by Ella Steele
SECRETS
Vol. 2
Ella Steele
www.SexyAwesomeBooks.com
Laree Bailey Press
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
SECRETS VOL. 2
Copyright © 2012 by Ella Steele
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form.
Laree Bailey Press
First Edition: Aug 2012
SECRETS
Vol. 2
CHAPTER 1
“I wasn’t really sleeping well either,” Cole says sympathetically. He has no idea what he’s doing to me. I’m breathless, embarrassed by things he can’t possibly know, but it still makes my cheeks burn.
My emotions are jumbled. I look up at him. He’s too old. I’m too young. He’s from money. I hate money. I glance at Cole again. Damn. I still want him. That stirring, whatever put the idea into my head didn’t leave when I woke up, and having him that close is like setting a magnet on a compass. My emotions are spinning like a top.
It’s after 2:00am, but I feel wound tight. Pushing off, the couch I tell him, “I’m getting a drink. You want one?”
Smiling, he teases, “Sure, but are you legal?”
My cotton shorts cling to my hips as I walk away. I laugh over my shoulder, “Legal to do things you couldn’t imagine, old man.” I have no idea why I said that, but it makes me feel better. Cole remains in the den, but by the time I come back with drinks, he’s sitting on my bed, also known as the couch.
He was sleeping on the floor next to me. The den doors were closed and my parents left us alone to make babies all night.
I hand him a glass with whiskey at the bottom and a can of Coke. I have a glass of wine. When he takes his glass, I clink them together, “Cheers.”
He nods, pours the Coke into his glass, and puts his feet up on the table and looks at me, “What are we drinking to?”
I say the first thing that flies into my head, “To your appreciation for women, but not women’s clothes. Unless you count Le Femme’s panties. You don’t wear those, do you?” I laugh and sip my wine.
“Only on my head. That one with the apple makes a really cool mask,” he laughs and I spew a sip of wine, trying to stifle a laugh. “That’s second grade underpants humor, Lamore. Seriously, underpants jokes make you laugh?”
I’m covering my mouth so I don’t spew again and try to swallow the wine left in my mouth. Nearly choking, I laugh, “Combined with the image of you dressed as a super hero, sporting tights, with a panty-mask on your face, yes.”
Cole grins at me.
I rest my head against the back of the couch. Cole’s sits next to me, his bare chest is distracting. He’s wearing his jeans, and is barefoot. I watch his chest rise and fall out of the corner of my eye. Damn dream. I shrug like he doesn’t affect me. I don’t want him to.
Changing topics I say, “I’d like to see your paintings, the ones you told me about the other day.”
“Oh,” and then he’s quite. His eyes look into his glass like it has answers that he doesn’t.
“I take it that you don’t show that stuff to people too often?”
He shakes his head, “No, not really.” He’s silent for a moment, then says, “If you really want to see them, I’ll show you. I owe it to you for tonight.”
“Psh,” I say swatting him in the shoulder, “You owe me nothing. It’s not like I would have left you sitting there.” I stare at the ceiling, not thinking. Well, not wanting to.
“You’re a rare breed, Lamore.” He finishes his drink, sets it down, and threads his fingers behind his head.
“You have no idea,” I glance at my wine glass and set it down. I rub my eyes with my hands.
He watches me before saying, “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“That’s because most of the time it is.” I look at him.
Cole’s sitting next to me, stretched out, completely at ease. At least he appears that way. Everything about him says he’s comfortable in his own skin, that he likes who he is and what he’s become. He glances at me out of the corner of his eye, “How? How is that bad?”
“It just is. I’m a moron magnet. Being me attracts every loser in a twenty mile radius. The guy seems nice at first, but each and every one of them is totally messed up. Or maybe it’s me. Maybe I’m the one who’s messed up.” These were thoughts that had been banging around in my brain. Without Emma to talk to, they stayed there. Cole rattled me and has made me feel ten times more alive in the past day than anyone else ever has.
