, livid. “I’m going to bed.”
I stalked down the hall and into the bathroom, where I took off my dress and got into the shower. Anger burned bright inside of me, and I grabbed the shampoo and conditioner and lathered up my hair, trying to be careful of my wrist. It was starting to feel sore again -- I was going to need to put my brace back on when I got out of the shower.
Nice of Cole to come and check on me, to make sure I was okay. He obviously cared about nothing but himself.
I dried off and dressed in one of the pajama sets that Kalia had brought for me. It was a soft pink strappy tank top and a pair of matching shorts. It felt like an extravagant waste of money – the pieces were well made and soft against my skin. They were obviously expensive. I’d never spent money on pajamas before. Why would I when I could just wear a long t-shirt and call it a day?
I crawled into bed and turned off the light, but I couldn’t sleep. My mind was racing, thoughts of Jeffrey and Cole and Gordon and the mysterious man who’d shown up here tonight swirling through my head. Who was that man? And why wouldn’t Cole tell me about him?
Obviously I knew Cole had a life here, in New York, filled with powerful people and important events and meetings and things I knew nothing about. But why was he being so secretive? Why was a man trying to gain access to his apartment?
Cole’s not a good guy, Avery. No matter what you think.
That’s what Jeffrey had said. But Jeffrey wasn’t a good guy himself, so how was I supposed to believe anything he said? I pulled the expensive sheets tighter around my body, trying to find a way to get comfortable.
I was no stranger to insomnia. Starting when I was about thirteen, I’d had a hard time sleeping. To sleep was to give up control, to let yourself be vulnerable, with no protection or security. To sleep meant to let your guard down, and if there was one thing I’d learned, it was to never let your guard down, even for a second. Because the moment you did, there was always someone there, ready to strike.
And I was nobody’s prey.
My wrist was starting to throb, and I grabbed my brace from the bathroom and tried to get it on. But it was too hard to do by myself. Every time I’d try to fasten it together, one side would fall off, and my wrist hurt too much to be able to hold the sides tight enough.
I opened the medicine cabinet over the sink and looked for ibuprofen, but there was none. In fact, the shelves were empty. I stood there for a moment, staring at the emptiness, so different from the medicine cabinet at home, which was always filled with a mess of pill bottles and prescriptions, so many of them that they needed to be stacked on top of one another.
I remembered there was a guest bathroom just off the hallway, so I headed out into the apartment in search of pain relief.
The sound of the TV came, muted and soft, from the living room.
Cole must have been watching something.
The guest bathroom door was open, but I hesitated, not feeling completely okay about going inside and rummaging through Cole’s stuff. It was one thing to do it in the bathroom off my room – he’d given me that space.
I thought about going back to bed, but the ache in my wrist was starting to intensify, and I knew enough about pain to know that if you didn’t get on top of it, it could eventually become unmanageable.
So I took a deep breath and headed for the living room.
Cole was sitting on the couch in just a pair of sweatpants and no shirt, the flat screen TV over the fireplace tuned to SportsCenter. His dark hair flopped over his forehead, his eyes bright and focused on the highlights of some football game.
My heart squeezed in my chest.
He looked so different than he had just a few hours ago, all dressed up in his expensive suit, ordering me around some fancy party that people expected him to be at. Now he was just Cole, lounging around the house watching SportsCenter, the way he used to do all the time when we were growing up.
He’d come home from whatever party or girl’s house he’d been at, grab a bag of chips or a sandwich and settle onto our couch and flip on ESPN. I’d grab whatever book I was in the middle of and sit down next to him, reading my book while he watched sports highlights.
We’d sit there for hours, him watching TV, me lost in my book. We didn’t talk, except for the occasional time when he’d point out some sports play I wouldn’t completely understand or I’d tried to tell him some plot twist in my book that he wouldn’t care about.
We’d pass snacks back and forth and I’d refill our sodas when they got low. It was comforting, just having him there, being out of my room and having him close to me. I always felt safer when he was around.
The scene in front of me now might have been taking place in a New York City penthouse instead of our tiny, falling apart house back in Jersey, but it was so familiar to me. All I wanted to do was curl up next to him on the couch with a good book.
“Cole?” I asked.
But the volume on the TV was too high, and he didn’t hear me at first.
“Cole?” I asked again, a little louder this time. Even though the scene was familiar, now that we were on his turf, it felt like I was intruding on him in some way, like I was interrupting him and had no right to be there.
He turned to look at me, and he was so beautiful I caught my breath. I’d been annoyed at him earlier, when he’d been Business Cole, but now he was just here, my stepbrother, the person who used to make me feel safer than anyone in the world.
Until he’d left and shattered my heart into pieces.
“Um, is there any ibuprofen?” I asked.
“What’s wrong?” He shut the TV off and stood up.
I was suddenly aware I was in just a pajama top and shorts, the thin material clinging to my body. I wasn’t even wearing a bra, and I saw his eyes lingering on my breasts.