Cole laughs initially, but when he realizes I was serious, he says, “Anna, you can’t be serious. It’s not you.”
I pull a pillow across my chest, “How would you know? You just met me. And it’s not like you know me that way. You can’t be sure it’s not me.” My voice softens as I speak.
“It’s not you,” he repeats. Tension lines his shoulders. It wasn’t there a moment ago, but it seems hard to miss now.
“Sorry,” I say. “I’m making you uncomfortable. I didn’t mean to—”
When he turns to face me, my breath catches in my throat. His eyes are so soft, so sincere, that I can’t look away. He takes the pillow that I crushed against my chest and I feel exposed.
He says certainly, “You’re not making me feel uncomfortable.” He places the pillow on the floor. When he turns back to me, he asks, “Do you know how I can tell that it’s not you?” I shake my head. My heart races faster. His eyes search my face like he can’t believe that I don’t see that I’m not the reason morons flock to my side. “You’re naturally inquisitive. You question everything, to the point of exasperation,” he smiles at me like it’s an endearing trait. “Anna, people who question things usually know themselves pretty well. They want to know why things work and they try to fix them when they don’t. If he was doing that—if he was trying to take care of you—you wouldn’t be asking me this right now, you’d be asking him.”
Blinking hard, I look away. I pull my knees into my chest, and wrap my hands around my ankles. “He’s tried to do what I want.” I realize where this conversation is going. I’m not sure if I want to talk about it with him. I barely know Cole, but after today, things have changed. The fact that he blindly trusts me wasn’t missed. And it’s so easy to talk to him.
“And?” Cole prompts.
“And he offered to do what I want, but it’s not the same. It’s like the difference between really wanting a cookie and just thinking it’s so-so.” I’m staring at my feet. When he doesn’t’ answer, I look up at him. He’s smiling at me with a strange expression on his face. “What?”
“Cookies? Really? We’re using a cookie metaphor in sex conversation?” he smiles at me, and nudges my shoulder with his. “Come on. Talk to me. You know my darkest secret. You can tell me yours.”
I smile softly, “How’d you know it was about sex?” I cringe as I say it, my cheeks growing hotter.
“Why else would you be beat-red right now? And I’m onto your diversions. Cookies, Skittles—do you always chose food when you’re trying to skip over something important?” I smile shyly at him, but don’t respond. I can’t say it. I want to, the question is sitting on my tongue, but I can’t. “Come on Lamore,” he urges, bumping my shoulder again
“Fine,” I say nervously. “I’ll just ask, but don’t laugh at me. This is a girl question, and you’re not a girl.”
“Obviously,” he grins.
I bump his shoulder back and then say, “Do you think a re
lationship has a chance if one partner is too bland for the other?”
“Bland?” he asks like he doesn’t know what I mean.
I nod, “Yeah, like he likes things kinky and I like things vanilla.” I have no idea why I switched our roles. Edward was vanilla, and I wanted to be the kink goddess. I didn’t realize I was wringing my fingers until Cole patted my hand.
“Stop,” he releases my fingers when I look up at him. “It doesn’t mean it can’t work out, but there will also be a rift there for him. You won’t feel it, but he’s not going to feel satisfied as frequently. That’s an issue in any relationship. And it’s not something that’s your fault. It’s just the way it is.”
“You don’t think he’d change? That he could be more… vanilla?” There is desperation in my voice, like I know the answer before he even says it. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I already know that things are destined to fail with Edward. I just don’t want to write off a good man for something that seems so selfish, especially if he is satisfied. At the same time, dealing with bland sex for a lifetime is something that doesn’t hold much appeal.
Cole looks aside, and shakes his head. “Sorry, but no. People like that tend to be passionate and they want to show it. It surfaces in other areas of their lives, too. A person who speaks, acts, and breathes passionately isn’t going to become a subdued lover. It’s not who they are... “
Staring at his eyes, I speak without thinking, “A person like you.”
Cole is passionate. He knows what I’m talking about. While he was telling me what he thought, I realize that he’s talking about himself. My face flushes when I realize what I’ve said. His eyes fixate on my lips until I look away.
He grins at me, “A person exactly like me. Listen, Anna—” he reaches for my hand. When he brushes his fingers against it, I look up at him. He doesn’t touch me for long. It’s little things here and there. I look up at him, and he says, “I think I’m just telling you what you already know.”
His voice is soft, his eyes don’t quite meet mine. Cole rubs his thumb against the back of my hand. I can’t stop staring at it. My heart is pounding. I can’t control how he makes me feel.
“Don’t change for anyone. In the end, it’s not worth it,” he says and then grins again. “Besides, depriving the world of Anna Lamore would be a sin. I’d have to seriously punch this dude in the face.”
His words are so unexpected that I snort-laugh. It is one big honk. My hands fly to my mouth to hide it, but my face turns beet red anyway. Cole laughs, his eyes bright blue and shining. The warmth in his voice fills me up inside. The rich tones flow so easily, so confidently. I want what he has. I want to feel comfortable in my own skin.
When our eyes lock, I wonder what he’s thinking, what he sees when he looks at me. Previously, he’s said I was a child, but his gaze now says otherwise. The intensity of his eyes makes me hot. A current runs through the center of my body. I can’t look away. Cole leans closer until I feel his breath wash across my lips. Every inch of me is vibrating. I want him to touch me, to feel his palm against my face and taste his beautiful lips.
My gaze drifts to his mouth. He blinks slowly, once, and I know he’s going to pull away. Before he has the chance, I pretend that nothing happened, that I don’t feel the attraction. I lean into his chest before he can say anything and rest my head against his shoulder.
Surprise fills me when Cole’s arms wrap around me, pulling me tight. We stay like that for a long time, each of us too afraid to move. This is the first time I know how much of an effect Cole Stevens has on me. It shakes me to my core. The dream blindsided me, and there’s no stopping it.
My body has reacted to him from day one, but I refused to acknowledge it.
After a few moments, we pull apart. Cole lowers himself to the floor and I close my eyes and lean back on my pillow. I twist the blankets between my fingers. My heart thumps in my chest like I’m startled. I am startled. I like him. I have a thing for Cole. Every muscle inside me cords tightly, my while fingers tug at the afghan in near panic.
CHAPTER 2
The next morning, I wake up ready to pretend nothing happened, not that anything really did happen. It just feels like it did. Cole isn’t next to me on the floor when I sit up. His blankets are folded on a chair. He let me sleep and is enduring my parents alone. Quickly, I pull on my jeans and tank top, and run a brush through my hair. As I approach the stairs, I hear my mother’s voice. She’s laughing, along with my dad and Cole.
When I get to the top of the stairs, I hesitate. Cole is sitting with my parents and it appears that they are having a somewhat normal conversation. I stand still, listening.
Ma says to Cole, “So what about this one? Was this airbrushed?” She pushes the paper toward him. Cole reaches out and slides it closer while sipping his coffee.
He nods, “Yes, the models in the ads are Photoshopped—that’s like airbrushing, but it’s more than that. All of these are manipulated to some extent. Real thighs don’t look like that.”
Ma tugs the paper away and looks at it closer, “How do you know? I can’t see it. And this girl is so skinny. Her thighs could really look like that.”
Cole shakes his head and pulls the paper back. “It’s my job. We do this all day long. So does Anna, and she’s very good at it. But, sometimes on the cheaper product lines you can see artifacts, like—” he’s turning pages. After flipping three times, he stops and smooths the newsprint, “here. See this?”
Ma tugs the paper back, and her jaw drops. She thrusts the pages at Dad, who is smiling like he already knows all this stuff. “Frankie, did you see this? Did you know they could do that?”