“My wrist hurts.”
“Let me see.” He walked over and took my wrist in his hand gently, running his fingers over my skin. His touch sent fire roaring through my body, and I felt flush.
“It doesn’t look swollen,” he said. “Where’s your brace?”
“I couldn’t get it on. I think it’s okay. I mean, I don’t think it’s getting worse or anything, it just hurts.”
“Stay here.”
He disappeared into the guest bathroom, then returned with a bottle of ibuprofen. He poured me a glass of water from the pitcher that was in the fridge and watched to make sure I swallowed the pills.
“Drink the rest of the water,” he said.
“I’m not thirsty.”
“You need to stay hydrated, Avery. For your wrist.”
I rolled my eyes and finished the water. “Happy?”
“Yes.” He took my empty glass and set it in the dishwasher.
I admired the way his body moved, the smooth planes of his chest, the broadness of his shoulders. I shivered a little.
“You’re cold,” he said. “You need to get back in bed.”
“I’m not tired.”
“Too bad. We have to be at th
e office tomorrow at eight. You don’t want to be tired for your first day, do you?”
I shook my head. I wanted to ask him why he was allowed to be awake, why he got to stay up late watching TV when he had to work in the morning, too. But it didn’t work that way. I was starting to learn that Cole made – or at least tried to make – the rules for me, but I didn’t make the rules for him.
“Come on,” he said. “I’ll help you with your brace.”
I followed him back to my room, through the door and into the bathroom where he grabbed my brace and held it out to me. I held out my arm and he clicked it on. The support instantly made my wrist feel better.
“Thank you,” I said.
“You’re welcome.”
He stood there staring at me, his eyes boring into mine, an electricity in the air, crackling so intensely that it was undeniable.
But a second later, he looked away. “Time for bed.”
We walked back into my room, and he waited until I was under the covers before turning off the light.
“Good night, Avery.”
“Good night, Cole.”
I heard the click of the light switch and the sound of his footsteps disappearing down the hall. I held my breath, hoping he would come back, yearning to feel his arms around me the way they’d been last night.
After a few moments, I’d given up hope.
And then the door to my room opened and he slipped into bed next to me, so close I could feel the warmth of his body.
He didn’t say anything, just lay there, looking up at the ceiling. I turned over and stared at his profile, the strong line of his jaw, the faint stubble on his chin, the curve of his lashes.
Finally, he turned and looked at me.
“Hi,” he breathed.
“Hi.”
He reached out and pushed a strand of hair off my face, then moved closer so that his lips were just inches from mine.
“Shit,” he said softly, shaking his head. “I can’t stay away from you.”
I didn’t say anything, afraid that if I said the wrong thing, I’d remind him of what we were doing, remind him that we’d said we couldn’t do this anymore, and he’d get up and leave. And I so desperately wanted him to stay.
I hated him and loved him all at the same time. I wanted him to hold me and had the urge to push him away. It was confusing and thrilling and it made no sense and perfect sense.
His hand cupped my chin. “Do you know how crazy you drive me, walking around in outfits like that?”
“I didn’t pick it out.”
“You are so fucking sexy.”
The pad of his thumb slid over my lower lip, and then slowly, his lips came toward mine. My breath hitched, catching in my chest, my pulse pounding and my heart speeding up.
I wanted him to kiss me more than I’d wanted anything in my life.
“Avery,” he whispered. “God, what are you doing to me?”
He lowered his head toward mine and kissed me gently on the lips. His lips were warm and soft, and when he pulled away, I opened my eyes. The two of us stared at each other in the dark for a moment.
It was the first time he’d kissed me on the lips, and while the other stuff we’d done had been sexual and exciting and had gotten me so horny and turned on I could hardly take it, this was more serious, more romantic, more intimate.
Cole shook his head slightly and then turned away from me, like he was going to leave. Disappointment flooded my body, but a second later, he turned back around, took my face in his hands and kissed me again.
This time, his tongue parted my lips and moved against mine, making it clear who was in control. He kissed me and kissed me and kissed me, harder and deeper, pulling me close until I was pushed up tight against his body. I could feel his cock, hard through his pants, and I tried to keep myself from grinding into him, tried to keep him from knowing how badly I wanted him.
His hands slid up under the back of my tank top, causing a shiver to slide up my back.
“You are so beautiful,” he said. “Do you know how fucking beautiful you are?”
I shook my head no.
“Let me show you,” he rasped, and then his mouth was back on mine, his stubble rubbing against my cheeks and chin as our mouths fell into a sensuous rhythm. It was the best kiss I’d ever had in my life. He knew what he was doing, knew just where to move his tongue, knew just how to hold me close. He tasted like peppermint and he smelled like soap and expensive cologne, and it was a heady combination that made me dizzy. My pussy was wet, and I was afraid if he touched me I was going to come already.