“Yeah. They’ve been doing that for years. I told you real women don’t look like that. You’re beautiful and always have been. Those twigs got nothing on you, baby,” he takes her hand while he’s talking. He’s always adored her. They gaze at each other.
Cole smiles and looks up, seeing me in the doorway. He stands and crosses the room, “Good morning, lover. Can I get you some breakfast?” He kisses me on the cheek and I nearly fall over. A voice inside my head giggles hysterically and instructs me to never wash my face again. I stare at Cole as he takes a plate and fills it with pancakes and sausages. He hands it to me and grabs me a cup of coffee. “Come on. Sit. Eat. We have time.”
I make my way to the table. We sit together and eat. The conversation doesn’t drift to loins or babies. A smile spreads across my face and I can’t hide it.
________
It’s Saturday. By the time I get back to the apartment, Emma is gone. I get in the shower, and crank up the hot water. I stand there letting it wash over me until my skin is numb. There are so many things that I want to do, but I don’t know where to start. Cole left my parent’s house right after breakfast. His driver picked him up in a shiny black car. He offered to take me home, but I didn’t want to leave my bike behind. I thanked him and told him I’d be in later.
This week has been so strange. If someone told me that the man who shattered my dreams last weekend would be spending the night with me and starring in my naughty fantasies, I wouldn’t have believed them.
Before I leave for work, I call Edward and tell him that I want to meet up with him later. Breaking up is going to suck, but it’s inevitable. There’s no future for us. This is more humane, even if he does love me. I just hope that he’ll understand. I can’t change for him, and he shouldn’t have to change for me. Somewhere out there, there’s a girl that’s perfect for him, and I know that it’s not me.
I tug on a pair of shorts and a cami. I’m not really dressed for work, but there are no clients today and it’s insanely hot. I leave my motorcycle in the garage across the street and make my way to Le Femme via the subway, then trek the last stretch on foot. By the time I arrive, my cute outfit is soaked in sweat and my hair is deflated. I look horrible. After I push through the door, I walk to the mirror, trying to salvage my appearance, at least a little bit. Snatching a tissue, I blo
t the sweat off my face. Most of my make-up floated away a few blocks back. Sun-freckles and rosy cheeks peek back at me. The sheen on my face refuses to be tamed. I stand there for a second and look at the tissue, wondering if I should even bother.
“Hey,” Cole walks up behind me. His voice sounds soft at first, almost timid. “You’re here. And… um, wow… You look…”
I huff, “Like a mess. Tell me there are no clients today. Please. I can’t fix this.” I gesture to my face which is glowing again in an I-just-worked-out kind of way.
Cole leans back on Miss Todd’s empty desk. The muscles in his arms bulge. His shirt clings to his body and I realize that I haven’t seen him dressed like this before. He looks like he’s headed for the beach, wearing shorts and a tee shirt. The office is a warmer than usual. There’s a sheen of sweat on his skin. He grins, “There are no clients. We’re editing all day. And you look great, so don’t worry about it.”
I laugh, “Yeah. Nice try, but I saw the way I rendered you silent a few seconds ago.” The way he looks at me makes my stomach flip. It’s like seeing me in a disheveled mess makes him like me more. I stop fussing in front of the mirror and toss the tissue.
He slides off the desks and walks toward me, “The air conditioner is having issues. We’ll be lucky if it doesn’t totally die. The repair guys will be here later to work on it. Come on. Let’s get to editing.” He tilts his head and turns. Cole shoves his hands in his pockets and I follow him back to the studio.
A few hours later, sweat is pouring off of me. The air conditioner totally died and the repair guy hasn’t shown up. Cole calls them and is assured that we are next on the list, so we sit and wait. I stop editing and lay down on the cool concrete floor. Sweat was dripping into my computer keyboard; it’s so insanely hot up here. The cement feels nice on the back of my neck and legs. I sigh and fold my hands behind my head.