He pulled back and rolled his body on top of mine, and I let my hands wander over his bare chest, lingering on his shoulders, his pecs, his biceps. He was so built that he made me feel tiny, and his hands grabbed my tits as he kissed me, pulling my tank top off and tossing it onto the floor. Then he grabbed my pajama pants and pulled them off, too, until I was lying there in just my panties.
“Fuck,” he said as he gazed down at my nipples. He took one into his mouth, sucking it gently, sending heat through my body. His eyes locked on mine as he sucked, adding to the intensity of having my nipple in my stepbrother’s mouth.
He stopped for minute, just gazing at me as he pushed himself between my legs, forcing my legs apart so that his dick was right against my pussy. He started grinding against me, and I moaned and bit my lip, arching my back. Even though we were separated by his sweatpants my panties, he was getting me dripping wet.
“Does that feel good, baby?” he whispered. “Does my dick feel good against your pussy?”
“Yes,” I moaned. “Fuck, Cole, that feels so good.”
“You want me inside of you, don’t you, baby?”
“Yes,” I moaned, imagining the tip of his hard cock sliding into me, imagining him on top of me, pumping me harder and faster, his balls slapping against my ass until we both came.
But instead of doing that, he stopped.
“Please,” I breathed. “Cole, please don’t stop.”
“Don’t stop what?” he demanded, his eyes bright. He pulled off his pants and boxers, tossing them onto the floor, and I caught a glimpse of his cock, thick and rock hard.
“Don’t stop grinding your cock against me.”
He grinned at me devilishly, then grabbed my hand, like he’d done last night, and slid it over his stomach. I could feel every muscle of his six-pack, every distinct ridge of his gorgeous body as he guided my hand down until I was touching his shaft.
I began to stroke him up and down while he kissed me. After a few minutes, he began kissing down my neck, over my stomach until he was between my legs.
He grabbed the sides of my panties, his thumbs sliding under the waistband before sliding them off and over my ankles. He pushed my legs back apart and then his mouth was on me, nibbling on my thighs, his breath warm against my skin.
I cried out as he reached my center and his tongue swirled over my clit.
“You taste so good, baby,” Cole said, his finger sliding inside of me for a second before his mouth kissed me slow and deep right on my pussy.
I’d never felt such pleasure – like the way he’d kissed me on the mouth, he knew what he was doing down there, his fingers and mouth moving in a hypnotic rhythm. His mouth was warm, his tongue sliding inside of me, his thumb rubbing my clit while his fingers fucked me.
I could feel my orgasm building, becoming more powerful until it threatened to overtake me like a tidal wave.
“Cole,” I breathed. “Cole, I’m going to come.”
“No.” He stopped, his hands grabbing my hips and holding me still. “Not yet.”
He slid up my body until his cock was right at my entrance, poised against my hole. He stroked the head of his dick up and down my slit, and I arched my back as he grabbed onto my nipple with his mouth, sucking as ground his hips against mine.
“Shit, Avery, you’re so fucking wet,” he breathed as he moved against me. “I want to fuck you, baby.”
My begging seemed to excite him, and he began to move up and down faster and faster against my pussy. Every time I felt like he was going to slide inside of me, he’d slow down. His body felt perfect against mine, our eyes locked on each other as he moved against me.
Even without him going inside of me, I could feel my orgasm building again, the warmth starting in my pussy and moving through my body, gaining momentum.
I moaned and Cole looked down at me and grinned.
“You want to come on me, baby?”
“Yes,” I whispered, not trusting myself to say anything more. I was afraid if I said the wrong thing he would stop, and take this insane pleasure away from me -- and if he did, I was afraid I would go insane.
“Do it. Come for me, Avery. Come all over my dick.”
Him saying the words was enough to push me over the edge and I came on him, my pussy convulsing on his cock.
“Fuck,” he swore as I came, pushing my legs apart and moving his dick up and down faster and harder.
He grabbed my hand and placed it on his cock, guiding it as I jerked him up and down.
“Fuck, Avery,” he said. “You are so fucking sexy.” He came a second later, shooting his load as I stroked him.
When he was done, he collapsed on top of me, the weight of his body pressing into mine. My heart was beating fast, and I could feel his heart racing inside his chest, too.
He kissed me softly on the forehead and then rolled off of me, over to the other side of the bed. As soon as he was gone, I wanted his body back on top of me.
We lay there in the dark for a long moment, not saying anything.
After a moment, I got up and headed for the bathroom.
My face was flushed and red, and I splashed water on it, trying to calm myself down. My eyes were shiny and bright with excitement.
I couldn’t believe I’d just done that with my stepbrother, let him touch me and lick me and push his tongue up inside of me. It made me horny all over again, just thinking about it.
But why hadn’t we had sex? I’d wanted to, and I’d made that pretty clear. So what had stopped him? Cole was the definition of a womanizer, having a different girl in his bed almost every night. So why hadn’t he wanted to sleep with me?